#abba taught you all better than this
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whenever i see someone spell mamma mia with only one m, i lose a braincell
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hi tumblr
ive been rewatching gravity falls and i thought it would be funny to recap certain events in the show with no context whatsoever
-dipper sings dancing queen by abba with a mutant bear he was about to kill.
-stan, a man in his 60-70s, lectures a child on how to formulate an evil plan. (the child is 4 years old, stans rival, and having a mental breakdown because stan's granchildren are in his armpits)
-dipper gets literally mauled by a wolf and decides its better than going to his sister's sleepover.
-larry king gets decapitated.
-kids break in to a convenience store where one of them gets high out of her mind on cheap illegal ice cream (normal tuesday for these kids)
-kids find out about the 8th and a half president: who made the first all-baby supreme court.
-grunkle stan wins the football bowl. he taught the footballers and their gloating friends a lesson. he wins a football winning trophy, and a beautiful woman aptly named beautiful woman. but he couldnt have done it, any of it, without his sidekick footbot.
-soos is canonically afraid of british dog men. hes so real for that honestly.
-ARE YOU SICK OF PILES OF OWLS CONSTANTLY BLOCKING YOUR DRIVEWAY?! WELL THEN YOU GOTTA GET OWL TROWEL
-youre laughing. people are sick of piles of owls constantly blocking their driveway and youre laughing.
-the only on screen character death, with the exception of bill, is that of big henry, who sacrificed himself by taking a golf ball to the other side of the mine. the protagonists never learn this.
-soos turns into clay and starts breaking the laws of the universe. so stan kills him with a radio.
-two kids travel back in time and crush toby's musical theatre dreams.
-"dudebro" became a mainstay in my regular vocabulary for two years because of this show.
-grunkle stan teaches a bear how to drive. he almost gets arrested in this episode. not for teaching a bear how to drive but because of tax fraud.
-soos' stomach emits whale noises.
-mcgucket has apparently exploded an entire downtown city because his pal earnie didn't come to his retirement party. justified tbh
-stan starts booing some little kids because they told their grandpa they loved him
-let me just set the scene for a sec here: its 2016. its a beautiful summer day, where the hazy nostalgia of a music festival fills your eyes, your ears, and the uneasy excitement of love in the hot summer air makes every second better than the last. suddenly, a gigantic flaming head of a man saying "i eat kids" descends upon you from the sky. the graphic horror is something youll never forget. the grotesque image of people in terror at this gargantuan mass of flaming flesh. it burns into your eyes. is this it for you? you see a child, clueless to the situation, ask his mother his final words: is the giant flaming head going to eat us? she says yes. as it consumes you, you cry a single tear. im done being dramatic but this did happen
-beautiful men eat out of stan's trash (this apparently happens consistently)
-youre laughing. darn beautiful men are always eating out of his trash and youre laughing.
-stan strips on public television.
-gourney gets eaten by a halloween monster. he is only freed when soos eats the monnster.
-the gravity falls universe has a public television program where babies fight each other.
-grunkle stan tries to burn aforementioned four year old nemesis alive.
-ok not really but he tries to blind him at least which is still pretty bad.
-grunkle stan tries to steal an animatronic badger
-mabeland has a government entirely run by mabel. this makes mabel an autocratic fascist. sorry i dont make the rules.
-soos' mom turns into a chair.
-theres a character named toot toot mc bumblesnazzle, who plays a banjo. go ahead and guess his narrative importance. if you guess cult leader, correct!
-neil degrasse tyson plays a pig.
and last but certainly not least, stan has illegally shipped pugs across the us border.
#i spent hours on this#gravity falls#pines family#grunkle stan#dipper pines#gravity falls dipper#mabel pines#gravity falls mabel#stan pines#alex hirsch#long post
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change your mind
Pairing: Eddie Munson/Reader
Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)
Word Count: 6,575
Read on AO3
Summary:
Five times Eddie Munson asks you to marry him, and the one time you say yes.
Author’s Note: This is meant to be read after “nothing else matters”, but can be read as a stand alone.
Additional tags: rockstar Eddie Munson, high school sweethearts, marriage proposal, loss of virginity, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, dirty talk, pet names, semi-public sex, idiots in love
— 1 —
It’s the summer of 1984 when you first really meet Eddie Munson.
Sure, you’ve seen him around school. You’ve heard his cafeteria monologues. You’ve even seen him and his band perform at the talent show. But he’s always been just beyond your orbit. The crowd you hang out with the most in school, while not the most popular kids by any means, didn’t typically leave much opportunity for getting to know the leather wearing metal head.
You’re in your backyard, reading a book under the porch light. After a long, hot day at the pool working as a lifeguard, the mild chill of the summer evening is a welcome reprieve. When you look out over the yard, dots of light come and go as fireflies flit about the grass.
It’s perfect.
That is, until you hear a scrambling noise near your fence line, followed by a loud thump and a pained groan. Startled, you jump from your seat and tug open the screen door to the house, reaching in and grabbing the shotgun your dad keeps there.
Gun held in both hands, just like your dad taught you, you tiptoe out into the yard to investigate.
You spot the source of the noise quickly. A lump in the grass, barely illuminated by the light of the moon and your distant porch lights. The lump shifts, rolling over and you catch a glimpse of curly brown hair and pale skin.
When he finally opens his eyes and notices you standing there, gun aimed at him, he scrambles to his knees and holds his hands up, brown eyes wide in panic as he says, “Hey, hey, hey, let’s put the gun down, yeah?”
You roll your eyes, flicking the safety back on and setting it down. “Care to explain why you’re in my yard, then? You gave me a heart attack, Eddie!”
“Hopper caught me spray painting the old mill down the road. Had to lose him somehow.” He stands, brushing the grass off of his black jeans. He eyes you curiously. “You know my name?”
“We go to school together. Of course I know your name.”
“Ah, my infamy precedes me.”
“It’s not infamy, it's your loud mouth in the cafeteria yelling about how ABBA is an affront to music.” You cross your arms over your chest. “Dancing Queen is a good song.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, princess, did I personally offend you?” He asks, voice teasing. “Bet if you listened to the lyrical mastermind that is Ozzy, you would forget all about ABBA.”
“I think Paranoid was better than Master of Reality, ” you reply.
“Marry me,” he says, making you laugh. His eyes crinkle in the corners as he smiles at you, and not for the first time, you think, Huh, Eddie Munson is kinda cute.
“Not a chance, Munson.”
— 2 —
In the fall of 1984, you began your junior year. It had started out just the same as any other year - new classes, same faces. But one face in the crowd caught your eye more regularly.
And you caught his right back.
Sometimes, when you were spacing out during lunch listening to your friends talk about their weekend plans, your eyes would seek out that head of messy curls. And sometimes, you would find that he was already staring back at you.
And that distraction is what leads to him standing from his table without looking and slamming straight into Jason Carver, his lunch tray spilling the Wednesday Spaghetti special all over his precious letterman jacket.
“Watch where you’re going, freak,” Jason shouts, shoving Eddie by the shoulders.
Eddie, being the little shit that he is, just smiles. “Oh, my sincerest apologies, King Jason,” he replies with a sarcastic little bow. “Baking soda should take care of those stains.”
You can practically see the steam coming out of Jason’s ears. Eddie turns to leave, eyes finding yours again, but Jason reaches out and grabs his shoulder, turning him back to face him and throwing a fist right into his jaw.
You’re out of your seat before you can even think about it. Kids crowd around the two boys, chanting their encouragement to fight. Eddie stands back up, ducking another punch from Jason.
You shove your way through the crowd, planting yourself in front of Eddie just as Jason throws another swing that narrowly misses you. “Cut it out,” you shout above the noise.
“Move,” Jason demands, an angry gaze still fixed on Eddie. “What, you need a girl to defend you, Munson?”
And that comment pisses you off. Your dad didn’t spend hours every weekend when you were a young girl teaching you how to throw a punch for no reason. Your arm winds back, fingers curled tight in a fist that you let fly right into his nose. He stumbles back, hands flying to his face and coming away covered in blood.
“Holy shit,” Eddie says behind you. “That was awesome.”
Principal Higgins charges through the crowd. He takes in Jason’s bloody face, and turns to you and Eddie. “Detention. This afternoon.”
You open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off with a hand and a sigh of your name. “I will deal with you two later. Mr. Carver needs to see the nurse.” With that, he leads the school golden boy out of the cafeteria by the arm.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Eddie says. You turn to face him as the students disperse back to their seats. You can feel their uncertain glances bouncing off your back.
“Yeah, well. Jason’s a dick,” you mutter. You don’t give him a chance to reply, heading back to your table to grab your backpack and head to class before the bell rings.
___
After an hour of staring at a chalkboard in silence, Mr. Clark, the hefty P.E. teacher with the shiny bald spot, finally dismisses you and Eddie from the classroom.
You’re out of your seat like a rocket and halfway down the hall before you hear Eddie’s voice call out behind you.
When you turn to face him, he’s grinning ear to ear. You can’t imagine why - you’d just spent an hour being tortured by silence. He holds a hand out, and you look down at the twisted piece of straw wrapper pinched between his fingers in confusion.
“Marry me?” Eddie asks, reminding you of the night that he’d fallen into your backyard and asked the same question.
With a laugh, you take the ring and slip it onto your ring finger. “Not a chance, Munson,” you say with a wink, turning on your heel to leave.
“I’ll change your mind!” He calls out after you.
— 3 —
It’s February in 1985 when Eddie Munson first asks you out.
He’s been leaving you notes in your locker every week for the last few months. Sometimes it's an actual note, his messy handwriting detailing some crazy story he’d come up with for his Dungeons and Dragons club, or asking you a series of questions that you’d reply to with a note of your own, slipped into his locker in between classes.
Other times, it's a drawing. While his handwriting leaves a lot to be desired, his artistry is impressive. One such drawing was a vase of sunflowers, which you had off-handedly mentioned as your favorite. You’d stuck that one to your locker door with a matching magnet the same day.
One day, however, you approach your locker at the end of the day to find a crumpled brown paper bag stuck to the metal door with duct tape. Opening it, you find a cassette tape in a plastic cover, the track list scribbled in familiar handwriting.
It takes you all of three seconds to realize most of the songs are off of Black Sabbath’s Paranoid album, which makes you smile like a fool.
Later, in the privacy of your room, you play the songs on a low enough volume to not wake your dad, sitting near your speaker to catch the lyrics. It’s a little after 11 p.m. when you hear a tap at your window.
You push the curtain aside and jump slightly in surprise when Eddie’s grinning face stares back from the other side of the glass. You lift the window open to whisper, “What are you doing here?”
“Come on, I got something to show you,” he says, his whole body moving with barely contained excitement. “But we gotta go, like, now.”
“Eddie, it’s almost midnight,” you say by way of protest.
“Exactly, come on, we don’t have a lot of time.” He leans through your open window, looking you head to toe. “Put on a sweater and get your shoes on.”
Confused, but intrigued, you do as he says. He helps you through the window before you slowly close it, careful not to make too much noise. You follow him to his van that he’s parked a little ways down from your house.
“Where are we going?” You ask, stepping quickly to keep up with his longer strides. He opens the passenger door for you, shutting it as you sit in the seat without responding. His van smells like weed and cigarette smoke, but not overwhelmingly. It’s almost comforting.
He turns the van on, pulling away from the curb and heading north, towards the dense woods surrounding Hawkins. He’s got the radio turned low, a Metallica sound filling the silence around you. His fingers tap to the beat on the steering wheel, but he doesn’t say anything.
You drive like that for a while, heading further out from Hawkins to where the town gives way to dense forest and the inky black sky lights up with more stars than you get to see back at home. Eddie pulls off to the side of the road, near a field that borders the roadway before it disappears into towering pine.
He hops out of the van and runs around the hood to open your door, holding a hand out to you. It’s so dark you can barely see anything as you drop down from the passenger seat, clinging to his hand. He brings you to the back and opens the van doors, revealing a pile of blankets that you hadn’t noticed during the drive.
He turns to you, a hand running through his hair as he says, “There’s a meteor shower tonight. It starts in-,” he checks his watch, “-thirty minutes. I thought, maybe, we could…watch it. I got us some Red Vines, too.”
You blink rapidly, your brain trying to catch up. “A meteor shower?”
“Yeah. Heard about it on the radio. This should be a pretty clear place to watch it,” he says. “You said your favorite book is The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy because you like the idea of traveling through space. I don’t have a starship, so the meteor shower is the compromise.”
“I can’t believe you remember I said that,” you tell him. You’d mentioned it off-handedly in one of your replies to his notes.
“I remember everything you tell me,” he replies easily, shrugging like it's no big deal.
“This is….so sweet, Eddie,” you tell him honestly. He lets out a breath, like he’d been nervous about how you would respond. You can’t imagine why.
Doesn’t he know you’ve been halfway in love with him since pointing a shotgun at him for interrupting your reading?
He grins, bright and happy before hopping up into the pile of blankets and situating himself. He pulls out the aforementioned bag of Red Vines and pats the space beside him. You clamber up into the spot, sitting cross legged with your knee touching his and sending sparks across your skin at the contact.
He holds a bright red rope out to you and you take it happily, munching on it as you stare up at the sky. A streak of lights moves in your periphery and you jump in excitement. “I think I saw one!”
Your eyes are glued to the sky as the intermittent streaks of meteors slash through the darkness, but Eddie watches you instead.
He pulls another Red Vine from the pack, tying it in a knot with a small loop at the end.
“Marry me?” He asks, holding the makeshift ring out to you.
“Not a chance, Munson,” you reply, making him laugh. You bite the candy from his fingers with a grin.
“I’ll change your mind,” he promises for the second time.
— 4 —
It’s the summer of 1986. You’ve graduated high school and Eddie finally has as well, by the skin of his teeth and maybe with a little help from you on his homework.
College wasn’t really in your cards financially, so you’re working at The Hideout as a bartender on the weekends and at a record store throughout the week. Eddie, on the other hand, has been focusing on making music for Corroded Coffin between shifts at the factory where his Uncle Wayne also works. You still live with your dad, but you don’t mind it. He gives you enough privacy and is often away on construction jobs around the state for long periods of time.
On one such occasion, blessed with an empty house, you ask Eddie to come stay with you.
You’ve been dating since he took you to watch the meteor shower. It’s your first relationship, your first boyfriend, your first everything, really. Eddie is sweet, attentive, caring, and hasn’t once pressured you into anything you’re not yet ready for.
But tonight, you’re ready. You are so, so ready.
The pizza has already been delivered. You’ve rented Back to the Future for the third time, which means neither of you would be missing out if you happened to be busy with…other activities. You’ve got a box of condoms stashed in the couch cushions, just in case.
There’s a knock at your door and you swipe your sweaty palms on the fabric of your dress, the cute red sundress that’s been known to make Eddie’s brain short circuit.
You pull the door open to Eddie’s smiling face. “Sorry I’m late, sweetheart. I got that wine you like. Don’t know how it’s going to pair with pizza.” He leans forward to kiss you, a soft peck to your lips in greeting that already lights up your nerves.
“Thanks,” you say, taking the bottle from him. You move aside to let him in, shutting the door behind you. He turns, slipping an arm around your waist and tugging you until you're pressed tightly to him.
“This dress,” he murmurs, running his nose along your neck, nipping at the juncture of your shoulder. “This dress drives me crazy.”
You hold back the whimper of need lodged in your throat as he peppers you with little kisses, fingers curling against your ribs. He pulls away before it gets too far, just as he always does, and you mourn the loss.
You follow him to the kitchen and set the wine next to the pizza box. “Do you want anything to drink?”
“Your dad got any beer?” He asks, taking a seat at the table and flipping the box open. “Oh, pineapple!”
You grab a beer from the fridge for him and a glass for the wine. As you’re walking past, Eddie grabs your hand and gives it a little tug, guiding you until you’re sitting on his lap.
“You okay?” He asks, one hand on your back and the other just above your knee, his calloused fingers lightly gripping the bare skin of your thigh.
“Huh?”
“I asked if you’re okay. You’re acting a little funny.” His brow furrows in concern as he searches your face. “Do you not want me to stay over anymore?”
“No! I mean, yes! Yes, I want you to stay.” You take a breath. “Do you want to eat the pizza in the living room? We can start the movie.”
He regards you for a moment longer before shrugging and saying, “Sure. Lead the way.”
He grabs the pizza box while you get plates. In the living room, you press play on the VCR before taking a seat beside Eddie, leaving a few inches between your bodies out of nervousness, hoping he doesn’t notice.
But he does.
He frowns at the space before glancing at you, while you resolutely stare into the pizza box like it holds all the answers in the universe.
Look, the fact of the matter is, Eddie is more experienced than you and the knowledge of that leaves you torn. On one hand, you’re glad to (hopefully) be going into this with someone who knows what he’s doing so that you’re not just fumbling in the dark.
On the other hand, you’re scared to death he’s going to think you’re some boring virgin. You don’t think he would. It would be wildly out of character for him to be cruel like that. But there’s still a tiny part of your stupid brain telling you otherwise.
And you know he’s into some heavy stuff. You’ve snooped through his room before, found the copies of Heavy Metal magazine that featured women bound, gagged, blindfolded. Bent over with red hand prints blooming on their asses. Knelt on the ground in front of some faceless man, doe eyed expressions tilted up in submission. Seeing all of it had made you squirm, skin going hot at the thought of Eddie doing any number of those things to you.
Until you remembered that you’ve never even had sex yet and can’t possibly live up to that sort of expectation. You stare blankly at the TV as you have your internal struggle, the images of Doc and Matt McFly on their wacky adventure not even registering as you bite into your pizza.
“Alright,” Eddie says, snatching the pizza out of your hands and tossing it back into the box sitting on the coffee table.
“Hey!” You protest, gaping at him. He lifts you by the waist until you’re in his lap for the second time that night, legs spread on either side of him. It’s not an unfamiliar position - you’ve had plenty of heated make out sessions sitting just like this. The edges of his belt buckle press into your belly as he grips your hips.
“Come on, spill it. What’s the matter?” He asks, face serious as his brown eyes search yours. His fingers inch up, digging into your ribs, making you giggle and squirm over him. “What’s got you so tense, baby?”
Rather than answer, you grip his face in your palms and tug his lips to yours. He’s soft at first, tentative like he’s unsure this is the right course of action to take when he’d been trying to get to the bottom of why you were acting weird. But he’s only human, after all, and when your lips part to allow his tongue to tangle with yours, his reservations fly out the window.
You’ve kissed boys before, but it’s never been like this. Never been all consuming, like you can feel him with every cell of your being. You shift in his lap, pressing as close as possible. Eddie’s hands land on your hips, stilling your movement as he pants against you.
“Christ, you gotta slow down,” he bites out, teeth gritted. His eyes are dark and half-lidded with lust, a look you’ve seen only in flashes before one of you pulled back for a breath.
“I don’t want to slow down anymore,” you whisper.
His eyes go comically wide. “Are you sure?”
In response, you grip the hem of your dress, pulling it over your head and dropping it to the floor behind you. You fight the urge to cover yourself, feeling more exposed than you ever have as his gaze roams your body, taking in your breasts in a simple cotton bra and the high cut panties to match.
“Ed—“
Your voice cuts off in a yelp as Eddie flips you onto your back on the couch cushions, his body wedged between your thighs as he looks down on you with a smirk. He licks his lips as he trails a hand from your neck, between the valley of your chest, over your tummy. Your muscles clench and you feel the pinch of goosebumps in the wake of his fingers.
“Sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, voice deeper than you’ve ever heard. He plants a kiss to the spot near your ear that’s extra sensitive. “How’d I get so lucky, huh? Pretty thing,” he coos. Your eyes go wide and your mouth goes dry at his words, and you try to lift your hips for some friction to relieve the pressure building between your legs.
He continues to plant kisses down your neck, nipping the thin skin with his teeth. The pain makes you bite out a labored curse that makes him chuckle.
“Tell me what you want, princess,” he says. “I’ll give you everything your sweet little brain can come up with.”
“I want…I want you to touch me.”
“I'm already doing that. Try again.” One of his hands slides under your back, nimble fingers popping the hook of your bra. “And be very specific.”
Your cheeks burn as he gazes at you expectantly. “I want you…to touch me down there.”
“Oh? Here?” He runs his thumb over your clit, the sudden sensation making you cry out. “You want me to touch your pretty pussy?”
You feel like you’re in danger of spontaneously combusting with how hot you feel all over. All you can do is nod vigorously as Eddie curls his hands into the waist of your panties and tugs them down and off your legs.
“Hold your legs up for me,” Eddie says, grabbing your hands and positioning them beneath your knees. “Let me get a good look at you.”
He leans back, down exactly that, staring down at your exposed body with reverence. You try to close your legs, but his hands on your thighs stop you as he makes a disapproving noise with his tongue.
“Good girls do as they’re told, princess. You wanna be a good girl for me right?” He asks, tone condescending in a way that makes a new wave of lust wash over you. With a whimper, you nod in reply. “Words,” he demands.
“Y-yeah. I wanna be a good girl,” you whisper.
“You wanna be my good girl,” he clarifies.
“I wanna be your good girl.”
“Christ.” He leans forward, grasping your face in his hand and kissing you senseless. He pulls away all too quickly, planting frantic kisses to your neck, shoving your bra out of the way to palm your tits, alternating between circling one hardened nipple with his thumb or his tongue. Your back arches and you squirm beneath him.
“You’re a little sensitive, aren’t you?” He asks, that mean tone back in his words.
He doesn’t wait for your reply as he moves on, those lips trailing down your tummy until they’re nipping and kissing at your inner thighs. He brings his thumbs to your wet heat, using them to spread you open before dragging his tongue through your folds.
“Eddie!”
“Fuck ,” he groans, tongue circling your clit in a maddening rhythm. He alternates between the sensitive nub and dipping the tip of his tongue into your entrance.
You’re pretty sure you’re having an out of body experience. His mouth feels so good, pulling every drop of pleasure possible from your body. All the blood rushes from your head and you writhe beneath him in desperation.
There’s a firm pressure at your slick hole and your eyes pop open, your head lifting from the couch to watch as he slides one finger into you until his ring is biting against your hot flesh. Your mouth drops open and his eyes lift to yours, his face damn near unrecognizable as he thrusts the digit in and out of you.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he bites out. “I’m going to add another finger, and you’re gonna come all over my hand and my face before I give you my cock.”
“Oh my god,” you say, the words breathless and needy as he slips another finger in, the stretch a slight burn that subsides quickly. His fingers curl and drag against something that makes you cry out. And when you do, he smirks, lowering his face to tongue your clit in tandem with the thrust of his hand.
You come with a shout, the noises of his hand lewd and wet as he works you through it. Your hands slip from your legs, unable to hold up the dead weight of them as you shake beneath him.
Eddie leans back, standing from the couch and scrambling out of his clothes in a way that would be comical if your brain wasn’t turned to mush. But as he tugs his pants down his thighs, your brain suddenly catches up with the program and you drink in the sight of him greedily.
The lines of compact muscle, the contrast of his tattoos against his pale skin, the light dusting of hair at the top of his chest and the matching trail that leads to…
Holy shit.
His cock is hard, an angry red at the head that looks almost painful. You have nothing to compare him to besides your own fingers but you know damn well that he’s thick and long enough to make you nervous.
He joins you on the couch, one knee planted to the cushions between your legs. He fists his length, giving it a leisurely pump as he stares down at your boneless body.
“There’s, uh, condoms. Behind the cushion,” you tell him, the words making you blush for what feels like the millionth time that evening.
“Oh? Did my sweet, innocent little princess prepare for this? Did my little slut want my cock so bad tonight?” He asks. Your eyes go wide and a moan claws up your throat. “Ah, she likes that, huh?”
You nod vigorously. He reaches a hand behind the back cushions, fishing for the box. He pulls a foil package out of the box and tears it open. “Eyes on me,” he says as he rolls the latex over his cock.
He plants a palm beside your head, his other hand gripping his cock and guiding it until the head is positioned at your weeping entrance. “This might hurt a little, baby. You gotta tell me if it’s too much.”
“Okay. I trust you.”
His eyes go soft. With a sweet kiss to your lips, a juxtaposition to the man who’d just called you a little slut. He presses forward, the blunt head of him slipping inside you with little resistance.
There’s a bite of pressure as he moves forward, your body giving way to the intrusion with a slight sting that subsides a delicious fullness. He pauses once his hips are flush to yours, a hand coming up to brush across your forehead, moving the sweat slick strands of hair from your face.
“You okay?” He asks. You nod, tilting your chin up for a kiss. He indulges you, smiling into it in a way that makes your heart flutter.
Eddie holds himself like that for a while, kissing you and letting you adjust. When the burn subsides and you’re just left with a slight ache and a new sensation of fullness, you shift your hips slightly under him.
He draws back slightly, the drag of his cock making you gasp and all the breath leaving your lungs as he drives back in. He sets a pace of short, hard thrusts that have you digging your nails into his back, dragging them down and leaving blooming red trails in the skin.
“That’s it, sweetheart, you mark me up however you want,” Eddie grunts. His thrusts become longer, deeper, more of a roll of his hips than a pound. A hand circles your throat, the grip gentle as his fingers press into the sides. “Sweet little angel, gripping my cock so tight.”
“Oh god,” you cry. Eddie leans back, the angle growing deeper. He brings his other hand to your lips, three of his fingers slipping inside your mouth. You run your tongue over the familiar calluses and he groans low in his throat.
Those spit slick fingers leave your mouth and he circles them over your clit roughly. “I want this little cunt to give me everything.”
With a whimper, the tightening of your belly releases in a wave, surprising you with its ferocity. The sensation is so unlike any of the times you’ve spent in the dark, your own hands exploring your body.
Eddie thrusts a few more times, his tempo stuttering as he chases his own release. He stills against you, hips pressed tightly to yours as he moans your name.
He pulls out of you, twisting to the side so that he’s lying sandwiched between your body and the couch so as not to crush you. He throws an arm over your waist, burying his head against your neck with a satisfied sigh.
“You sure know how to show a lady a good time, Munson,” you say. He laughs against your cooling skin.
“Would show you a good time for the rest of our lives if you’ll marry me,” he replies.
You huff out a little laugh before saying, “Not a chance.”
“I’ll change your mind.”
And not for the first time, you realize he’s right.
— 5 —
It’s the summer of 1990, and Corroded Coffin has a top hit on the radio and their first big gig out on the road tonight in Chicago.
You’re backstage at the venue, sitting in the green room and watching Eddie pace nervously. He looks especially fuckable, to the point you’re having trouble concentrating on his anxious monologue.
Denim battle vest, the same one that’s served him since high school, draped over his bare shoulders and exposing the muscle of his biceps and tantalizing peeks of his abs and chest. His hair is the longest it’s been but still the messy curls you love to run your hands through. He’s applied a smudge of eyeliner around his eyes, making his brown eyes larger and more hypnotizing.
Dear god, you’re going to combust.
“Are you even listening?” He asks, stopping dead in his tracks with his hands on his hips.
You smirk at him. “Not really. I already know you’re worrying about nothing. I’m just thinking about how fast I can make you come before you go on stage.”
His mouth drops open in surprise, but his eyes go dark. “Get in the bathroom. Now.”
You hop up from the ratty couch, sliding your hand over his stomach as you pass and throwing him a wink. He follows in behind you, shutting the door forcefully and flipping the lock.
His hand wraps around the back of your neck, tangling in your hair and pulling you into a bruising kiss. On a breath he murmurs, “I love you.”
“Love you more, Munson.”
“Now get on your fucking knees.”
You drop like a rock, the linoleum cold against your knees, the fabric of your fishnets uncomfortable ywhere it presses against your skin. Eddie unbuttons his fly, pulling his hardening cock from the confines of his jeans. He grips the bottom of your jaw in one hand and growls out, “Open your mouth.”
You do as you’re told, sticking your tongue out and waiting for him to slide his length into your waiting mouth. He taps the tip against your tongue, teasing you, before he slips it past your lips and into the wet heat.
“That’s it, baby,” Eddie whispers. “Just like that.”
You let Eddie set the pace he needs, both of his hands digging into your hair in a tight hold as he uses your mouth. You’ve got spit leaking out of the corners of your lips and your eyes are watering from the lack of air, but you just look up at him through your lashes and moan.
“Christ, you have no idea, no idea , what you do to me, princess,” he groans, his head dropping back, hips moving faster but more shallowly.
There’s a hard knock at the door and the band’s new manager, Steven, calls through the flimsy wood, “You better get your ass out here, Munson, you’re on in five.”
But Eddie just keeps going, ignoring the man that holds the power to make or break his career in his hands, growling out, “Eyes on me.”
Your lashes are sticky with tears and mascara as you look up and watch him unravel, the ecstasy running across his features making your core clench. His release hits the back of your throat and you swallow around him.
When he’s done, he pulls you up by the hair, gripping your chin and hauling you into a rough kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth even as it tastes of him.
He pulls away, his thumbs swiping beneath your eyes to clean up the black streaks left by your mascara. “Marry me?” Eddie asks, and you smile at him.
Another knock sounds at the door. “Alright, lovebirds. Two minutes.”
“You better get out there and knock ‘em dead, Eds,” you murmur, leaning your forehead against his.
“Just for you,” he tells you with a wink, pulling back to right himself in his pants. He flips the lock on the door and pulls it open, the dark bathroom flooding with light.
The rest of the guys are crowded in the green room and Steve looks at Eddie and rolls his eyes. “Finally. Alright, boys, let’s show ‘em what you’ve got.”
He leads them out of the room and to the stage and you trail behind, finding a spot stage right to watch from the wings. Your face hurts from smiling so hard, watching the same boys who used to play in a garage playing on a stage in front of a crowd screaming along with them, for them.
“You’ve been an amazing crowd, Chicago!” Eddie screams into the mic. The answering roar is deafening. “We’ve got one more song and it’s a brand new one.”
A melody you don’t recognize fills the concert hall. The intro is heavy on Eddie and Jeff’s guitars and as Eddie begins to sing, Frankie and Gareth join in.
I'll be your dream, I'll be your wish, I'll be your fantasy
I'll be your hope, I'll be your love, be everything that you need
I love you more with every breath truly, madly, deeply do
I will be strong, I will be faithful 'cause I'm counting on
A new beginnin'
A reason for livin'
A deeper meaning, yeah
Eddie’s face is tilted in your direction as he sings, eyes finding yours as he starts in on the chorus.
I wanna stand with you on a mountain
I wanna bathe with you in the sea
I wanna lay like this forever
Until the sky falls down on me
You smile at him, your eyes stinging at the emotion welling in them.
And when the stars are shining brightly in the velvet sky
I'll make a wish, send it to heaven and make you want to cry
The tears of joy for all the pleasure and the certainty
That we're surrounded by the comfort and protection
Of the highest powers
In lonely hours
The tears devour you
And devour you they do.
— +1 —
Eddie’s got one hand on the wheel and the other in the pocket of his leather jacket, fingers running along the sharp corners of the box he's hidden away in there.
You’re beside him in the passenger seat, practically bouncing in excitement. It’s 1991, one year to the day of the release of Corroded Coffin’s first hit record. They’ve been on one tour already, but he’s home for a three month stretch and now that you’re both in a good place financially, you’re looking at houses to buy to get out of the little two bedroom apartment you’d been renting.
“This is so exciting,” you say for the hundredth time. And for the hundredth time, Eddie grins at you. “Our first house!”
“I feel like we did this backwards. Should we have bought a house before buying a dive bar? Is that the normal order?” You’d used a portion of your savings to buy The Hideout from Hank, who finally retired to Florida content in the knowledge that the bar was in the safe hands of the girl he’d begrudgingly hired fresh out of high school and couldn’t shake himself loose from.
You smack him in the arm. “Shut up. Who cares. You’ve always done things your own way. Why stop now?”
“You’re right.” He grabs your hand, planting a kiss to your knuckles.
“I hope this one is nice,” you comment, staring out the window. Eddie smiles to himself.
He’d picked this one to go see. In fact, he’s already been to it and immediately placed an offer on it. You think you’re meeting up with a realtor, but the keys dangle from his key ring already.
Eddie pulls up to the little three bedroom, two bathroom ranch situated about five miles north of The Hideout. The lots are large, the homes bordered in the back by thick woods. The one he’s purchased is a deep navy blue with a bright red door and he watches your eyes take it in.
“Oh, it’s adorable,” you say wistfully. You jump from the passenger seat, looking around. “Where’s the realtor? You told him noon, didn’t you?”
“Oh, we don’t need a realtor,” Eddie says. You tilt your head at him, brow furrowed. “I bought it.”
“You bought it?”
“Yep.”
“You bought a house?”
“Yep.”
“You bought this house?”
“Sure did.” He holds the key up to you. “Go ahead.”
You snatch it from his hand and run up the front walk, shouldering your way in. Eddie trails it behind you and watches as you run from room to room, your smile growing bigger and brighter with each pass.
“This closet!” He hears you shout from the master bedroom. “It’s bigger than our bedroom at the apartment!”
He chuckles as he goes to the living room and stands in the center, lowering himself to one knee and pulling the ring box from his pocket. He settles in to wait for you to find him.
It doesn’t take long. You tear into the room, speaking a mile a minute about how you want to decorate, but you stop short when you see him there.
Eddie swallows nervously. He’s asked you to marry him since the first time he’s met you, and you’d always told him, “Not a chance.”
Over time, the exchange became more synonymous with any other couple saying “I love you” and “I love you, too”, just with your own flair.
But now, he means it. And he lifts the lid of the box to show the plain silver band sitting in the velvet. “Hey, princess. You ready to change your mind?”
You rush towards him, throwing your arms around his neck and toppling the two of you to the ground in a heap. You grab his face, kissing him deeply.
“That a yes?” He asks when you break apart, breathless and panting.
“It’s most definitely a yes, Munson.” You grin at him as he lifts your left hand and slips the ring onto it.
Right where it belongs.
#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fic#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x fem!reader smut#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x female reader#rockstar eddie munson#eddie munson x reader smut#eddie munson#eddie stranger things#stranger things fic#no use of y/n#5+1 fic
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the fact that you would defend the israeli government after they’ve murdered 30,000 innocents in the largest bombing campaign in modern history is literally despicable and borderline evil. if a genocide documented ad nauseam cannot make you cognizant of israel’s colonial and deeply racist regime, then literally nothing can and you are beyond reasoning with. actually incredible how multiple history degrees have clearly taught you nothing about how a genocide works — or perhaps more concerningly, they have, and you simply don’t care because the victims are palestinian. the fact that you would use those very history degrees to excuse israel’s genocide of palestinians is deeply disturbing and indicative of the rancid hypocrisy within western academia. history will exonerate the indigenous palestinians, and it will be unkind to those like you who defended and cheered on their annihilation.
It‘s so amazing to me that you actually believe this, and that you‘ve so wholeheartedly swallowed the propaganda Hamas (known for using their own civilians as human shields, known for paying their citizens extra for killing Jews) has been peddling. So I am going to paste here some points others have already made that I‘ve saved over the course of information-gathering, though I doubt you‘ll bother to read or learn, judging from your asinine little comments here.
1) Palestine Gaza is a genocidal nation. The goal of the Palestinian government in Gaza is literally to destroy and commit genocide against Israel and kill every Jew by every means possible. This is literally written in their founding charter.
"The Day of Judgement will not come about until Moslems fight the Jews (killing the Jews), when the Jew will hide behind stones and trees. The stones and trees will say O Moslems, O Abdulla, there is a Jew behind me, come and kill him. Only the Gharkad tree, (evidently a certain kind of tree) would not do that because it is one of the trees of the Jews."
There is no solution for the Palestinian question except through Jihad. Initiatives, proposals and international conferences are all a waste of time and vain endeavors. The Palestinian people know better than to consent to having their future, rights and fate toyed with.
2) Palestine is an apartheid nation that has ethnically cleansed 100% of their Jews and stole their territory after 1948. There used to be tens of thousands of Jews living in the areas of Judea and Samaria, which was renamed to the West Bank by Jordan. However they've all been ethnically after the 1948 Arab-Israeli war and 0 Jews are allowed to live in Palestine today.
3) Palestine is an authoritarian dictatorship both in Gaza and the West Bank. Hamas won majority of the votes during an election in 2006, but the Palestinian president simply refused to recognize the results of the election and refused to hand power over to them. This resulted in Hamas siezing power in Gaza, executing hundreds of their political rivals, and they never held another election. Likewise, the leadership in the West Bank also refused to hold any elections and still continue to illegitimately cling to power. Abbas, the president of Palestine had a 4 year term which was supposed to end in 2009. He's still the leader today and has continued to postpone election after election.
4) Palestine supports the outright open murder of innocent civilians. I've already mentioned the charter of the Palestinian government in Gaza above where their goal is to eradicate Israel and genocide Israelis, but the Palestinian government in West Bank is just as horrible. There's the Palestinian Authority Matry Fund where they literally pay a salary / pension to any Palestinians who commmit terrorist attacks against Israelis, be it through stabbings, shootings or suicide bombings, and they've paid out billions so far.
The Foundation for the Care of the Families of Martyrs pays monthly cash stipends to the families of Palestinians killed, injured, or imprisoned while carrying out violence against Israel.
5) Palestine is horribly corrupt oligarchy. Palestine receives billions from the USA and Europe in aid every single year. Whatever money isn't spent on paying literal terrorists, or on rockets to shoot at Israel ends up going to corrupt Palestinian leaders. Yasser Arafat, the first Palestinian leader, died a billionaire. Abbas the current President is worth $100 million. The Palestinian leaders in Gaza, Ismail Haniyeh, Moussa Abu Marzuk and Khaled Mashal have an estimated combined wealth of over $10 billion. Meanwhile the combined GDP of Gaza is only about $2.5 billion, meaning these 3 leaders wealth is equal to 4 years of Gaza's GDP.
6) Palestinians have caused wars and instability in every country that they've sought refuge in. In Jordan, Palestinains assasinated the Jordanian king in 1951, then attempted a coup of a the country in 1970. After they failed, they were expelled to Lebanon where they started a civil war with the Christian Maronites. This war lasted 15 years and killed several times more people than the entire Israel-Palestine war (150k died in Lebanon civil war vs 25k in Palestinian-Israeli wars). In Kuwait, the Palestinians supported Saddam as Iraq invaded Kuwait. In Egypt, they've been hit by several bombings by Palestinians.
7) There is no freedom of speech or equality in Palestine Gaza. No equality of sexes, no equality of races, and definitely no queer rights in the entirety of Palestine where you could be killed for the crime of being openly queer. [If you identify as a liberal, there is literally] no reason to support a country where majority of [your] friends would either have severely restricted rights, be treated like objects, or be thrown off a building just for existing.
Let me reiterate: Jews are indigenous to Israel. Jews have existed and lived in what we now call the Israel-Palestine region for thousands of years before the foundation of Islam, and even before the foundation of Christianity. In the game of “which Abrahamic religion came first?” Islam ranks dead last.
Israel as an identity as a people has existed for thousands of years and has been recorded as far back as the Iron Age on:
i) The Mesha Stele;
ii) The Tel Dan Stele;
iii) The Kurkh Monoliths; and (potentially)
iv) The Merneptah Stele.
While scholars have argued over the translations on the Merneptah Stele, the general consensus among historians, classicists, archaeologist, etc, is that it refers to the existence of Israel at the very least as a collective identity that existed at the time, and was called Israel.
They were eventually repeatedly forced out by other powers such as the Romans and many others, but that doesn’t change the fact that Jews had a continuous existence in Israel before being forced out by what people like you would normally call “colonising powers” were it not so contrary to your own ill-supported arguments. It also doesn’t change the fact that Jews, and Israel, existed before both Christianity and Islam, and long, long before Palestine.
So if your entire argument boils down to "who was here first" and the ideas of "colonialism" and "anti-colonialism" and "decolonisation", then I am telling you, Jews were there first. You could argue Canaanite groups like Moabites and Ammonites were there too, but Moabites and Ammonites don't exist as a continuous group anymore. No matter how you look at it, you are wrong, so let me parrot your horrible argument right back at you:
The fact that you would defend Hamas, a known organisation whose founding Charter literally calls for the annihilation of Jews, who have systematically purged Jews for years, who launched multiple attacks against innocent Jewish people (the music festival, the babies and the woman and the children slaughtered), the fact that there's a Palestinian Authority Matry Fund where they literally pay a salary / pension to any Palestinians who commit terrorist attacks against Israelis, be it through stabbings, shootings or suicide bombings, and they've paid out billions so far; the fact that you defend the existence of the Foundation for the Care of the Families of Martyrs which pays monthly cash stipends to the families of Palestinians killed, injured, or imprisoned while carrying out violence against Israel, etc... that you would defend this is "literally despicable" and not only outright evil, but ignorant to the nth degree.
If the continuous genocidal nature of Hamas against Israel cannot make you cognizant of Hamas' deeply racist, violence, and terrorist regime (to the point where none of the Muslim countries around them will take Palestinians in; even their fellow Muslim countries want nothing to do with them), then I'm not sure what to tell you. You say I am beyond reasoning, but from where I'm standing, your head is so far up your own ass that I don't even know if you're aware of anything that isn't the smell of your own shit.
It's actually incredible to me how you can ignore what multiple historians and scholars are saying because you want to cling to your idea that Hamas are just a bunch of "poor innocent brown people" who need help from the "evil white Israeli regime". Or perhaps, more "concerningly," that is just it: you hate Israel because you erroneously perceive them as white, and so therefore they must be evil. I don't know, but that is what a lot of anti-Israel sentiment seems to boil down to in the world of people like you.
The fact that you would excuse and ignore Hamas' outright horrific acts and ignore history is deeply disturbing and indicative of the rancid hypocrisy within the west, but particularly within western circles that claim to be "progressive", "liberal", and "leftist."
Hamas has said no to every ceasefire. Hamas has said no to every compromise Israel has offered even before October. If Hamas stops fighting, the war ends. If Israel stops, then Israel is annihilated.
History has already shown that Palestinians are not indigenous if we are playing the "who was there first" game with Israel and Palestine, you're just so ignorant that you will refuse to see the evidence right in front of you. You are the one cheering for the annihilation of an indigenous group, and the one history will frown upon is you.
#antisemitism#Sorry for everyone on my dash who had to read this long reply.#I have sat on this for a month wondering whether to release it. Seriously grappling with everything. But.#Here we go. Will I delete it later? I am not sure. But.#There are too few people willing to speak up on this because they're scared of militant Palestinian supporters.#And truthfully I am scared of them! Militant Palestinian supporters are terrifying and my country has MANY#But this is my line in the sand. I so rarely draw them with political conflicts but this is it for me.#If you support Hamas you are DISGUSTING.#And you cannot divorce the fact that the vast majority of Palestinians have supported and do support Hamas.#People literally cheer for Hamas in the streets here and call for the annihilation of Israel.#Universities defend this shit too (see: the scandal with Penn State and Harvard)#I am so open politically I neither identify as right or left I so rarely truly put my foot down and say#'if you believe this you are disgusting'#But? Yeah.#And maybe I will have a mas exodus of followers now but whatever.#ancient Israel
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Lily, Remus and Pandora Headcanons (ridiculously long list)
they're my blorbos i would give my life for them. i project a lot onto remus and lily, so if anything is wildly out of character it's probably that
Lily
very kindhearted but also sarcasm queen
burnt out
Academic validation > real sense of self worth
needs external validation (no this is not healthy she's working on it)
better at potions than snivellus and he hates it hehehe
average at „regular“ magic (spells etc) but exceptional at „scienc-y magic“ (potions, arithmancy, astronomy, herbology etc) bc she's just that cool
plant mom (also green plants > flowers)
actually a rulebreaker, she’s just too smart to get caught
struggles to feel like she belongs: witch in the muggle world, muggle in the wizard world
study buddies to best friends with Remus
fav colours sage green and lavender
sorting hat couldn’t decide between gryffindor and ravenclaw at first
never involved in any drama but knows all about it
everyone is very surprised whenever she swears but she actually swears a lot
tells Pandora about the greek pandora myth and thinks that that's flirting
lotssssss of freckles
curvy/chubby
she is so sleep deprived
sneaks into the library at night (oh wherever could the sleep deprivation come from i have no idea)
loves christmas season (decorating, baking, cheesy movies, music, buying gifts for friends etc., not the christian part)
stress-bakes but can't even cook spaghetti without burning down the kitchen (baking is just different than cooking for her)
constantly apologizes for everything
smokes occasionally and always swears it's the last time (it’s not)
actually not that short but looks very short next to remus and pandora
abba fan (unironically) and always tries to get sirius to dress up as abba with her, remus and pandora (she already coerced persuaded them) for halloween
soft but wouldn't hesitate to kill for the ppl she loves
would love penelope scott if she was a modern teen bc i say so
first one to notice remus has a crush on sirius and vice versa
last one to notice she has a crush on pandora and vice versa
reminds others to drink/eat/sleep/dress warm enough but often doesn't herself bc she feels like she 'doesn't deserve it' :((
kind of a people-pleaser but remus is helping her to stop
so afraid of failure she sometimes doesn’t even try
Remus
doesn't cry (not on purpose he just suppressed his emotions for so long he literally can't cry anymore unless he has a full on mental breakdown)
caffeine addiction
won’t drink anything that isn't hot (eg coffee and tea, but also just hot water)
covers up his intense self hatred with jokes (not self deprecating but like joking about being perfect and stuff, idk how to explain it it's mostly me projecting bc i do that lmao)
very sarcastic and can come off as harsh
actually very nice and non-judgmental
chocolate >>>>>
never involved in any drama but wants to know all about it (Lily is his main source of information)
swears a lot
teachers think he’s very responsible but he just doesn’t get caught being irresponsible
smokes too much
thought the sorting head made a mistake by sorting him into gryffindor at first and still feels insecure about it all through his hogwarts years
patronus is a big black dog(sdfghjk)
very very tall but like kind of lanky
lots of scars obv
Sirius had to ask him out (and later propose to him sdfghjdfs) bc he had too much self doubt/hatred and thought Sirius would never want to be with him :(( (He did. Sirius very much wanted to be with him. Very much.)
top tier insomniac (lily makes sleep droughts for him tho)
lily taught him how to bake and now he loves it and is getting quite good at it
corrects people's grammar
knows every single abba lyric bc of lily
david bowie fan
constantly third-wheeling pandora and lily
hits/breaks things when angry, sometimes hits himself but never others
so afraid of rejection he ends up pushing ppl away (they can’t leave you if you don’t let them close in the first place) (his only close friends still are James, Sirius, Peter and Lily, but it took so long for him to let especially Lily close. Pandora still isn’t quite there even tho they are def very good friends)
Pandora
very smart but only does anything at all if she likes the class/thinks it makes sense to have the class
only follows rules she thinks make sense and most teachers just gave up trying to do something about it
experiments with magic a lot
has scars from said experiments
also random bruises and scratches of unknown origin
wears large quantities of jewellery (piercings, earrings, necklaces, bracelets, beads etc in her butterfly locs)
homemade jewellery >>>>>
cannot flirt to save her life
eyeliner.
absolutely in love with lily’s brain
doesn’t drink caffeine
her maiden name is lovegood and both lily and her become lovegood-evans later bc in my brain they marry
just wanders around sometimes (excuses it with saying she sleepwalks if she gets caught past curfew)
t a l l
the sorting head barely touched her head before sorting her into ravenclaw
patronus is an octopus bc it's very intelligent but often seen as 'weird'
fav flower is the lily of the valley (sfdghjk)
knits (she knits sweaters and scarfs for lily <3)
is like the only one in this trio that actually feels pretty good about herself
although she does realize ppl tend to see her as 'weird' she just kind of accepted it? like, yeah, other ppl can be close-minded but she knows that and doesn't let it define her; as long as she's happy and doesn't hurt ppl it's all good for her
exclusively drinks sparkling water and jasmine tea
hates the feeling of brushing her teeth and is always working on spells/potions(with lily sdfghjdfs) that clean her teeth for her
would definitely also love penelope scott if she was a modern teen
loves pastries and other little baked goods
literally doesn't get cold
#marauders#marauders era#the marauders#marauders fandom#marauders headcanon#marauder headcanons#headcanons#headcanon#remus lupin#remus#lily evans#pandora lovegood#pandalily#pandora x lily#lily x pandora#remus lupin headcanon#remus lupin hc#pandora#pandora lovegood headcanons#lily evans headcanons#lily evans hc#pandora rosier#pandora lestrange#lily evans potter
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I spent some time with a friend yesterday. We briefly came on the topic of Palestine. Briefly because I knew we would have opposing views as she's Muslim. I have sympathy for Israeli and Palestinian civilians. She only has sympathy for Palestinian civilians. She wouldn't even refer to Hamas as a terrorist organisation. And it made me wonder how many Muslims have been told that Hamas is not evil? How many are taught that Israel is getting what it deserves? It makes me wonder why there are many many pro Palestine protests calling for a ceasefire but Jewish communities are getting no support whatsoever. Saying the word Israel feels like it is something dirty. And I am scared. I know Israel and Palestine have been in conflict for years and Israel has oppressed Palestine for a very long time. But how can people think that a terrorist organisation will bring them liberation?
Hi Nonnie, I'm sorry you had this experience. I'm sending you hugs!
I wanna introduce you to Mansour Abbas:
He's a devout Muslim Israeli Arab, and the chairman of an Arab Islamic party in Israel. He's not a part of the current governing coalition in Israel, but he was a part of the last one. He is still a member of the Knesset (MK, member of the Israeli parliament).
A few days ago, MKs were invited to see a 40+ minutes long film composed of footage from the Hamas terrorists, CCTV, victims cellphone recordings, etc. It's some of the horrors that most people haven't seen. No MK had to attend, and quite a few chose not to. I can understand, many of those who watched the footage fell apart, some couldn't stay to the end.
Mansour Abbas chose to come, and he brought with him two MKs from his party. One of the Jewish MKs said Abbas was crying during the screening. Abbas himself made it clear that what the Hamas terrorists did was sacrilege and goes against everything that Islam stands for. When one of the members of his party, an MK who didn't attend the screening, denied the horrors of the massacre, he demanded that she resign from the Knesset (heads of parties can't fire MKs, the latter have to resign). She's refusing to, and according to journalists, Abbas is looking for other ways in order to sanction her.
I'm saying all of this, because I want it to be clear that, much like every other human group, Muslims are not a monolith. Yes, there is a history of antisemitism in Muslim majority countries, that tends to be ignored (something that we have to address, if we want any hope of eradicating that antisemitism and make relations between Jews and Muslims better). Yes, there is a tendency to present the Palestinian issue to Muslims as if it's an Islamic issue, so they're all meant to take the same stand on it (and of course that can go hand in hand with a lot of misinformation. I have an online friend, who lives in a country, where I expect none of what she hears about Israel and Hamas is true). But Muslims are not a monolith, especially ones who live in the west, and have free and full access to information, to the real historical records, and not just to anti-Israeli propaganda.
So that brings me to two points that can and do coexist:
I do NOT want to treat all Muslims automatically as if they will for sure be against Israel to the point of having no empathy for Israelis and/or Jews...
If they are against Israel to that extreme degree, and if they are living in a western country, then it is, at least partly, on them.
And in this context, I'd like to share this vid that was sent to me.
youtube
So regarding this friend, I guess it's a question of how you feel about it. Do you think she has the conditions to look beyond this narrative, and see Israelis as people, who deserve empathy just like everyone else, and yet she doesn't?
(as a very small footnote, I wouldn't say that Israel oppresses Palestine, 'coz that makes this conflict far more one-sided than it actually has been...)
I'll say that for myself, that friend who lives in a country that is defined as an enemy of Israel? Where she will never get the truth (and that country doesn't exactly have free press in general)? I don't hold it against her. In her context, it's pretty amazing she's even talking to me when she knows I'm an Israeli. But other Muslim friends I have? Or even other non-Muslim friends from the west, who know Jews, who should know better than to uncritically accept a de-humanizing narrative? Yeah, I feel differently about them. IDK if this helps you in figuring out how you feel about this girl. I hope it does.
(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)
#ask#anon ask#israel#israeli#israel news#israel under attack#israel under fire#israelunderattack#terrorism#anti terrorism#antisemitism#hamas#antisemitic#antisemites#jews#jew#judaism#jumblr#frumblr#jewish
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Trailer park kids Eddie x reader headcanons
Major implications for southern-esque Eddie. Just growing old together as poor kids
Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader
This is way longer than I was planning lmao. Literally like 2k words of headcanons but it’s cute so it’s fine
(No descriptions of reader, gender neutral)
At least where I’m from trailer parks are a major sense of community. Eddie growing up surrounded by people who would always have his back fueled him as a kid. I know we often make Eddie a sad kid who was hated by everyone but I like to think the trailer park helped Wayne raise Eddie a lot while he was growing up.
When Wayne was working long shifts at the plant Eddie would go over to his neighbor's house for dinner and homework help. The nice lesbian ladies taught Eddie all about Dolly Parton. 9 to 5 became his anthem as a 13-year-old kid who has watched everyone around him get screwed over by “the man”
As his best friend for life, you grew up in the same trailer park, but instead of an angsty teen who is all for bringing down the patriarchy, you grew up to be a spunky happy go lucky person who loves running around barefoot, dancing to country music and singing off pitch as loudly as you can while Eddie just stares with a smitten look. (Obviously, you also hate the patriarchy but Eddie wears his love of anarchy loud and proud)
It’s always been you and Eddie growing up but there were a few trailer park kids who you would play pretended with. None of you had toys growing up, money typically went towards food and bills so it was rare for a toy to be seen in the park. When someone did get lucky to get something new it was a big hit. None of the kids were stingy with their toys because growing up poor you learn to care for those who don’t have what you do.
Having a secret spot for just you and Eddie in the woods behind your trailer. It wasn’t anything special, just a dried-out River that had a lot of stray cats nearby.
You broke your arm falling out of a tree in the woods so in order to make you feel better Eddie threw himself out of the same tree on purpose hoping to break his arm as well.
It worked
Having matching casts. Eddie got pink because you got pink and when it was time to switch colors Eddie chose the camo green plaster so you did what any best friend would do and got pink again
Eddie crying because you didn’t copy him
“It’s ugly teddy, I don’t know what you wanted me to do”
This makes him sob even more. (Ofc the broken arm isn’t what made him cry)
By the third plaster switch you learned your lesson and let Eddie choose for the both of you which made everything better
Wayne saved every cast. Each one is full of signatures from the problem of forest hills. Many of them are relics with names of elders who have passed or families who got lucky enough to move away. It was a weird momento but they were put in a box in storage
I like to think Wayne is a very sentimental guy, saving everything he can of Eddie’s (and yours by association) as a way to try and make Eddie’s childhood better. It’s dumb but something Wayne thinks helps.
Sharing your Walkman together listening to tapes handed down from neighbors. Good music was expensive so most of the recordings consisted of ’50s and 60’s classics but sometimes someone would give you something newer like an Abba or Led Zeppelin cassette.
One day one of the burly biker guys who lived in a trailer on the other side of the park gave Eddie a few of his Dio tapes and that was the start of his metal addiction. (I like to believe Eddie isn’t really a music elitist, he just doesn’t like when people disregard his interests, and metal music is typically talked down upon so he’s gotten used to defending it)
Like I said, he grew up on country and Dolly Parton. He has no right to be rude about other people's musical interests.
It’s just a part of the defense mechanism he built up when he realized that the trailer park and the way people treated each other was just a little bubble and most people aren't that nice. Especially the upper-class folks who look down on you in school for not using “proper English.”
(You and Eddie as well as most of the trailer park kids failed English at least once because of all the southern slang and phrases you used in your essays that were supposed to be professional)
I like to think Eddie has had a screaming match with one of his English teachers about certain words not being real.
“Mr. Munson how many times do I have to tell you ‘fixen to’ isn’t a real phrase” “well I’m FIXEN TO tell you that y’er wrong”
“Mr. Munson, you can’t do that in my classroom.” “Can’t n’ver coulda done nothin, Mrs. T”
I don’t know just young Eddie arguing with southern phrases as his comebacks, his trailer park accent still making an appearance. It’s cute.
You and Eddie were a force to be wreckin with. Your mom and his uncle couldn’t handle your shenanigans
I like to think that all the years of growing up together you and Eddie had sleepovers every night. Even on school nights. Like switching between his trailer and yours. It wasn’t a big deal because you lived next door to each other but it was still a hassle.
“Where are your pj's?” “Left 'em at Eddie’s.”
“Eds have you seen your backpack? We gotta get your homework done” “yeah.” “Where is it?” “Ts at Bugs.”
(Eddie calls you Bug because as a kid he’d chase you around with them. You don’t have a fear of them but playing tag with worms is much more fun especially when Eddie thinks you’re scared)
Eddie had freckles and a gap tooth growing up. The freckles faded because he never went outside in his teen years and his gap went away when his grown-up teeth grew in.
The younger teenage years between you two were filled with tension. Puberty wasn’t fun especially when you both grew out of the baby faces and couldn’t bathe together anymore.
Lots of stolen glances and yearning except neither of you knew what the feelings were so they were labeled as platonic. Even when thing’s definitely crossed the boundaries of friendship it was “just how we act” which definitely made realizing you were in love a lot harder as adults
Standing up for each other in high school. (Having the other kids from forest hills also stand up for you guys. It was a found family of hoodlums of course you were gonna stick together)
You actually weren’t a part of hellfire. You didn’t sit with them you didn’t talk to them you didn’t share any interests with them. The only reason why you knew about any of that stuff was because of Eddie. So you had your own group of school friends that you sat with at lunch
The only time you talked to anyone in that club was for corroded coffin. Jeff, Gareth, and Charlie got used to you being around for practice and gigs even if you had no clue about anything they were doing.
You and Eddie were definitely the type of friends to kiss and say it was just platonic
You’re the only person who has seen Eddie cry other than Wayne and your mom when he was a kid.
Getting detention on purpose if the other got in trouble. School was unfair to kids like you, so might as well get some quality bestie time out of it.
As you got older and Eddie finally graduated he managed to leave and move to the “city” with Robin and Steve leaving too behind. It wasn’t far, the city being only about 2 hours away but daily hangouts turned to weekly if you were lucky.
One summer Eddie brings the gang (Steve Robin and Dustin technically max is there but like that doesn’t count she lives there) to the trailer park for a tailgate/block party where they meet you. Dancing barefoot with Marlene and Darcy, a few girls who you grew up with who weren’t lucky enough to get out of the park. Well, you and Marlene were dancing, Darcy was a few months pregnant with her first kid, but you were sure to include her in the fun. (You three were the resident line dancers at these parties, dancing like no one’s watching.)
You don’t notice Eddie and his new friends right away. In fact, Eddie found your shoes before he found you, thrown towards the side, your socks not far behind. The only reason why you noticed Eddie is because Wayne called your name once the song ended and he was standing next to his uncle.
Running as fast as possible toward the boy. You can hear the pads of your feet on the gravel street the party was being held on. I mean full-on throwing yourself in his arms screaming the nickname you had for him (tater, short for tater tot because as a kid he’d carry them around in his pocket for snacks when he got hungry.)
He wasn’t gone for long. You both had seen each other a few weeks ago but when you spend nineteen years together every day of your life, three weeks seem like a lifetime.
It’s always been an unspoken assumption in the trailer park that you and Eddie would get married at some point. The gossip stopped when he moved to the city, especially because the new gossip was that Marcus (another boy from the park) was wantin to ask your mom for permission to marry you since Eddie was “out of the picture”
Of course, you were none the wiser. You’ve had plenty of suitors but why take any of their offers when you had your best friend Eddie? It’s totally platonic to want to move into a house, share a bed and cuddle up in the mornings, raise a kid, adopt a cat, grow old, and be buried together.
Mhm best friend Eddie
Being in the park, Eddie’s new friends get to see a new side of him.
You convince him to dance with you. Lots of twirling and laughing together. (City Eddie wouldn’t be caught dead dancing to country music)
Screaming the lyrics to red solo cup with each other while pouring drinks (quoting the song you told Steve that he didn’t have a pair of testicles since he preferred to drink from a glass (fuck king Steve who threw parties Idk who that is, I just know sad Steve who was forced to be a rich businessman growing up)
rushing around like headless chickens looking for the props you needed to perform a true southern draw (growing up the two of you lived to play cowboys.) yelling at some of the younger kids in the park for their plastic guns and stealing cowboy hats from some of the elder guys who were sitting in the plastic white chairs strewn around.
Fake draws were serious in this household.
Of course, you both cheat turning and shooting before someone told you to draw your guns. This definitely turns into a huge screaming match.
Letting Dustin have his first sip of beer
“How old is the boy? Fifteen?! And you’ve never even had a sip of beer? Tater you’ve changed, he’s well past his prime your supposed to introduce him to it as his elder.”
Fighting with Steve because he’s trying to stop you from giving Dustin beer but Dustin is all for it. He thinks it’s gonna officially make him a man.
Of course, he spits it out right away. Cheap beer is disgusting, but it’s a delicacy in the trailer park.
When Eddie goes back to the city, he makes a joke about stealing you to come live with him. And of course, you agree. The joke turns into a real conversation about getting you out of Hawkins and it doesn’t take much convincing on his end.
Of course, the apartment he shared doesn’t have an extra room but you can just share his room. You know? Take half of his closet, you can have your own key and share his bed as you’ve always done. And of course, you get whatever side you want and sometimes Eddie would bring you breakfast in bed, and hold your hand, and give you little kisses, but it’s totally platonic with a capital P, and definitely not just dating without dating (mhm yep sure)
The city is much different from forest hills. Eddie has to basically build a contraption that resembles those leash kid backpacks so you don’t run off.
Definitely a golden retriever x golden retriever dressed as a black cat dynamic
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie x reader#stranger things x reader#eddie munson headcanons#southern!eddie#eddie munson x you fluff#eddie munson x you#🪲 headcanons#🪲 my work
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The Senator’s Daughter: Chapter 1 (BodyGuard! Dave York x Female Reader
AN: AHHHH! It’s finally here! I am so sorry it took as long as it did, and honestly I wanted to make this chapter longer, but it would’ve taken me like... 2 more weeks to get it to the length I wanted it to be. So, I decided I have kept you waiting long enough and to just publish it as it is. Again, if you already read my mini update this is redundant, but if not I will say again; I am a full time teacher, at the middle school level at that, so time is not really on my side with most things haha, so it may take me a while to get these chapters posted, but trust that they will be posted! Thank you all for reading, and thank you for your patience! -M
Rating: M for language. Future chapters WILL BE EXPLICIT, 18+ ONLY
Word Count: 1.9K
Series Warnings: Language, Eventual Smut (18+ ONLY FOR THE WHOLE SERIES), AFAB!Reader, No use of Y/N, Divergence from Canon, Mean Dom!Dave York, Bratty!Reader, AGE GAP (reader is of age!), Enemies to Lovers, Mentions of Drug/Alcohol Abuse, Politics lol, Minor violence, mentions of parental abuse.
~~~~~~~~~~
Jesus Christ.
Whoever’s bright idea it was to make ABBA your godforsaken alarm should be lined up, and swiftly kicked in the shins.
Nothing is more frustrating than being hungover, feeling half dead, honestly waking up still drunk, and then “Man After Midnight” starts blasting these fucking rodeo beats in your ear.
Great song, terrible decision.
Honestly, it probably was your decision. The decision you made when you were trying to turn your life around for the… probably thousandth time. You most likely thought you would hear that song blasting in the morning, and immediately the adrenaline would start pumping, and you’d feel driven to get up and go for a 7 mile jog along the beach, come home make some smoothie that’s more kale than anything else, maybe go get that degree your dad’s always been begging you to do, and be driven to never, ever touch a drop of alcohol ever again.
And yet, that plan never worked. And here you are, listening to Swedish Pop icons ABBA, questioning whether or not you had died, and ended up in some weird 8th circle of hell.
Honestly, that’d probably would’ve been better.
Fuck. The sun is too fucking bright, ABBA is too fucking loud, you’re too fucking nauseous, everything is too fucking much. You try to fumble over to your phone, switch that shit off, crawl under the comforter that you know is way too expensive, and sleep until the evening and its time to go back out. You’re halfway through figuring out how to hit the off button on this brand-new iPhone, counting down the moments till you’re finally able to know peace and try to sleep off this massive hangover that’s dragging you through the mud by your big toes.
But before you can even start to consider that option, the door to your bedroom slams open.
“Get up. We need to talk.”
Ah, those glorious words no one ever wants to hear. Especially not delivered to you from your father of all people.
Till Leland was a rising star in the world of politics. Hailing from Northern Virginia, Till was destined from public service from the very beginning. His father, a well-known lawyer taught him the importance of argumentation skills and logic. His mother was a 11th grade environmental science teacher known for her work in the community establishing parks, teaching her students oyster shell recycling, and creating a community garden for all those who may need access to fresh fruits and vegetables. To say Till was raised by the best people put on this Earth, would be a huge understatement. Your grandparents are truly, the most incredible human beings around. Passionate about education, well-known philanthropists, and outspoken activists. More importantly, they were loving and devoted parents.
They truly raised an amazing child. Till Leland was everything they were and more. Growing up he was a constant straight A student who stayed after class to help tutor other students in math and science. He loved the environment and would often spend weekends organizing groups to help collect litter on the school campus. One spring break to Virginia Beach, Till spent a full day walking the coastline collecting empty beer cans and half smoked joints and cigarettes. He was always the designated driver, never got in trouble with his teachers, and was active in the school debate team. When it was time for him to choose a college, despite the credentials to get into any Ivy League he could, he chose Virginia Tech. He loved Virginia. Even with all its flaws, he just saw it as an opportunity for him to be the one to fix them. So, he studied political science, got a his master’s, ran for city council got elected. Slowly but surely, he worked his way up to the Senate level. He has done so much good for the state. And the people love him. The only thing that could possibly destroy his political career, is unfortunately the thing he loves most, and the one thing he can’t control.
You.
And yet, even though you had this penchant for living the opposite life your father pursued, he was still an incredible, kind, and loving father.
There was not a single event he ever missed of yours, even with his busy schedule as a politician. He attended every ballet recital, every chorus concert, even the tennis games where you were mostly the ball girl. He wanted to see you shine, and he supported you in every role you took on. To this day, he has a box in his office full of shitty art projects, report cards, and handmade birthday cards you gifted him. He takes his role as a father seriously, and you are truly the light of his life. And honestly, you have a shitty way of showing it, that sentiment is mutual.
“Dad, I want nothing more than to get up, but I feel like I’ve been beat with a hammer. I think I’ll just stay here.” Your voice is muffled by the pillow, you still refuse to even lift your head.
“Honey… I really need you to get up”
Oh shit.
You can’t explain it to anyone but yourself… but his tone is off.
He’s mad. He’s just short of a boil, he is simmering. He is one wrong move from blowing up. You start trying to replay the past 24 hours in your head. What happened? Why is he so pissed?
Try as you may, you can’t remember a goddamn thing.
How did you even get home? You can tell your still in the dress you went out in last night. Kicking your legs around, you eventually hit the absurdly high heels you went out in that must’ve slipped off in the middle of the night… in your bed. Great. And based on the smudged eyeliner and red lipstick on your white silk pillowcase… You came home and immediately collapsed in bed.
“I’m not repeating myself. Get. Up.”
You don’t think you’ve ever heard him this mad. Alrighty, you guess now is the time to face the music.
You sit up and see your dad. His face a cracking mask of neutrality, you can see that simmer rapidly approaching a boil. He’s already dressed in a crisp white dress shirt with a blue tie perfectly tied around his neck, his beige pants are steamed so well they barely even look real. And here you are… looking like an extra in an early Ke$ha music video.
You’re doing your best for your eyes to adjust, but honestly the room is spinning way too fast, and your focus is divided between not throwing up on yourself and listening to whatever nuclear bomb your dad is about to drop on you.
“What’s up, doc?” are… are your words still slurring? You had tried to crack a joke to lighten the very tense mood that is only getting worse and worse in your room… but all that had done was show your dad just how fucked up you really are.
“Honey. Get dressed. Come downstairs. We need to talk.” He turns to leave. No joking, no nonsense, no arguments.
“Dad, I want nothing more than to join you downstairs… but if I move, even an inch right now, I guarantee you I’m going to vomit all over these new sheets. And I don’t know about you, but I really don’t want to make Ann clean that up.” Its true. The maid is a lovely woman who has put up with your shenanigans long enough.
“Fine. We’ll talk up here. Embarrass yourself, honestly at this point I don’t give a shit.” He turns quickly on his heels, and before you can even consider changing your mind, he’s yelling down the staircase. “Mr. York, come join us up here. You can get an early firsthand experience on what I mean.”
What? What is that even supposed to mean? Who the fuck is Mr. York, what in the world has your dad so fucking pissed, firsthand experience of what, and again, who the fuck is Mr. York?
You’re going through all these questions and possible answers in your head, making you even dizzier than you were before. The room is spinning faster and faster, your stomach starts to churn, you get that familiar taste in the back of your throat, and of course, right as the mysterious Mr. York is entering your room you’re lunging for the trashcan conveniently placed by your bed and vomiting.
Tequila. Its always tequila.
“Fuck… I’m sorry. I’m just so sorry.” You start crying like a child. Throwing up always does this to you. It’s disgusting, and it’s embarrassing even when you’re on your own, let alone with an audience of your father and some random man standing in your room… offering you a handkerchief?
You, once again, refuse to even look up. Choosing to keep your head shoved in the trashcan, but out in the peripherals of your vision, you see a hand, reaching out your direction, holding a white piece of cloth. “D.Y” embroidered on the corner”
“No, I can’t take that.. It’ll get ruined.” You sound fucking pathetic. Slurred words made even worse by the tears.
“Miss, just take it.”
Woah.
If you weren’t so far gone, his voice alone probably could’ve sobered you up in an instant. It was beautiful. Deep, smooth, yet with a slight rasp that was just so… sexy.
With trembling hands, you reached out, taking the handkerchief, you swear, at one point your fingers touch his, you swear, or maybe, its just wishful thinking. Nonetheless, you finally get a look at this Mr. York.
You’re not sure what you expected, but Lord knows its not what you got.
Oh no.
He’s hot.
He is composed, perfectly dressed in a suit, now only missing a pocket square. His expression is hardened, bordering on annoyed, but still, you somehow still think he looks soft. It’s the eyes… it’s got to be those perfect, brown eyes. He’s just… perfect?
As if you weren’t embarrassed enough.
Here is this man, the image of calm, put together, and devastatingly handsome, and here you are, laying in bed, still drunk, throwing up in a trashcan.
Definitely not your best moment.
You sit there, for who knows how long, staring at Mr. York. While he returns to his initial spot by the door, and then begins staring at the wall behind you as if you don’t even exist.
“Sweetheart… are you okay?”
Oh, right. Your dad is in the room with you.
Before you can even begin to form some way to avoid saying “Yeah, dad, I’m fine. Just still fucked up from my night out last night that I barely remember, and while dealing with the most horrible hangover I’ve had in years my dad bursts into my room pissed off at me for reasons I don’t even know, before he calls in the most attractive man I’ve seen in my entire fucking life right before I ruin any chance I may have had with him by vomiting into a trashcan right in front of him” or, you know, something along those lines, Mr. York saves your ass for you.
“Maybe it may be a good idea for Miss Leland to take a moment to clean herself up before we discuss more serious matters?”
God, there is a lot you’d like to discuss with this man.
“That would be an incredible idea, Mr. York,” your dad is beaming at the man like he just solved world hunger, he turns to you and that grin falls immediately, “You. Shower. Sober up. Come downstairs. This is serious.”
“Sir, yes, sir.”
#Dave York#dave york x reader#dave york x afab reader#bodyguard!AU#Pedro Pascal#dave york fic#dave york fanfic#dave york fanfiction#enemies to lovers#dave york smut#dave york fluff#slow burn#The Equalizer 2#pedro pascal fandom#pedro pascal fanfiction#my work#my writing
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You are the most petulant, arrogant, insufferable, sanctimonious little cunt I've ever seen. It's painfully obvious you think you're better than everyone yet you act like this soft little uwu modest christian girl that has never done anything wrong in your life. This is why everyone hates religious people. You people have no fucking self awareness and you literally look down on people while demanding endless compassion from them. If you were my mother I would have blown my god damn brains out. Cunt.
I mean this with the upmost sincerity anon,
I am so much worse than what you described.
I am a liar, idolater, murderer, full of boastful pride, and with lips of deceit.
My best works are as filthy rags.
“We have all become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous deeds are like a polluted garment. We all fade like a leaf, and our iniquities, like the wind, take us away.”
Isaiah 64:6 ESV
I have nothing of myself. I am a sinner before a holy God. I am dead in my sins.
That is why I need Christ.
“But that is not the way you learned Christ!— assuming that you have heard about him and were taught in him, as the truth is in Jesus, to put off your old self, which belongs to your former manner of life and is corrupt through deceitful desires, and to be renewed in the spirit of your minds, and to put on the new self, created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness.”
Ephesians 4:20-24 ESV
Nothing of me. All of Him.
“There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death. For God has done what the law, weakened by the flesh, could not do. By sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and for sin, he condemned sin in the flesh, in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not according to the flesh but according to the Spirit. For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on the things of the Spirit. For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace. For the mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God, for it does not submit to God’s law; indeed, it cannot. Those who are in the flesh cannot please God. You, however, are not in the flesh but in the Spirit, if in fact the Spirit of God dwells in you. Anyone who does not have the Spirit of Christ does not belong to him. But if Christ is in you, although the body is dead because of sin, the Spirit is life because of righteousness. If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit who dwells in you.”
Romans 8:1-11 ESV
To God be the Glory forever. Amen.
“So then, brothers, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh. For if you live according to the flesh you will die, but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live. For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God. For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!” The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him.”
Romans 8:12-17 ESV
Repent. Put your faith in Christ Jesus, Lord of Heaven and Earth.
For it is only in Him that we have hope, joy, or peace.
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11th October >> Mass Readings (USA)
Wednesday, Twenty Seventh Week in Ordinary Time
or
Pope Saint John XXIII.
Wednesday, Twenty Seventh Week in Ordinary Time
(Liturgical Colour: Green: A (1))
First Reading
Jonah 4:1-11
You are concerned over a plant. And should I not be concerned over Nineveh, the great city?
Jonah was greatly displeased and became angry that God did not carry out the evil he threatened against Nineveh. He prayed, “I beseech you, LORD, is not this what I said while I was still in my own country? This is why I fled at first to Tarshish. I knew that you are a gracious and merciful God, slow to anger, rich in clemency, loathe to punish. And now, LORD, please take my life from me; for it is better for me to die than to live.” But the LORD asked, “Have you reason to be angry?”
Jonah then left the city for a place to the east of it, where he built himself a hut and waited under it in the shade, to see what would happen to the city. And when the LORD God provided a gourd plant that grew up over Jonah’s head, giving shade that relieved him of any discomfort, Jonah was very happy over the plant. But the next morning at dawn God sent a worm that attacked the plant, so that it withered. And when the sun arose, God sent a burning east wind; and the sun beat upon Jonah’s head till he became faint. Then Jonah asked for death, saying, “I would be better off dead than alive.”
But God said to Jonah, “Have you reason to be angry over the plant?” “I have reason to be angry,” Jonah answered, “angry enough to die.” Then the LORD said, “You are concerned over the plant which cost you no labor and which you did not raise; it came up in one night and in one night it perished. And should I not be concerned over Nineveh, the great city, in which there are more than a hundred and twenty thousand persons who cannot distinguish their right hand from their left, not to mention the many cattle?”
The Word of the Lord
R/ Thanks be to God.
Responsorial Psalm
Psalm 86:3-4, 5-6, 9-10
R/ Lord, you are merciful and gracious.
Have mercy on me, O Lord,
for to you I call all the day.
Gladden the soul of your servant,
for to you, O Lord, I lift up my soul.
R/ Lord, you are merciful and gracious.
For you, O Lord, are good and forgiving,
abounding in kindness to all who call upon you.
Hearken, O LORD, to my prayer
and attend to the sound of my pleading.
R/ Lord, you are merciful and gracious.
All the nations you have made shall come
and worship you, O Lord,
and glorify your name.
For you are great, and you do wondrous deeds;
you alone are God.
R/ Lord, you are merciful and gracious.
Gospel Acclamation
Romans 8:15bc
Alleluia, alleluia.
You have received a spirit of adoption as sons
through which we cry: Abba! Father!
Alleluia, alleluia.
Gospel
Luke 11:1-4
Lord, teach us to pray.
Jesus was praying in a certain place, and when he had finished, one of his disciples said to him, “Lord, teach us to pray just as John taught his disciples.” He said to them, “When you pray, say:
Father, hallowed be your name,
your kingdom come.
Give us each day our daily bread
and forgive us our sins
for we ourselves forgive everyone in debt to us,
and do not subject us to the final test.”
The Gospel of the Lord
R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
----------------------------
Pope Saint John XXIII
(Liturgical Colour: White: A (1))
(Readings for the memorial)
(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Wednesday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)
First reading
Ezekiel 34:11-16
As a shepherd tends his flock so will I tend my sheep.
Thus says the Lord GOD: I myself will look after and tend my sheep. As a shepherd tends his flock when he finds himself among his scattered sheep, so will I tend my sheep. I will rescue them from every place where they were scattered when it was cloudy and dark. I will lead them out from among the peoples and gather them from the foreign lands; I will bring them back to their own country and pasture them upon the mountains of Israel in the land’s ravines and all its inhabited places. In good pastures will I pasture them, and on the mountain heights of Israel shall be their grazing ground. There they shall lie down on good grazing ground, and in rich pastures shall they be pastured on the mountains of Israel. I myself will pasture my sheep; I myself will give them rest, says the Lord GOD. The lost I will seek out, the strayed I will bring back, the injured I will bind up, the sick I will heal, but the sleek and the strong I will destroy, shepherding them rightly.
The Word of the Lord
R/ Thanks be to God.
Responsorial Psalm
Psalm 23:1-3a, 4, 5, 6
R/ The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.
The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
In verdant pastures he gives me repose;
Beside restful waters he leads me;
he refreshes my soul.
R/ The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.
Even though I walk in the dark valley
I fear no evil; for you are at my side
With your rod and your staff
that give me courage.
R/ The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.
You spread the table before me
in the sight of my foes;
You anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
R/ The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.
Only goodness and kindness follow me
all the days of my life;
And I shall dwell in the house of the LORD
for years to come.
R/ The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.
Gospel Acclamation
Matthew 23:9b, 10b
Alleluia, alleluia.
You have but one Father in heaven;
you have but one master, the Christ!
Alleluia, alleluia.
Or:
Matthew 28:19a, 20bc
Alleluia, alleluia.
Go, and teach all nations, says the Lord;
I am with you always, until the end of the world.
Alleluia, alleluia.
Or:
Mark 1:17
Alleluia, alleluia.
Come after me, says the Lord,
and I will make you fishers of men.
Alleluia, alleluia.
Or:
Luke 4:18
Alleluia, alleluia.
The Lord sent me to bring glad tidings to the poor
and to proclaim liberty to captives.
Alleluia, alleluia.
Or:
John 10:14
Alleluia, alleluia.
I am the good shepherd, says the Lord;
I know my sheep, and mine know me.
Alleluia, alleluia.
Or:
John 15:5
Alleluia, alleluia.
I am the vine, you are the branches, says the Lord:
whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit.
Alleluia, alleluia.
Or:
John 15:15b
Alleluia, alleluia.
I call you my friends, says the Lord,
for I have made known to you all that the Father has told me.
Alleluia, alleluia.
Or:
2 Corinthians 5:19
Alleluia, alleluia.
God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ,
and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation.
Alleluia, alleluia.
Gospel
John 21:15-17
Feed my lambs, feed my sheep.
After Jesus had revealed himself to his disciples and eaten breakfast with them, he said to Simon Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” Simon Peter answered him, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.” He then said to Simon Peter a second time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Simon Peter answered him, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” He said to him, “Tend my sheep.” He said to him the third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Peter was distressed that he had said to him a third time, “Do you love me?” and he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep.”
The Gospel of the Lord
R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
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Hiya!
I'm Sham, they/them, and I'm an ✨artist✨
Welcome to my b(l)og, I hope the water's nice :)
If you want tags to peruse, I have a few that might interest you!
▪︎#sham's art <- my art tag
▪︎#sweet memery <- my meme tag
▪︎#trope scope <- writing tropes that really get my brain factory gears grinding
▪︎#sham's favs <- thins it out to the things that make me giggle and live rent free in my brain, mix of both tags like a nice soup, though nowadays I tag anything as a fav... Might need a new tag-
▪︎#other's art / #friend art <- art appreciation tags :)
I also have sideblogs!
@shams-kiddies <- OC art sideblog, it's better organized than my main in terms of tags
@the-briar-brigade <- AoR sideblog dedicated to an ongoing long form Kingdom Hearts roleplay, periodically mass updates because I'm forgetful!
My ask box is always open if you ever have any questions or silly things to share!
I'm a lil DM shy when it comes to new folks, so I apologize if I never answer or respond to your questions and concerns!
Currently, I am not accepting commissions, since I have a busy work life and chronic pain (plus I don't even have a commission sheet set up, alas-), however I'm open to art trades and conditional requests if my burnout allows!
For a more competitive art trade experience during the month of July, you can find me on Artfight as ShamSpam!
That's all for surface level stuff, I'll leave some more about me and my work under the cut :)
I have no concept of a consistent social life or media presence, so I just post whatever and whenever I want to, usually mid afternoon for me because that's my time to Survive™ my day to day stressors. Whatever hits my dopamine reserves just right will probably end up here!
I am a self taught artist who only really picked up on certain techniques and styles in recent years, I have quite a few inspirations for the directions my art is going in and I actually adore how my style(s) look right now! Which is good because it's a lot of work maintaining and improving all the time-
I mostly indulge in art and writing of my OCs, and the occasional fan art here and there when I'm in a particular mood, and everything (I would hope) is made with the love in my heart for my creations, from the 6+ hours of work on a digital piece to maybe a 10 min sketch of my OCs smooching from the confines of my canvasses.
We can ignore the musician part for now, at this time I haven't really delved too deep into making my own tunes aside from some really rough drafts, but eventually I will! I am a sucker for orchestral pieces, but I need to relearn music theory-
I have a few fandoms and things I like to participate or indulge in from time to time, so if you're curious here's a list!
Music Artists:
▪︎Josh Groban
▪︎Thomas Bergersen
▪︎Celine Dion
▪︎Phil Collins
▪︎The classics from an edgy teen's childhood (Linkin Park, Evanescence, Disturbed, etc. also including Christian rock, it was unavoidable you could say-)
▪︎Ricky Montgomery
▪︎Citizen Soldier
▪︎Also classic artists from before my time (Journey, Michael Jackson, The Bee Gees, ABBA, etc.)
▪︎Very weird pickings from a variety of places, I'm honestly too tired to list most of them because I'm in and out of listening fixations like a pendulum- Usually it's a select handful of songs that don't have a tremendous impact, y'know? Aside from vibes-
Current Brainworms (fictional media):
▪︎The machinations of my own mind (my OCs <3)
▪︎Kingdom Hearts (KHUx era and, again, my OCs)
▪︎Ghostbusters
▪︎ARGs/Analog Horror
▪︎Wizard101
Things I Revisit Periodically:
▪︎Okami
▪︎Persona 5
▪︎Sonic the Hedgehog
▪︎Splatoon
▪︎Ace Attorney
▪︎Doctor Who
▪︎ABZÛ/The Pathless
▪︎FNaF
▪︎Various musicals (feel free to ask which ones!)
▪︎Lego games (currently spinning the Lego Batman trilogy in my brain like a microwave)
▪︎Celtic mythology
Misc. Items That Are Ever Present But Not Constant:
▪︎Sea creatures
▪︎Dungeons and Dragons
▪︎Frogs and turtles
▪︎Tragic love stories
▪︎The concepts of loss and love in general
▪︎Emotional catharsis as a whole tbh
▪︎Phoenixes (for some reason)
▪︎Red pandas
▪︎Moss (especially in ball form)
▪︎Religious imagery/history
▪︎Tarot cards
▪︎Vincent Van Gogh
▪︎Ravens
I have SO MANY OCs I could talk about for hours, so if you ever see one that interests you don't hesitate to send me an ask about them!!
And I think that's all for now, I'll probably add stuff on if I ever remember anything I need to add-
Anyway happy browsing!!
#sham's trash posts#reusing a flop post for an introductory pinned post#how efficient of me#anyway welcome to my blog where i ramble incoherantly and draw characters that make my brain become goo
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#Uncool 50 - the index post
This is going to be an index for #Uncool50, my very personal list of the 50 greatest singles released on the Isles Trans-Manche since 1976. It serves as something of an autobiography, albeit patchy and partial.
The challenge requires strict chronological order. My write-up requires honesty, though some names and identifying details have been changed.
For Tumblr, I'll put the songs into little groups, slight ages of my life.
Childhood
My kind of pop
Video stars
Crushes
Rock and indie
Not rock and indie
University friends
University years
The greatest year for pop music
Turn of the century
American influences
Falling in with my crowd
Say you love me
Designing a decade
Snapping back
Also: the top 500 countdown:
two and three nominations
four and five nominations
six and more nominations
Below the fold, an explanation of why I think a memory tape is the right way forward.
Almost fourteen years ago, the uncarved.org blog wrote,
It's curious how often music bloggers end up stuck in the rut of expanding their cultural capital. Yes yes, you saw it first, you know more, you have more records, you have a better analysis, you’re The Man. And always *so* tasteful.
Few find the time to write about aspects of their lives which might detract from their cred. Even the “ten records hiding at the back of your collection that no grown man should own” meme ended up being an exercise in wacky popism rather than abject embarrassment. Because we’ve already purged our collections of the really awful stuff – as part of the process of reinventing ourselves as dashing young things rather than spotty teenagers.
What has my year on the fringes of music Twitter taught me? That it's populated by angels, and we're all dancing on the tip of a very small pin. The bounds of discourse are shaped by existing cultural gatekeepers. It all works to reinforce the existing cultural boundaries, not break them down.
Music Twitter is haunted by the ghost of John Peel, it hews to the spectre of what we think we remember of his shows. Music Twitter pays homage to Peel's successors on 6 Music, picks from a surprisingly narrow definition of "alternative". It's interested in the BBC's annual "Sound of The New Year" poll, which actively rejects leftfield contributions. It's small, it's confining, it's a self-reinforcing echo chamber.
Arron Nonoxcol has set a challenge, #Uncool50. The 50 greatest singles of the post-punk/disco era. I could play this to accrete my own cultural capital, thirty-five singles from the 6 Music library, ten from Radio 2, and a handful of others just for variety and show just how "whacky" I am. Go with the flow, put in what's already popular, vote the equivalents of "Stairway to heaven" and "Boheminan rhapsody" and "Euphoria". It would help ease Arron's list-keeping, but it would be faker than a nine-bob note.
Or I could put in a list of the 50 most important singles since 1977. The songs that helped shape the future of popular music, turn it into the mega-zillions industry it is now. That leads into some very dubious places. It goes to the man who mined the album for a zillion singles, suspected kiddyfiddler Michael Jackson. The Dunblane record, bought not for musical merit but to make a political point. Crazy Frog, "Gangnam style", and the inevitable meme hits. There is an objective reason to include these tracks, and it is a project worth pursuing, I cannot honestly call them "good".
Greatness is in the eye of the beholder. It's an intensely personal thing. And so is this list. Fifty singles, all of which have a place in my heart. Some of them shaped pop history. Some of them are generally accepted as brilliant. All of them shaped me, in some small or large way. In chronological order, a memory tape. From ABBA to [wherever it ends], a story of my life.
#uncool50#this is uncool#personal#memory tape#what is cool#is this cool#cultural capital#personal honesty
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I'm currently watching the Bohemian Rhapsody film and it's got me thinking about how silly it is that this whole 70's rock aesthetic has become practically inseparable from the popular Marauders era fanon.
Like... we all know what the Marauders era looks like in a lot of fanon. Everything is kind of sepia, the Marauders wear nothing but bell-bottom jeans and t-shirts and denim and leather jackets, they rock those fluffy, shaggy 70's 'dos, light up a cigarette like every five minutes and maybe most importantly, they spend their free time listening to whatever the author's/OP's favorite popular 70's band is on a muggle record player whenever they're not busy participating in muggle protests for gay rights.
What's up with making the Marauders basically muggles in all but name only? Aside from projection? We know at least two of them were pureblood wizards, the third was a half-blood who grew up in the wizarding world (Remus had to hide being a wizard AND a werewolf – what are the chances that his parents would have allowed him to hang out with muggle children?) and the fourth was most likely either pureblood or half-blood. Point is... they all grew up in the wizarding culture, as far as we know, and whatever muggle influence Remus as a half-blood would have had from his mother would certainly not have included current fashion and popular music – those are things youth get from peers.
The boys likely wouldn't have had much contact with muggle culture until Hogwarts... but from what we know from canon, there doesn't seem to be much muggle culture in Hogwarts either. The kids from wizarding backgrounds just stick to their own things, and the muggle-borns seem to mostly adapt to the wizarding world. Also, muggle technology doesn't work in Hogwarts, so that's it for music records, movies and TV-shows being shared.
We also know from canon that the wizards as whole just aren't keen on integrating or adapting aspects of the muggle world into theirs, even if it was possible. They still write on parchment with quills and ink, FFS. Arthur Weasley was apparently the most notable connoisseur of muggle culture, yet he didn't even remember the word "telephone" correctly. While Harry's generation of wizard youth is said to dress in muggle clothes outside Hogwarts (which I assume was Rowling's way of making Harry's generation in particular more relatable to the reader), we are shown that adult/older wizards are mostly clueless about muggle clothing... to the point of old men wearing floral night dresses (no judging tho).
All I'm saying is... if the wizard society as a whole – not just the few pureblood fanatics – wasn't pretty much unreceptive of the ways of the muggle world, there's just no way they would have that medieval/victorian thing going on in the late 20th century. They would not wear robes and cloaks as everyday clothes. They would have debit cards instead of carrying gold around, they would write with mechanical pencils and they would definitely use some magic-powered version of a cell phone instead of... sending an owl or putting their head in a fireplace. Dumbledore would not be seen as the progressive icon he apparently is just because he thinks it would be evil to kick muggle-born magical people into concentration camps to be executed. IDK, the bar is pretty low.
The fact that the wizards haven't adopted many modern muggle inventions and ways of doing things even when they would be more convenient suggests that valuing tradition is something that is implicitly taught to all wizards. They either see their own ways as superior, or just don't feel compelled to change what is familiar just because something else might be more efficient or convenient. And it makes sense because isn't this how humans work a lot of the time when it comes to new, unfamiliar things, although maybe less extreme? Like, how America as a whole is still mostly averse to bidets, despite the fact that rinsing your ass with water is obviously a better way to clean up than just smearing around with a dry piece of paper? (Sorry for the shitty example.)
This is why I feel like the Marauders wouldn't be anywhere near as "muggle" as they are usually portrayed in fanon. I don't see any reason why they would be so different from Harry, Ron and Hermione – none of whom were into muggle things in canon, despite being "progressive" and despite two of them actually having been raised in the muggle world before Hogwarts. Teenagers don't tend to become invested in popular culture like fashion and music until after the age of 11, and these kids spend all but two(?) months a year at Hogwarts surrounded by wizarding culture. Since the expectation is that they stay in the wizarding world, why would they be interested in keeping up with the trends of the muggle world? I can see this being important enough for someone who is muggle-born and maintains close relationships in the muggle world, but for purebloods? No way.
Anyway, we know there are wizarding musicians (although maybe two were mentioned), wizarding games, wizarding fashion, wizarding literature, wizarding magazines, wizarding sports... so why not get creative and expand on that, instead of making everyone basically muggle? Like, it's interesting that most fic writers don't take the chance to explore the possibilities of wizarding youth culture beyond what is shown in the books. What if there was a wizarding band that had the same vibe as Queen or ABBA or the Sex Pistols or whatever band you want the Marauders to like? What if instead of everyone just smoking regular muggle cigarettes, there was some different habit that was popular with the wizard kids? Wizard drugs?
I guess people love the idea of Marauders being the definition of cool, but we forget that what is cool to us is generally stupid or insignificant to wizards, and what is cool for wizards is just... silly fairytale nonsense to us. The Marauders who wear like... high-collared Diricawl feather cloaks and smoke Purple Pixie grass or whatever through a nostril pipe while listening to some band called the Bad Goblins, or whatever whimsical things Rowling would probably come up with, just don't scream "cool guys" to us like the Marauders smoking cigs and wearing leather jackets do.
IDK, let's just be real, the canon Marauders would be scoffing at bad-tasting muggle cancer sticks, laughing at how silly muggles look in their bell-bottoms, listening to weird wizarding music... what's so wrong with that?
#the marauders#marauders fanon#marauders era#pro snape#<that one is because i know a lot of frequenters in that tag will agree with this
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Nobody asked for this, but I wrote it just because I can
Being soulmates with Leone Abbacchio
Naive is the last thing that might come to your mind when you think about Abbacchio. Life taught him hard lessons, there were times when man totally gave up on being a good and honest man. He’s never haboured false hopes, but there always was this thought fumbling in the back of his mind about meeting his special person
When he saw his soulmate for the first time Leone knew - they were the right one. Everything about S/o’s appearance was stunning: this breathtaking smile and, mostly, their deep (eyecolor) eyes
The more Leone gets to know his soulmate, the more he falls for them. S/o are perfect at everything, and mostly - they are perfect for him. With every new day Abbacchio’s feelings grow bigger and stronger, and, honestly, it really frightens him
At first blonde tries to isolate himself from S/o before his feelings started to grow even stronger. But, of course, he fails. Nature created them two for each other, Abbacchio can’t resist himself and his desire to be with his soulmate
It takes a lot of time and affords from both Abba and his soulmate to make man open up for S/o. Blonde understands that they were literally made for each other, but he can’t just start trusting someone that easily. Mafioso will fully feel himself comfortable and secure around S/o after years of being in relationships with them
Leone wouldn’t be himself without self-loathing thoughts. He often wonders why the hell someone as precious as S/o would want to be with someone as him? Why do they reciprocate his feelings? Do they find their bond as important as Abbacchio does? Do S/o think about him 24/7 too? All those thoughts bounce around blonde’s head and heavily lay on his shoulders. It doesn’t matter how often S/o reassure man in their love for him, Leone still doubts himself and his importance to them
Abbacchio would kill for his soulmate. No joke. If S/o were in danger he wouldn’t hesitate for a second to injure or even take somebody’s life away
Leone is not a fan of PDA, the maximum he’s willing to do in public is holding hands with S/o. But in private situation is completely different, when Abba is sure that nobody but soulmate sees him blonde becomes all lovey-dovey, clinging on his beloved and craving for affection
Leone is like a big plushy bear with S/o, they can do whatever they want to him (not that he’s against it though). Abba is tightly wrapped around soulmate’s pinky and is ready to fulfill their every smallest whim
S/o are compelled to wear clothes with high collar or use huge amounts of concealer because of Leone. Blonde loves to see his soulmate wearing his marks and always leaves a few here and there
Blonde prefers indoor dates, every activity brings him way more pleasure when is done in private. Abba is very good at cooking so he enjoys making something tasty together with soulmate. Self care nights are also his favorites, what can be better than skincare, manicure and hairstyling?
Movie nights with Abba are the worst things ever. Blonde’s only willing to watch horrors with lots of blood and screamers, and if S/o decided to put on some romantic story or comedy Leone won’t stop grumbling about how horrible actor’s play is or that the plot is really tedious and stupid
Abba loves getting attention from his beloved, and the feeling of being genuinely loved deeply strokes his ego. Sometimes Leone enjoys being a “little king” with S/o pleasing and fussing over him
Despite his cool and indifferent appearance, Leone’s inner world turns upside down just from the one look in soulmate’s eyes. Their touches send him goosebumps all over his skin, and when Abbacchio kisses S/o his guts twirl into tight knots. Blonde is so head over heels for his beloved, they’re bonded together forever, and Leone is ready to go through hell if it means that he’ll end up with his soulmate at the end
Masterlist | Smut Masterlist
#leone abbacchio#leone abbacchio headcanons#abbacchio#abbacchio haedcanons#jojo’s bizarre adventure#jojo headcanons#vento aureo#vento aureo headcanons#jojo part 5#jojo#jjba#jjba headcanons#jojo soulmate au#jjba soulmate au#bucci team#bucci gang#soulmate#soulmate au#leone abbacchio x reader#abbacchio x reader#jojo x reader#jjba x reader
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Hey there again! I really like your scenarios! and i have a request
What about the countries with an introverted, musician/ mussically cultured s/o?
2ps with an introverted musician s/o!
Throwing a 1p in here real quick because Roderich would be all over you just saying
Allen: Surprisingly, he loves dating introverts as much as extroverts! He pleas to combine something 'epic' with something 'boring' (his words not mine), such as breaking into a vinyl record shop at night. pure of heart, dumb of ass, as they say.
Matt: Plays campfire songs with his guitar for you, hoping he impresses you. Acts lowkey, but he thinks you're so awesome. Name a Canadian artist other than Justin Bieber and he'll be so happy.
Francois: "Can you play Traditionell Musette?" (if you actually do it he'll cry)
Oliver: He thinks you're so cool!! England has a history very rooted in music, so he'd love to talk with you about it! You may even be able to get him back into his pastel punk phase from the 80s 😳Ambient and classical music also calm him down when he's anxious
Viktor: I mean he's really the same so
Xiao: "DO YOU KNOW YI JIAN MEI?" He's actually a really good singer, and is totally down for singing with you!
Luciano: "As long as you don't bass boost everything, I'm fine." He used to live with Roland and has pseudo trauma towards rock music because of that gremlin of a man
Flavio: "This will be great for my brand! How fast can we produce a hit single under my name? It needs to be flashy and extravagant. Don't worry, you can stay on the sidelines where no one can see you in the music video shoot."
Lutz: German music is SO GOOD, bro, he's going to introduce you to Von Wegen Lisbeth, Hund am Strand, and Dota Kehr IMMEDIATELY
Kuro: Begs you to teach him western songs because he can't stand hearing another beat of j-pop
Gillen: Wants you to teach him flute, because asking Gilbert for help was useless; they both ended up crying over Fritz whenever they tried to practice.
Roland: Kind of a douche at first because he thinks he's high and mighty in his guitar skills, but he swallows his pride and asks you to teach him piano (to fuck with Roderich OF COURSE)
Andres: Shyly wants to tango and slow dance with you to different songs <3
Egil: "That's adorable! What's your favorite song? Or songs?" He lets you open up and talk for hours about your skills and interests on the musical subject.
Loki: Takes your hand and leads you to the music room of the Nordic mansion. Pianos, percussion, brass, strings, you name it! They even have instruments from ANCIENT times stored in there.
Magnus: Is mainly interested in you working with the ancient aforementioned instruments. Will help you restore them and then teach you how they were played
Bernard: Is currently banging on Roderich's door boasting about how you're a better musician than him. Their accents arguing makes it funnier.
"Can you sing ABBA?"
Thurston: Doesn't think much of it, just sees it as your interest. Will secretly listen to your singing/playing from out of sight; just leans against the wall and smiles.
Hermes: "Have you ever heard of bardcore?" Then probably spouts on about how "music brings people's souls together.." "music is the key to happiness..."
Franciszek: Hums songs you recommend him as he goes about his day
Anastasia: Listens to everything you have to say about your interest in music! She will do ballroom dances to songs you play
Katya: Asks you to make her a bunch of playlists, of course
Egor: "Can you make EDM?"
Raimonds: He knows how to play the bells, and would be interested in being taught the drums
Leonas: He actually sings country-type music in his free time! He'll get you guys a gig at a honky tonk and do a duet with you for the crowd!
Romeo: Tiktok dances, i'm so sorry
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Point Of Giving Up
“Brothers and sisters, you need to know about the severe trials we experienced… All of the hardships we passed through crushed us beyond our ability to endure, and we were so completely overwhelmed that we were about to give up entirely. It felt like we had a death sentence written upon our hearts, and we still feel it to this day. It has taught us to lose all faith in ourselves and to place all of our trust in the God who raises the dead. He has rescued us from terrifying encounters with death. And now we fasten our hopes on Him to continue to deliver us from death yet again,” 2Corinthians 1:8-10TPT
Historians and Commentators can only guess what occurred in Paul’s life, which overwhelmed him to feel at the point of death. They agree, on the fact, the Corinthians had been aware of the occurrence. Beyond that is speculation— a severe bodily illness; perhaps the rioting at Ephesus which forced him to flee for his life to Macedonia, (Acts 19). My thoughts went to Acts 14, when they stoned Paul.
Have you ever said, ‘I thought it would kill me?’ There’s been many instances where I thought something would ‘kill me.’ I’ve voiced those words. Physically, I’ve floated down the tunnel of death to the most glorious Light and peace in a near death experience. Through Mom’s intercession, I lived.
Heartaches, finances, personal illness, Dad’s two almost-death experiences, family’s rebellions, children’s drugs, auto accidents all brought me to despair. Being totally overwhelmed more times than people can believe. During those storms I stayed in front of God in prayer. There was no other way for me to be able to endure. When a beloved relative turned on me, I hit bottom. Pain in that hole convinced me, it would kill me. For over two years, I couldn’t sleep over three hours before arising and returning to God about the situation. He brought us all through, restored relationships and gave us a future together. Praise His name forever.
The future is going to be rough and glorious. Matthew 24 promises persecution. Do you thrive on persecution? I don’t. Bill Gates and the Cabal want to kill off six billion, and tag the rest of us like dogs— aka mark of the beast. The Democrats are doing their best to:
— remove our personal freedoms
— tank the economy and escalate inflation
— take away of our personal weapons and ammo
all this since they got rid of Trump, etc.
Meanwhile, God promises us good. see Haggai 2:6-9,
Proverbs 13:22TPT “… but the wealth of the wicked is treasured up for the righteous.”
Psalm 23:1ESV “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.”
Matthew 24:22ESV “And if those days had not been cut short, no human being would be saved. But for the sake of the elect those days will be cut short.”
Psalm 55:22ESV “Cast your burden on the LORD, and He will sustain you; He will never permit the righteous to be moved.”
Hebrews 13:5CEV “Don’t fall in love with money. Be satisfied with what you have. The Lord has promised that He will not leave us or desert us.”
Isaiah 26:3NT “You will keep in perfect peace all who trust in You, all whose thoughts are fixed on You!”
Bottom line: Every single time, I was overwhelmed to the point of giving up, God stepped in…… Otherwise, I know I wouldn’t be here. When I came to my end, Jesus carried me through to a better end.
Really serious heartaches and troubles bring us to the place of decisions. Will we trust? Have we learned this truth— HE IS ENOUGH? Hopefully, you’ll decide without the difficulties. It’s your choice. You choose.
PRAYER: Abba Father, thank You for being enough. Help us to stand in this truth You are enough in the rough seas ahead, in the name Jesus Christ I pray.
by Debbie Veilleux
Copyright 2022 You have my permission to reblog this devotional for others. Please keep my name with this devotional, as author. Thank you.
#Jesus Christ#lord of lords#Word of God#Holy Spirit#God#it's your choice#devotional#give up#point#overwhelmed#despair of life#let go#trust#love#hope#faith
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