#and a bunch of other shit

[doctorwhoisadhd]

also i think there should be a fat companion. because theres never been one

[heyyy-its-kayyy]

Friends, fiends, and fuckers (come one, come all or whatever—),

My writing buddy is currently unable to really write and I’ve found myself sad and bored. Would anyone like to discuss ships, or prompts, or headcannons? I’m open to ideas.

[voidzphere]

i desperately need to update my intro that mf is NOT my sona who the hell 😭🙏🙏🙏

[actual-corpse]

I love this stupidhead

[its-always-3am-somewhere]

Some Vox stuff

[invisiblyvisiblejay]

i am not doing well i was doing soo well and then i had to go home for spring break and it fucked me over and now i have literally zero motivation to do anything whatsoever and i feel like shit lmao

[benevolent-blackhole]

My least favorite thing as a TA is when I work with professors who have like, secret syllabi. Like oh, if a student asks, of course they can have an extension for any reason, including just not feeling like it, even though my syllabus says it’s only for emergencies. Or similar for absences or whatever.

Every time I point to research that shows that white people, upper class kids, and boys are far more likely to know to ask, I get lectured at about how this way students will learn to “advocate for themselves” but how!!! (Also it’s not just identity-related, it’s also just like, authoritarian vs. permissive parenting)

People who already learn to ask just keep getting validated and people who don’t continue to not know other people do ask. The only way to fix this is to PUT IT EXPLICITLY IN THE SYLLABUS

[thescarletenchantress]

Hi 😄

[yellowfishpee]

what is it about english or theatre professors and never warning their students about disturbing themes in THEIR assignments

[egophiliac]

(looks at upcoming card releases)

I'm in danger :)

[galaxymagick]

is jaehwan doing a school boy or a sugar pop cam boy concept for his concert ?? or both.. I don’t know how to feel about that ..🫤

[the-cactus-taco]

I will forever love the idea of them being nerd ass boyfriends

Also, a little edit of errors reference which I did while listening to this Metaroom song:

HE’S AN ANGEL TO ME DAMMIT!!

[bbbbbbbbatman]

When Bruce is feeling petty he'll arrange an interview with the Daily Planet and specifically request Clark, then spend the entire interview in character as Brucie, refusing to break no matter how many times Clark tells him to knock it off, and then Clark has to write an article on whatever inane topic Bruce could come up with.

[wandanvision]

cant believe im back at tumblr doing this BUT i need new friends and profiles to follow so pls if your blog is doctor who, marvel, muses/aesthetics, pls react and ill follow

[hazmatmaid]

My dad made this latch hook Mona Spamton for me.

He now watches me while I sleep.

[bcyhoods]

TO BE SAFE. EDDIE MUNSON

synopsis: you ask to sleep over at eddie’s for the first time, and he undoubtedly is head over heels for you

word count: 1.2k

authors notes: somebody requested this before i started my blog over! if this finds u, im sending you a cookie and a kiss, as promised x

warnings: fem!reader, use of gendered pet names (princess, pretty girl), dialogue is…….cheesy cringe a little😔, clueless eddie, kissing !!!

“Goddamit.”

Eddie hisses beside you at the jumpscare on screen. It was the quietest sound, drowned underneath the blood-curdling screams in the film. It probably would’ve gone completely unnoticed. Unluckily for him, it didn’t. Luckily for you, your legs were draped over his lap, so the mechanical jolt of fright sent your own legs jumping into the air.

His head is thrown against the back of his couch as he slaps his free hand over his eyes. You giggle as you watch his skin flush scarlet underneath your stare.

“Eddie, it’s okay,” you coo, voice shaky in between your laughter.

The embarrassment doesn’t quite subside, but the sound of your infectious giggle and the feeling of you moving into his lap to pry away his fingers is enough to have his chest rumbling with mirrored joy. He gazes up at you as you hold his hands.

“You scared, Eds?”

You don’t mean for it to sound like you’re teasing, but he laughs anyway. With a grin, he shakes his head wildly and clasps his hands around your back.

“Nope, I’ve got a princess to protect me.”

He pushes you down into the couch so that he’s hovering above you, and you respond with a squeal. Your legs are locked around his waist as his hands dig into the plush of the cushion beside your head. He leans down with a proud smile to press a kiss to your mouth.

The kisses are sloppy. He litters your face and neck in open-mouthed love bites, none hard enough to leave any mark. When he reaches your lips, it’s more smiles and spit than any real kiss, but neither of you seem to mind. Not when the smell of his citrusy shampoo wraps around your figure to make you dizzy. Not when your hands roam along his biceps and up to the nape of his neck like you’re the only thing keeping him from floating away.

It’s a mess of hushed teasing and giggles and clashing teeth, and it’s perfect.

As he pushes himself up for a moment of air, he looks off to the side before releasing a displeased sigh. “Shit, it’s getting late,” he observes solemnly.

He sits back on his heels, just far away enough for you to hold yourself up. You follow his line of sight and find that the digital clock on the shelf reads 11:15. Your shoulders deflate and your heart sinks.

“It is kinda late, isn’t it?”

Once you turn back to him, his eyes are stuck on you. Gorgeous, dilated pupils run across the high points of your cheekbones and back down to your lips. His gaze commands a rush of heat to caress your skin until your insides are set ablaze and your mouth is painfully dry.

The utter lack of urgency may as well have been a weighted blanket.

One of his arms snakes around your waist to pull you into him further. He leans forward, tilting his head ever-so-slightly to catch your lips.

This one is less playful than the ones you shared just seconds before. His movements are languid, purposeful. Like all the air had been stolen from his lungs and you were oxygen.

Your elbows threaten to buckle underneath your weight. Though, you’d happily sink back into the couch cushions and let them swallow you whole, if it meant you got to kiss him all night. And he’d just as eagerly take up the opportunity to have you underneath him for as long as he could entertain.

But he’s pulling away. Your foreheads rest together as you wear matching expressions of bliss: eyes closed, and slick, kiss-bitten lips parted. His thumb sinks underneath the hem of your shirt to dance across your skin. Another weighted blanket.

“I’ll drive ya,” he whispers reluctantly.

You watch as Eddie stands to stretch, and the warmth follows. A pensive wrinkle makes home between his brows as he slowly moves to grab his jacket. This, along with the nagging feeling in your chest, was routine whenever you spent the day at his place.

It’s not that he hasn’t offered for you to spend the night before, because he’s suggested it quite a few times. It was just so scary. The nerves bubble and spill over and it’s just all a mess inside your head whenever you want to ask.

Today is something different, though. All that occupies your mind is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie and suddenly, you think it’d be impossible to spend the night without him.

“Really? You’re not tired?” The questions run off your tongue without a second thought.

“Well, I’m wide awake now,” he jests, running the metal of his rings over his bottom lip. He pats the pockets of his jacket for his keys, and when he comes up empty, he searches the kitchen counter.

The fear creeps back into your head as you watch him rifle through drawers. It makes you shrink in on yourself as you trudge over to your shoes that lay haphazardly by the door.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to drive if you’re tired,” you ask softer.

Noticing a change in your demeanor, he looks up at you to see your teeth worrying at your lower lip. “I’m sure,” he insists sweetly, “Can’t let my pretty girl drive alone in the dark.”

He finally finds his keys and moves over to where his own pair of shoes rested beside yours. He sends you an easy grin and it makes it all the harder to swallow down your anxieties.

“It’s foggy out,” you mention faintly. You don’t know what the weather is like outside. It was merely you grasping at straws to freeze him in his motion. You’re sure it’s blatantly obvious at this point, expecting a light tease from the wavy-haired boy.

But oblivious as he is, Eddie peeks out the blinds anyway to scan the trailer park. He hums. It’s a little gloomy, but hardly anything to worry about. Just as he’s about to reassure you again, he pauses when he spots your fingers fidgeting with a loose seam in your sleeve. You’re staring down at your shoes — which you’ve purposely done a poor job of putting on, as they’re only halfway on your feet — with your tongue bitten between your teeth.

“Maybe…” you pause to take a deep inhale. “It’s probably better if I stay? If that's okay with you, I mean.”

Then, does Eddie freeze. And he feels like an absolute fool.

He feels like an absolute fool for being the one to get up first. For not getting the totally conspicuous hints you’ve been trying to give him for the past minute and a half. For being so focused on trying to find his damn keys that he hoped he’d lost in the first place. And for standing in shocked silence for so long that you’ve begun to frown and properly shove your ankles inside your shoes.

“Yeah,” he replies abruptly, reaching out for your arm.

“Yeah?” The hopeful rise in your inflection makes him gently squeeze your elbow.

“Yeah, of course you can stay. I want you to.”

You nod. You duck your chin to your chest to hide the shy smile on your lips, but to no avail. Eddie can spot your bright grin from a mile away and makes him go weak in the knees with a blush that he’s sure is making its way to his cheeks.

“Just to be safe, ya know,” you add before toeing off your shoes and pushing them closer to the wall.

“Right. To be safe.”