#simple story

[nela-movies]

You whispered wait for me

Be true my love's for you

The mystery the calls the letters

Saving it all for you

The seasons changed

Your voice still sounds the same

It's June again

I've learnt to hide the pain

[solanavakarian]

Just saw The Creator and I 🥺

[crypticoctoberdays]

Day 14: Girl’s Night.

Days roll by and soon they become weeks. Weeks become years. Years become decades. Time is ever turning. You never realize how much you need your best friends until they are gone. You can make more but honestly who has time for that anymore? Even then sometimes I feel alone even with my friends. Tonight was one of those nights. The nights were an escape is deathly impossible to grasp. I went out to get some air. My friends said it would be fun. It wasn’t. You see my friends started to grow closer over the years. Closer than I was to them. I think they fell in love and got afraid to tell me but I also question myself. It’s been me, Franny, and Dollia for as long as we could remember. We went to high school together. Walked home from school together. Even did homework together. Then came graduation. We all split. Nothing too unseen. It’s normal for friends to separate. Now however, it seems almost as if Dollia and Franny has formed a secret friendship. A deeper one. The two of them planned this get together and they dragged me out of work. They said that I should get out more and I caved. Normally I’m high strong however today was different. It isn’t often where friends unite from high school or anything. However now that I’m older I notice things. Maybe they were always like this before but…The way Dollia laughs as Franny playfully shoves her or the way Franny holds on to Dollia’s arm any time she gets. It makes my blood boil. I don’t understand why it bothers me so much. This is a girl’s night after all. This was supposed to be fun. Maybe I’m just over thinking it…As the night becomes later we drink more, think less, talk a lot. We talk about the things that used to be. The stupid girls, the stupid boys, the stupid people, stupid school, stupid work. Everything under the sun. As we speak I realize even if I feel out of place, my friends are there. It doesn’t matter if they are in love or if they are not. I still matter. I am not replaceable. We all are one of a kind.

[the-ow]

★ ig story

(⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀) : invisible text

태형

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[justynaandrzejewska]

capbreton

[squarecloud73]

*I worship you Tumblr please don’t remove it

Let's take off the jealousy, erase the rotten beneath, so we can polish this story, so pretty and clean.

[adilynnyuri]

REAL SHIT⭐

[crossaik]

watched all the movies recently

[somethingaboutmint]

My biggest plothole hangup with fallout 4 is kellog and how shitty he was done so the theory i propose: they should have just made kellog a synth lol? Like think about it:

1.) Eliminates the factor of "how the fuck did kellog live so long and not age?". Ingame shaun basically goes "institute technology we retired cuz (bullshit reason)" which is so dumb cuz its technology THAT STOPS YOU FROM AGING. But if it wasnt a real kellog but a synth recreation it would be like a cool "ooooh shit" twist moment as soon as you pick up the synth piece. Like thats not the real kellog they just made him again. Cloned him if you will.

2.) Good way to introduce the synths into the story. Theres so many places you'll see them beforehand but having kellog be the big "oh shit" moment for those who just speed through the plot would have rocked.

3.) The inherent tragedy of it. Idk i cant relate to kellog ingame cuz the memories quest utterly fails for me. Oh wow he lost his wife and child hes just like me fr- like fuck OFFFFF that happened to me too and i didnt go around killing innocent people. BOZO. But if he was a synth its a realization of like. This guy didnt do that. This is someone who fully believed he did and shared those memories but its like he didnt do it. Hes a victim of the institute just as much as you are. He legit doesnt know better. The implication of "if he found out he was a synth of a person long dead and his memories weren't real could he have gotten better" will always hang over your head.

4.) Paints institute in a more evil fucked up light . Asking shaun "what do you MEAN you recreated the guy that kidnapped you and brutally killed your other parent." And shaun just goes "well he was a good agent idk i admire the usefulness." Its like that collateral damage line but goes hard. Even better if he truly doesnt get why you're mad about it and at some point you see kellog again im the institute and are like WTF and shauns like oh we just made him again. If it makes you feel better you could kill him again too. We can make as many as you want. Like would that not be metal but also kinda horrifying

[ghost-proofbaby]

a simple life (e.m.)

summary: you try to clean your depression room while eddie's over, but he keeps distracting you.

warnings: none except mentions of a dirty room and panties. also... a lot of nicknames. womp womp. not edited.

pairing: eddie munson x gn!reader

wc: 1.4k+

a/n: just a little sweet something i wrote thinkin' about eddie while i took on the task of finally cleaning my depression room after a few months of putting it off. idk. this is boring. i'm sorry.

“Where did you even get this postcard?”

“Eddie.”

“Or what about this choker? Is that a bat? It’s a- oh my God, babe. Why don’t you ever wear this? This is hot.”

Originally, you had thought it was a good idea. Invite Eddie over, allow the body-doubling tactic to work its magic, and voila – you’d finally have the clean room you’d been talking about achieving for weeks now, within a few hours. 

“Baby,” you scold, trying to reach across the bed to snatch the necklace he’d found out of his hands. It proves to be difficult, a small pile of laundry you’d been folding hindering you. 

“Sweetheart,” he mimics right back, quick to hold the necklace out of your reach, as if you were anyone near from stealing it back from him. 

“I asked you to come over to help me, not distract me,” you sigh, crossing your arms and trying to look as pitiful as possible. When you’d first invited him over, you’d assured him that he needn’t lift a single finger. You didn’t want him here to help by aiding in throwing away any of the trash that had begun to litter your desk or taking any dirty plates to the kitchen. No, the intention had been him helping with his mere presence – quiet presence. He was supposed to be working on a new campaign for Hellfire, not being so damn nosey and going through the few items you’d tossed onto the bed from the floor, “I just recently bought that necklace, I haven’t had a chance to wear it.”

His eyes light up mischievously, a small grin tugging at his lips, “Why not wear it now, then? Perfect opportunity, yeah?” 

“I’m not fulfilling any slutty maid fantasies you have, Eddie.” 

“What if I say please?” 

You huff and decide to give up the fight about the necklace, returning back to the laundry before you. You were almost done. You were almost done after a full day of cleaning. If your adorably curious boyfriend would just stop picking at your belongings, you’d probably be able to finish within the hour. 

He stands from the small space on your bed he had made for himself, a nest of sorts that he had taken from simply curling up into for a ‘nap’ (which never happened’ to sitting up as he had just been as he clearly grew more bored with each passing moment. “Want some help with folding?” 

“You just want an excuse to get your grubby hands on my underwear,” you grumble, folding a shirt with slightly more vigor to emphasize your point.

You’re right, of course. The first article of clothing he grabs is a pair of lacy black panties. 

“Guilty,” he coos jokingly, but to your surprise, he actually folds the lingerie. Neatly, at that. With careful hands, he folds it even nicer than you would have in your haste, going as far as walking to your dresser and putting it away into the correct drawer. And then, he takes it a step further, and begins to put away the other clothing you’d already neatly wrapped up, suddenly depleting the mountain of laundry by half, “You know, I don’t mind helping you clean.”

“I already told you, you’re helping by bein-” you start to protest, hands grabbing at a random jean leg but not quite yanking it from the pile. 

He’s quick to interrupt you, taking that pair of jeans right from you, “I don’t want to just lay there while you do all the work, contrary to all the sources that say men enjoy that.”

His face isn’t quite as taunting as it had been moments before. Some of the joking has vanished, replaced by something more serious yet somehow softer. The jeans are slung over his arms, neatly halved twice before he sets them to the side and looks at you. 

Your shame is palpable, though. You’d just gotten over the embarrassment of having him over when your room would get this filthy. Disastrous in the worst of ways. Dirty clothes strewn everywhere, plates left for days on any surface you could find in your laziness, coke cans and random trash littering the floor. It was embarrassing. You know he had promised to love you through the good and the ugly, but this was far uglier than he could have ever imagined signing up for. 

It was bad enough to have him see it, let alone clean it. 

“It’s embarrassing,” you finally say quietly. His head tilts, so adorable it tugs at all your heart strings, and you take it as your queue to continue in a near whisper, “It’s gross - I’m gross.” 

“Sweetheart, have you even seen my room?” he scoffs. He’s quick to shove some of the clean clothes up into a pile just enough that he can take a seat at the corner of your bed, quickly reaching out to grab your hands and guide you between his spread legs, “Shit happens. Life gets stressful, work gets busy, sometimes we just don’t feel like cleaning up. Shit happens,” his thumb is sweeping soothingly over your knuckles, clearing the impending storm you hadn’t even been aware of. Maybe he hadn’t either – a naturally caring and comforting aura has always been his thing rather than yours, “Out of everyone in this world, I am the least qualified to judge you.” 

You don’t really understand it. How he can sit there, looking up at you so dreamily when the two of you are situated in the middle of your still unkempt room, your neck still chilled with a layer of sweat and your hair tumbling out of the bun you hadn’t properly secured. But he is. He’s looking at you not as if he doesn’t see the mess, both of the room and of yourself, but as if he does and simply doesn’t care. 

“Besides,” his lips are splitting with another grin, his hands squeezing your hands three times, “It’s kind of domestic. ‘M kind of into it.” 

“Me? Doing laundry?” you snort, blinking away any fears that had crept up. It’s hard to feel inadequate with his eyes on you, spilling so many sweet nothings like it’s just another casual Tuesday conversation and not the fuel to your beating heart, “Didn’t you just say you don’t want to just sit and-”

“Us,” he cuts you off in correction, “Us doing laundry.”

“You… like the thought of doing laundry with me?” you say slowly, carefully, unsure of the words as they fall from your lips. 

Doing laundry sounded like the least romantic thing the two of you could ever partake in. 

“I like the thought of doing laundry with you,” he repeats with a nod, “I like the thought of doing laundry with you, of doing dishes together after we just made the world's most mediocre dinner ever, of you complaining when I won’t get up so you can make the bed on the weekend,” he tugs you even closer. You have no choice but to let a knee fall to each side of his hips, straddling his lap as he wraps his arms around you and he leans forward to press a chaste kiss to one of your collar bones, “Call me cheesy. I like the thought of a simple life, but only if it’s with you.” 

Something warms inside of you. The thought of a life of simplicity, of lazy mornings and boring afternoons, all brightened up by the boy in front of you. A boy who creates magical worlds with his words on a weekly basis, a boy obsessed with fantasy novels and all things adventurous, who wants his greatest life adventure to just be a mundane lifetime with you. 

You can imagine it would be anything but mundane with Eddie, but the tranquility still exists and blankets the two of you. 

You lift a hand, carding it through his scalp, careful not to let your fingers snag on his messy curls, “Does this mean you’ll do your taxes with me next week?” 

With a quick snort, he buries his face into your chest, shaking his head furiously, “Don’t push it, sweetheart.” 

You know he will, though. He’ll help you fold the laundry, he’ll help you wash the dishes, and he’ll certainly sit through the dreadful hours of doing taxes if they’re spent with you. 

A few beats of silence. His arms have wrapped just right so that his warm palm presses into your lower back, the other hand tracing a mindless circle over your shirt a few inches higher. Your breathing matches his, fingers rubbing a matching pattern into his scalp that has him humming periodically.

The laundry will get done eventually, but it can wait. For now, you just want to hold your boy, and let him hold you. 

“It’s a date,” he finally gives in, voice muffled, making you smile widely, “I’ll light candles and everything, sweetheart.”

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

[daily-sifloop]

i'd love to see sif and loop (human!) enjoying their favorite snacks :) curious to know if you'd hc it still being malanga fritters or perhaps something completely different!

Day 9: food preferences

[dropthedemiurge]

«I want to live... I want to live. With Yeowoon.» – Tae Myungha, Love for Love's Sake

// My other BL & Kpop fanarts //

[miabrown007]

Félix: kidnapping is a love language Kagami: you have no social skills, idiot

*two weeks later*

Félix: okay, so when Marinette's at her most vulnerable, I'll gaslight her into thinking I'm her boyfriend, so she'll follow me into an abandoned building where we can put her in an altered mental state and present to her my family's life story in the imaginable most cryptic play of theater she has ever seen, which will reveal to her our horrible secret and the fact that her abusive father-in-law is also her arch-nemesis Kagami: you're so big brained, bae 🥰

[the-ow]

ig destacadas ' ★

사랑

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— art.

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[somethingsgottasaveyou]

There's just something so therapeutic about screaming your lungs out to your favourite songs at a concert

[lil-lemon-snails]

"I can't ignore what's under dancefloor boards, The rhythm of my heart a dead-as-disco beat, But I still move my feet, to slip out of this groove, I'm free" ~ 2econd 2ight 2eer, Will Wood, The Normal Album

I have been plagued with visions of LDR Sun every time I listen to this song and I NEEDED to get this out of my system @spadillelicious when do we get to smooch the boy pLEASE

v textless version and close ups under cut!! v