cecily-xyz - Tumblr blog

[cecily-xyz]

I’d sell my soul to be a pirate. That would give me a cool angsty backstory too so win win.

[cecily-xyz]

𝓥𝓮𝓼𝓾𝓿𝓲𝓪 , 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓐𝓻𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓪

[cecily-xyz]

Teal. My favorite color is teal.

[id: a watercolor portrait of Jim from Our Flag Means Death. Behind them there's a halo-like teal circle, and inside it there's a branch of orange tree with a few oranges hanging from it. /end id]

[cecily-xyz]

When people ask me why I'm so distraught over the loss of Eddie Munson

[cecily-xyz]

Eddie Munson doodles and only Eddie Munson doodles ☝🏼🤨 this man literally has me in a chokehold fr I came back from my tumblr grave to post these

And yes I edited in the writing because my irl handwriting is dogshit we don’t talk about it

[cecily-xyz]

it’s July I can’t believe it’s literally Halloween already happy fuckin Halloween guys

[cecily-xyz]

if i don’t make silly noises every day i will die

[cecily-xyz]

This is so sick it’s like a beautiful merge of the arcana style and realism omfg I’m obsessed

blorbo from my otome games

[cecily-xyz]

y’know for me it straight up doesn’t even occur to me to unfollow someone when they stop posting whatever it is i followed them for. unless the thing they’re posting about now is somehow actually actively upsetting to me i just accept it as a part of my life now. i’ll just scroll past it like i’m driving a car and dodging an obstacle on the road. and that part of the road is my daily commute and the thing stays on the road forever and i swerve around it every day for months instead of ever taking the initiative to get it removed. it just adds flavor i guess

[cecily-xyz]

Listen I MAY be projecting but. I think Eddie would be able to help you with depressive episodes really well.

Something tells me he had a rough go of it when he was younger. And maybe the first time he didn’t graduate, it hit him hard. He’s very familiar with that void.

And sometimes you fall into it. That black, gut-wrenching, painful nothingness, so cold and empty it’s fucking excruciating and nothing is fun and there’s no point to anything and you can’t even summon up the energy to wake up some days.

He sees your heart go limp and defeated from a fucking mile away because he’s swum in that swamp of sadness. He knows the signs.

And he brings you back. He brings you back because, despite how so many people seem to fucking despise him, you like him and he likes you. Which basically means he’s loyal to the death now.

He shows up at your home. Several times a week. Sits on the edge of your bed, in your dark room. He doesn’t do the fake cheerful, chipper “life is great” bullshit other people try to feed you. He just… talks. Treats you like a person. Says he cares.

He lets you cry.

Eddie reads comics outside in the hall while you take your first shower of the week. He cooks you burnt mac n’ cheese and actually gets you to smile at his incompetency.

Eddie takes you outside, and it’s nice, because instead of staring at your disheveled self people are staring at the constantly-talking loud-mouthed whirlwind jingle-jangling around like a court jester.

He’s doing it on purpose.

Eddie smokes a joint with you up on a hill, looking at the stars. And when you cry into his shoulder again he tells you that shit doesn’t have to be perfect. It just as to be enough to get by until things are good again.

And that void is still empty and black. But now it’s a little smaller than it was yesterday.

[cecily-xyz]

Revelation of Love!

[cecily-xyz]

[6:38 am] eddie munson is a lot of things, but organized isnt one of them. the back of his van looks like a school supply store exploded inside of a smoke shop, with notebook paper crumpled in every corner flattened under stacked stolen textbooks from all six years of highschool. the sound of them sliding all across the floor when he turns too sharp (or at all) eventually gets muffled by whatever heavy metal tape he can find back there. disorganized and notoriously untimely, hes late to almost every class and misses every deadline but one:

picking you up for school.

like clockwork, eddie swerves his beat up van into your drive each morning at 6:37 am on the dot. if youre not walking out the door right then and there, your neighbors pay the price. their sleeping babies pay the price. today has to be the day, unfortunately, that youre running a little late, and the door handle rattles from the sheer volume of his horn as you wrap your fingers around it. its catastrophic, and probably illegal, how loud it is.

when he sees you emerge from the doorway mumblint curses under your breath, he hoists his upper body through the drivers window, pounding the metal of the door and shouting, "hustle, y/n, hustle!"

"shut it, munson," you taunt back, shoving his head of curls back into the car, "ill hustle when you clean out this shithole."

"hey, now," eddie raises an apprehensive finger, "have some respect. this shithole," he pauses to wipe an imaginary tear from his cheek, "is the only constant in my life."

"oh yeah, of course," you cross your arms over your chest, leaning your head against the faded headrest and turning to face eddie, who is still fake sobbing over his vehicle, "we only hang out, like, every day. i am but a petal in the wind compared to your van."

his face drops immediately, from heartache to what might be the most convincing look of fake disdain for you, "youre soulless, you know that. soulless."

every morning is like this, complete with eddie murmuring nonsense about how no one understands the bond between a boy and his van as he reverses out of your driveway. the routine is strangely comforting: he plays his music too loud, you laugh too much, and he turns the volume down just a tad to hear it.

[cecily-xyz]

[cecily-xyz]

hold hands please

[cecily-xyz]

idk there’s just something about this dude

[cecily-xyz]

It's probably their birthday somewhere in the world, I'm not late

[cecily-xyz]

Happy Pride Month 2022!!!

Faust the Crow loves you even more than she did last year!