#Spotify is favorite app

[rayoffrcknsunshine]

If anybody wants a new wincest playlist lmao

[gotweim]

And I wanna rock your gypsy soul

Just like way back in the days of old

Then magnificently we will float

Into the mystic

✨,❤️&✌🏼

One of my all time favorite songs

[aistoqe]

best apps frfr

pinterest, spotify, youtube, notes, tumblr >>>>>

[llycaons]

I have a delicious new tablet with approximately 1,000,000,000x the storage space of my phone. what is everyone’s favorite (free) apps? I’m really interested in unusual, unique, unexpectedly useful, etc, but also things for fun, like crosswords

[thschei]

My mom got home and immediately handed me an ipod classic and said "[Patient] told me her ipod won't hold a charge anymore, so I told her you might be able to fix it, or at least show her how to rip the music library onto her computer"

and I said . "I've told you to stop telling people I can help them with technology ."

And then I noticed the ipod actually still had a full battery (but I'm sure, like my barely functioning ipod classic, within a few seconds-minutes the battery would die), so I glanced through the menus, mostly because I still feel very nostalgic for using ipods & find the tactile buttons/audible clicking/whirring to be a lot more appealing than keeping music on a purely touchscreen torture nexus, but I was also curious about how recent the music this patient listens to is

So I said . "Oh hey, she has Rick Astley on here!"

And after a few minutes she goes . "I have that fucking Rick Astley song stuck in my fucking head." and I laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed

[distressed-bird]

I see no one on the spotify post in the replies or reblog tags talking about soundcloud… please tell me I’m not that old…

You… you guys remember soundcloud right? Right?

I’m not alone here… am i?

[thestrawberrygirly]

150 things to do when you're bored 🧸🍰🍓

make a journal and write down about your dreams.

try baking a cake.

draw sanrio characters.

learn choreo of the song 'war of hormones' by bts.

stream bts songs or your favorite band's songs.

clean your room.

play any cute mobile games like Purrfect Tale, Resonance of Ocean, Resortopia, Sumikkogurashi Farm, Rhythm Hive, HelloKittyWorld2 Sanrio Kawaii and more. (these are available on android)

plant some trees.

watch any ghibli studio movie.

declutter your phone.

watch some aesthetic japan vlogs.

read a book.

do some skincare.

make a playlist on spotify about the songs you would like to play if you owned a cute café.

write a book about your dream world.

do pilates.

try coquette aesthetic makeup.

start crocheting.

go for a bicycle ride.

have picnic with friends or alone.

watch youtube videos.

go stargazing.

try skateboarding.

go for a walk and observe the beautiful nature and then journal about it.

try cooking with your partner or friends

make a youtube channel.

start a side hustle.

start blogging.

read your favorite blogs.

listen a podcast.

write a song about your favorite person.

make music on bandlab.

write down goals you want to achieve.

learn new language.

re-organise your closet.

take a day off from social media.

take a nap.

organise your pinterest boards.

write a poem.

write a letter to yourself.

make a cute diy necklace.

invent a cute game to play with your friends.

learn to count in another language.

look through a cookbook and try something new.

water the plants.

pray.

try meditating for 5 minutes.

read my blogs :) <3

draw cute doodles.

make cute things out of air dry clay.

create cute diy stickers.

bake cookies in cute fun shapes.

build a blanket fort and read a book inside while eating snacks.

create a scrapbook of favorite memories.

paint rocks with colorful cute designs.

make cute bracelets for your bestfriend.

write a cute story about fairies.

make homemade popsicles with fruit juice.

watch the sunset or sunrise and take a moment to appreciate the beauty of nature.

go for a nature walk and collect interesting leaves or stones.

have a movie marathon with your favorite films.

have a fashion show with clothes from your closet.

design and decorate your own phone case.

create a memory jar filled with notes of happy moments.

design and paint your own ceramic plant pots.

learn about law of attraction.

do research about the history of something of your interest like 'how it was invented?', 'who started it?'.

create your own font.

play an old online game.

try a coloring app.

work on your wish list.

paint your nails.

take a bubble bath.

start a garden.

make your own short movie with your phone.

complete a puzzle.

write about the most beautiful dream you have ever saw.

organize your house.

make a smoothie.

put an appreciation message on a balloon and let it go.

complete a challenge like 30 day self care challenge, 30 day writing challenge and more.

visit a local art gallery.

watch a lecture or TED talk.

read a self-help book.

read a book on astronomy.

click aesthetic pictures of nature.

make your phone look aesthetic.

give your bedroom a makeover on ghibli studio aesthetic.

create a toothpick tower.

practice writing from your non dominate hand.

write about what a day in your dream life looks like.

take out your pet for a walk.

make something wearable for your pet.

learn about how to beat procrastination.

make a little plushie out of your old socks.

learn a new skill.

make a cute website in carrd.co.

write down 10 things you're grateful for.

sit by a river.

visit a local bakery.

walk around a lake.

scroll on pinterest about nature.

walk in the rain.

watch classic films.

watch fashion shows on youtube.

get a haircut.

drink water, take care of yourself <3

read some beauty tips.

watch ballet videos.

write a quote on moon.

say yes to everything for a day.

read some interesting articles.

watch your comfort movie.

write a fiction story.

make your own calendar.

have an indoor picnic with your partner.

write a list of things you will do with your bestie.

crochet something for your loved one or yourself.

learn graphic designing.

write 10 beautiful things about yourself.

make paper stars.

explore interesting websites.

explore your neighborhood.

make a yummy snack.

make hwachae.

try origami.

write a list of your favorite songs explaining why you love it.

watch run bts.

read some manga.

make strawberry cake.

watch conan gray's old vlogs <3

watch onegai my melody :D

design and launch a cute social media challenge to spread positivity and creativity online.

host a themed dinner party with your friends where everyone dresses up and brings a dish from a different culture.

have a spa day at home complete with homemade facemasks, bath bombs, and soothing music.

design a pretty jewellery.

draw your dream house.

try out guided meditation videos (you will find in youtube).

learn about a new culture.

make homemade jam.

do a random act of kindness.

research and plan a future trip.

try a new type of workout video.

research and practice self-defense techniques.

try a new type of creative writing (screenwriting, playwriting, etc.).

try a new type of DIY beauty product (lip balm, body scrub, etc.).

watch a documentary.

learn about constellations and stargaze.

practice calligraphy.

do a riddle.

🌷follow me on instagram <3🌷

[noctomania]

Whatever you do, do not joke with anyone about Spotify wrapped ever, it's illegal on here. Spotify wrapped is very serious.

[15000bugs]

lets go back to the beach / lets live in a dream / you can pretend to be you / i can pretend to be me / but we dont need to act like were ourselves / we dont have to be anything / ive been thinking wrong forever / i dont have to be anything :)

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR EIGHTEEN

in which eddie shows you deftones, texts are missed and calls are answered, and lines are crossed once more for good measure.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, light dry humping?, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 4k+

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

18:00 ─────────────ㅇ── 24:00

Steve-O: rise and shine, campers! time to get back at it with these wellness checks. gonna need some proof you two are still alive.

HOUR EIGHTEEN - 9:00 AM 

Eddie’s eyes narrow in concentration at your phone as his thumbs fly across the screen, navigating the Spotify app with ease to find the Deftones song he specifically wants. He doesn’t do as you had and go to their artist page – he searches with purpose, in no mood to scroll through albums to find the song he’s looking for. 

“I still don’t understand how you can type so fast,” you mumble, watching with fascination that you try to tamper down with faux boredom, “Even I can’t type that fast, and I own the damn thing.” 

He doesn’t even glance up as he scrolls along the screen, finding the song and clicking on it, “I’m just good with my fingers.” 

There it goes. The air from your lungs, once again vacating the premises as he freezes beside you. 

It isn’t fair. An internal whine that nearly works itself up your throat and out your mouth, making you want to stomp your feet like a child. You hadn’t even recovered from the casual drop of baby yet. And now he’s going to just say that? 

“Oh, God, I-” he’s looking up finally, eyes wide and stuttering with embarrassment, “Fuck, I swear to God, I did not mean that as an innuendo.” 

You open your mouth. You close it. You repeat the process. You’re fucking speechless and it’s a little bit embarrassing. 

“I’m serious!” he persists when you don’t reply, and only stare at him in continued shock, “Seriously! I- Fuck, I was referring to with my job. At the autoshop. I’m- Fuck,” he cuts his explanation off, dragging a hand over his face and falling back into the couch, “Kill me. Kill me now, please – and be sure to make it quick and painless, pretty please.” 

You finally laugh. It’s a bit choked, a bit strangled, but it instantly has Eddie lowering his hand. 

“I think if we were going to kill each other, Munson, it would have happened hours ago,” you try to tease him, but something about the sentiment comes out far softer than you intended. Like it’s not a joke. Like, in your own odd way, you’re trying to whisper a truth to him – everything has changed for me now. 

“Probably,” he sighs, relaxing a bit and leaning back beside you as he looks to the phone once more and clicks on a song, “Proba-fucking-ly.” 

For the first two songs, there is a distance to be kept between the two of you. You peek at the screen and catch the titles – Cherry Waves and Sextape – and make a mental categorization of which one you enjoy more. You nearly audibly snort at Sextape, but manage to keep your immature humor to yourself. You prefer Cherry Waves, anyways. 

  The songs that follow become a bit of a blur. Because for the first two, the distance existed. You can focus on the guitar and the vocals and the bass drum and everything except the man sitting beside you. But then song three comes on. 

Fucking song three. You don’t catch the name, but it might be your favorite yet. Or you might be biased. 

Because it’s during this third song that something changes. Eddie is no longer content in just leaning back beside you, in letting you consume the new music in a sort of solitude that was impressive to achieve when not actually alone. You first notice his restlessness in the bounce of his knee, shaking beside yours as he finally puts the phone down on the coffee table rather than balanced on his thigh. You don’t comment on it, you let it slide. You faux indifference. But then, the flexing of his hand starts.

It’s odd. Sure, plenty of people mess with their hands in relation to nerves, but you’ve never seen it happen like that before. The slow stretch of him pushing his fingers to their limits before retracting them, bending his knuckles as he tucks the tips in. The veins along the top of his hand popping exceptionally. 

“I’m just good with my fingers.”

I fucking bet he is. 

You curse yourself for the warmth that burns in the pit of your stomach. Focus. You should be focusing on the music, on taking in what he’s sharing with you. 

Not on his hands. Specifically his fingers, and how good they’d feel-

Fucking stop it. Cut it out. No. 

It takes an ungodly amount of willpower for you to look away, but you manage it. Unfortunately, what you don’t manage to do is ignore the bouncing of his leg. You don’t manage to extinguish that burning that he’s begun in you — a fire started from his kindle. 

Impulsive. Impulsive, and a little stupid, and endlessly daring. That’s what it is when you finally reach out a hand to land on his knee midsong. 

The shaking immediately ceases, and you take over the soothing motions as you let your thumb initially rub in arcs against the side of his thigh. With each strum of the guitar that rings out, you let your thumb complete its semicircle motion. With each pounding of drums, you give a gentle squeeze. He doesn’t say a word about it, and neither do you. Especially when he drops his hand over yours, wiggling his fingers between yours with the failure of a casual grace. You try not to smile as you flip your hand and let him properly intertwine them.

Flexing, but this time, it’s to squeeze your palm to his. You still think about those goddamn fingers.

“So, what do you think so far?” Eddie asks after he clears his throat.

“They’re good,” you nod, finding yourself shuffling subconsciously closer to him now that he’s gripping onto your hand, “Really good.” 

“I’m just good with my fingers.”

You know that he’s more than just good. Just like Deftones, you’d dare say he’s really good. 

The song switches, and both of you have scooted close enough to one another that your thighs press together. Shoulder to shoulder, sharing enough space to feel his breath on the side of your bare neck. 

His grip on your hand tightens.

You want the opposite. You suddenly want his hand to detach from yours and to find home on your cheeks, hands on either side of your face before he’s pulling you into him, throwing caution and formality to the wind. You two have already crossed that line; why was it so hard to take that leap once more? 

The song is still playing. You don’t recognize the tinny guitars that are on the loop of repeating the same notes, an echo effect of sorts layered over them. 

It’s just the guitar. And suddenly, the rasps of Eddie’s breaths are something your acutely aware of. Like he’s closer, like he’s letting his head tilt even closer to you. You feel that heat transferring between your biceps that are smashed together, not even thin layers of t-shirt or the sleeve of the crew neck able to stop it. 

It all happens suddenly.

The guitar pauses and Eddie’s hand loosens in yours. Your heart races, and you realize you’re preparing yourself for what he’s doing before he’s even sprung into action. 

Kiss me, the sigh you let out whispers.

It’s answered by the song, and by Eddie. A combination of the two that you can’t differentiate. 

The silence in the song is cut off by whimpers. One from the lead singer on the track, one from Eddie. Both breathy, both shakey, both whispering of the loss of control.

“Fuck it.”

Two words. He says those two words again as his warning before he lets go of your hand and is reaching up, shifting your two bodies impossibly quick as his hands do exactly as you had craved. One on each cheek, and then he does it.

He kisses you.

It is neither kind nor gentle, despite the allusion that it might have been from the way he cradles your cheeks. The callouses on his fingers scrape your cheeks, you can feel every crack in his bottom lip as it slots between your own. It’s easy and quick work, the way your mouths can mold together so effortlessly. Tongues that were once so sharp as they’d spit venomous words at once another now meet and pass over teeth, blurring the lines of where you end and he begins — of where hatred ended and this began. 

Whatever it is, whatever it will be for these last few hours, whatever it will be once the clock runs out, you’re grateful. You, your vinery, your civility — they all scream their prayers of thanks as his hands drop from your cheeks and find your hips. You don’t even process that he’s tugging you onto his lap or that you’re letting him until it’s happened. Your thighs bracket his own hips, and he gives you no time before he’s pressing your full weight into him, hands clawing at you, desperate to keep you close. 

You can’t even hear the song anymore over the roar of your own heart.

“Baby,” he murmurs against your mouth, and you realize now what the price is. 

The price is your sanity. The price is a loss of control, and letting him consume you whole. A small price in the grand scheme of it all.

“I-“ you start a sentence that you have no idea of what the ending would be, but he interrupts with his mouth. The teeth your tongue had once met bite down on your lip and you swear you taste blood, swear you see crimson as he sighs out again into your open mouth. 

His hands guide your hips against his. A steady rhythm, and with only a few passes, you can feel him harden against you. Your pace picks up of your own doing, the friction of your panties and his pajama pants nudging your clit and leaving you breathless. 

What the fuck are we doing?

You should stop it. You should mind the delicate balance you two have been trying to achieve since you first crossed this line. 

You only push down harder on him, only bite down on his lip as he had yours. This time, blood might have honestly been drawn — the hiss that escapes him says it all. 

“You’re going to be the fucking death of me,” he chastises you between kisses, “You want to know what was fucking wrong earlier? You. You are driving me insane, you are driving me straight into the fucking grave.” 

Oh.

Oh.

The way he had leapt up. His nervous energy. The way he had put as much space between the two of you as possible.

“I affect you that much?”

It is not a confident question — you completely pull away from him, leaning back as you breathe it out, hands finding home on his shoulders as you survey him.

He’s being honest. 

His pupils are wide but those brown, doe eyes have softened as they meet your gaze. His chest is heaving, his lips are already bruising pink as they fall apart so casually. 

He’s being honest. 

You affect him, you’re doing this to him — he’s caught up in flames, no sign of salt water in sight. 

“You always do,” he says, “Always have. Probably always will.” 

Your grip on his shoulders tighten. 

I could never hate you. 

How blind you had been. How absolutely, blissfully unaware you had been functioning all these months. 

A hand trails from its grip on his shoulders, fingers slipping over his bare collar bone, “What do you mea-“ 

You don’t get to finish the question or dig any deeper into the revelation. The music both of you had long since abandoned has been replaced by the ringing of your phone.

Eddie’s eyes immediately pinch shut, face twisting with irritation. You can’t tell if he’s more annoyed at the interruption due to whatever breakthrough you two were on the precipice of, or because he’s still painfully hard beneath you. But he quickly wraps one arm around your waist, tugging your torso flush to his as he leans forward quickly and reaches out to grab your phone. 

“Oh, what the fuck,” he huffs once his eyes are open again and he’s looking at your phone screen.

Your face has been pressed into the crook of his neck due to the current position and way he’s tightly holding you to him. You have no clue who it is, but you have five decent guesses to throw out. 

He answers for you. Sharply and bitterly, he snaps out a, “What do you want, Harrington?” 

Steve. One of the five guesses. Go figure.

“Yes, we’re fucking alive,” Eddie holds no patience for your friend, all the softness he’d held for you gone save for the stroke of his thumb against the bare small of your back, “We were-“ 

A pause. You wonder for a second if he is going to admit it. If right here, right now, he would confess to your friends what has happened. How he could never hate you, how you drive him insane, how by nothing changing that everything has changed.

“Sleeping.” 

An answer to your question. You hate your disappointment, and bite it down with vengeance. 

You can faintly hear Steve’s voice over the phone, not quite as trilling or pitched as Nancy’s or Robin’s. Eddie’s annoyance still rolls off of him in waves, and you imagine that you’d catch him rolling his eyes along with his little huffs of air if you were to finally lift your head from his neck. But you’re selfish, and his arm is still around you waist as it presses you tight to his chest, so you indulge yourself. You dig your nose deeper against the junction of his neck, you take in his lingering cologne and let the stray curls tickle your cheeks. 

You should have known he wouldn’t admit it.

“Okay, okay,” Eddie grumbles into the phone, barely getting out the repetitive word before his breath hitches as you pucker your lips against the skin you’ve been burrowing into. It’s only a chaste kiss, but it has its desired effect, “Okay, Harrington. We’ll send a fucking photo. You done?”

Then it hits you. A fun game, a distraction from your disappoint and a way to crawl under his skin all in one. You fight hard not to let a smile spread at the risk of him feeling it against his neck as you take a deep breath in through your nose, noticing the way his shoulder nearly reflexively lifts slightly as if it tickles, because you’re puckering your lips again.

The second chaste kiss is testing the waters. He doesn’t react. And so you go forth with your plan, mouth falling open, teeth grazing his jugular.

He reacts microscopically. His chest halts movement.

It’s not enough for you.

So you suck. Hard. Puckered lips and a vendetta to prove, you let your teeth bite at the skin that sucks into your mouth. 

That does the trick.

“O-Okay!” he yelps out in surprise, his hand bruising as he grips you harder. He tries to pull his neck back from you, but his hand only presses you down onto his lap and you feel his dick twitch beneath his thin pants, “Christ, Harrington. We fucking get it. We’ll send a photo. And we won’t sleep another wink, so bite me,“ he pants out as you move to the spot beneath his ear, finding where his jaw connects to his throat, repeating the process and doing exactly as he had told Steve. His hips buck up into you, “Okay, I’m hanging up now, Harrington. Bye.” 

You’re grinning wildly against his ear as he tosses your phone carelessly somewhere on the couch — or maybe the floor, you couldn’t tell at this point — before he’s flipping you down onto your back on the couch and hovering over you.

Your head falls back instinctually, leaving your neck open for him to begin an assault of kisses.

“Are-“ A kiss. “You-“ A bite. “Fucking-“ A soothing lathe of tongue over the bite. “Kidding-“ A harsh suck. “Me.”

You writhe beneath him, but he’s pressing his entire weight down onto you, hips slotted between yours and one hand  pinning both your wrists to the cushion above as the other stays glued to your waist. 

“Did you think that was funny?” he breathes out against you, letting the tip of his nose barely graze over the base of your throat, “Doing that shit while I was trying to talk Harrington down from that damn ledge?” 

“Why was he on the ledge to begin with?” you breathily question, trying to move your hands from his grasp, the urge to run your fingers through his curls growing. He only tightens his hold.

“Apparently,” he pauses and presses a quick kiss at the edge of the sweatshirt collar, looking up at you through his bangs and lashes, “He had texted, and we didn’t respond. Photos are back in demand.” 

“We’re quite the commodity,” you try to joke, avoiding his gaze. Trying to avoid the softness buried deep inside there, all soft and melted in shades of brown, “We should start charging them.” 

“We are charging them, technically,” he snorts, finally letting go of your wrists and leveling his face above yours.

Right. You keep forgetting the promise of a cash prize if you make it out of this alive. 

Alive, not unscathed. 

You’re already picturing that cash as blood money, some pathetic trophy that won’t even begin to cover the irreversible scars that will be left behind. All the hurt, all the fights, all the realizations — no amount of promised money can erase them.

You start to consider what could erase them, but you stop yourself when you realize that that admittance is too heavy. 

He’s here. The weight of him is pressing into you, the smell of him is encasing you, and the stare of his big brown eyes is locking you in. You have him. For a few more hours, you have him.

The wounds can wait. The time to heal and scar over will come later.

“I guess they are, huh?” you laugh when you realize you’ve gone too long without replying. 

The stare turns curious. Still melted chocolate, still deathly soft for you, but curious all the same. “Yeah. Yeah, they are.” 

You’re about to retreat into your own head and consider what he might do with his share of the cash, but that voice in your mind whispers once more.

He’s here. You have him. Just ask him.

“What are you doing with your money?” you blurt out. 

He chuckles and shakes his head, curls falling over his shoulders and creating a curtain as he continues to balance his weight on his forearms settled on each side of your head, still hovering over you.

You should probably comment on that. Make a snide remark about it. Shove him off.

You don’t.

“Is that really want you’d like to talk about right now?” 

Right, the weight of his hips as he rolls them gently into you reminds you of what the two of you had been doing before the phone call. The boundaries you’d hopped right over, all the lines you two had been in the process of crossing.

The affect you have on him.

Your stomach twists and suddenly your legs fall open wider to welcome him in, only to wrap them up around his waist. He lets you, lets you pull him right in until your chests are flush to each other. The only thing separating your skin from his is this damn sweatshirt. 

“I… Maybe,” you force out just before his lips capture yours. It’s not as urgent as when he’d pulled you in for a kiss to Deftones, but it’s still enough to shatter every bone in your body before melding them all back together into something new, something different.

Something changed. 

Eddie smiles, and it’s almost shyly. “Maybe?”

You hum, but it’s cut off, caught in your throat with another roll of Eddie’s hips. 

“Okay. Let’s talk about it then, sweetheart.” 

Another roll of his hips, and you lift your own to meet the thrust this time, trying to catch him against you in a way for reprieve. You can feel the wet patch gathering on your panties, your thighs clenching onto his hips harder. 

“What ever shall I do with my money?” he pretends to ponder, eyes shooting up to look away from you in faux contemplation. 

As he does it, one of his hands wander over your sternum, dancing above the fabric of the borrowed clothes. 

“Maybe I’ll buy a new bike,” he muses, the hand wandering lower, tracing a steady line down your abdomen, “Maybe I’ll get myself a new guitar.” 

His hand has reached the hem of the sweatshirt, slips beneath it and plays with the edge of your panties. 

Your mouth will be your damnation as you snipe back, “Or maybe you can buy yourself a whole collection of playboys, filled with plenty of models who definitely don’t look like someone you claim to hate.” 

His hand retracts immediately, and you can’t help but begin to giggle.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you start to gasp out when he lifts away from you, reaching out to grab onto him. 

He’s fast, but your hands are quicker. You wrap them around the back of his neck and tug him into you, only for him to continue to lift himself up and bring you with him as well this time. 

You resemble a koala, and can only imagine what the scene looks like to an outsider. 

“Eddie!” you practically squeal, and can feel the vibrations of his own laughter as he sits up on his knees, you still clinging to him.

His arms wrap around you and you lean back, catching that mischievous glint in his eyes. It breaks through the softness, burns brightly in your chest as your laughter fades into soft breaths that hit his freckled cheeks.

You stare at each other for a moment, a tangle of limbs and unspoken words. His earlier admission isn’t forgotten, the lines crossed all painted in red now.

He’s here. You have him, for now. 

You can only imagine the claw marks you will be leaving behind when the clock strikes twenty four hours, and you’re forced to leave him and this behind. 

“You, sweetheart,” he finally breaks the silence with gentle smirk, “are a certified boner killer.” 

You don’t miss a beat, reaching down between you two, hand cupping his still prominent erection, “You sure about that?” 

He only groans in response, and in your following cackles, your hold on him slips. 

He could have let you fall back roughly on the couch, especially given his distraction with fighting his ever growing smirk. He could have let you smack your head back on the cushion and let you deal with the dull ache that would have followed. He could have, he could have, he could have.

He doesn’t. 

He guides you back with his arms still tight around you. Makes sure that you land softly against the worn plush. Takes his time removing his grip on you before he’s standing up from the couch.

You lay back, so sincerely content as you let out a final breath of a laugh and watch him shake his head in amusement as he turns to leave. 

“Where are you going?” if it weren’t for the residual giddiness of the moment, you’d have been embarrassed by the clinginess that had threaded its way into your tone.

“The bathroom,” he answers without hesitation, back facing you as he starts down the short hall.

You call after him, “Okay. Don’t take too long this time!” 

Even as his laughter echoes faintly, you know you still have him. For now.

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[tboygareth]

here, have a little modern steddie meet-cute. meet-ugly, maybe? idk. 1k words, mostly dialogue

"uber for, uh," the guy in the beemer at the curb looks at the phone in his hand, "eddie m.?"

"hey, that's my name!" eddie shouts, stumbling toward the car. the world is tipping sideways a little, but it's been a good night.

he wrenches open the passenger side door and slides in.

"cool if i sit up front, man? i get motion sickness sitting in the back, and you would not like me when i'm motion sick."

"uh, sure?"

eddie pulls the door closed behind him and says, "so what's your name, pretty boy?"

"you don't check the app before getting into some random guy's car?" the guy asks with a huff.

"oh, no, i never order these things for myself." eddie laughs. he tries to think back, remember how many jameson shots he put back tonight. can't. oh, well. "my roommate always sets it up beforehand when i come down to the styx for a show."

"a show? like a concert?"

"uh, no. drag show. styx is a gay bar." the guy's quiet at that. "that a problem? still dunno your name."

"oh. steve," the guy - steve - says shortly. "no, it just... looks more like a... metal bar, or something."

"sometimes things are both, can you believe it! they do a drag show last wednesday of every month. good show tonight, all the girls looked great." he kicks his feet up on the dashboard of the car, watches steve's eyes cut sideways at them as he does. "do you like drag shows, steve?"

he's testing the waters, feeling steve out to see if he should be worried about getting into some random guy's car outisde a gay bar with a dead phone. eddie's definitely had a little too much tonight. he's probably got glitter in his hair. there's definitely black lipstick smeared across his cheek from when allison chaynz planted one on him earlier during her set.

"only been to a few, but yeah. they're a good time. good show."

safe, then. tentatively.

eddie studies steve for a moment, trying to figure him out. he's got this thing he does sometimes, in an uber; eddie's an easy read - he gets into an uber and the driver immediately flips their spotify over to a metal playlist.

the driver's are usually easy to read too, and it's eddie's favorite game; he tends to know when he's got a country boy behind the wheel, or an emo transplant from the mid aughts, or the indie girlies with their iced coffees and perpetual dark undereye circles that all the concealer in the world can't hide.

the guy looks like he wears teenage boy deodorant and smells like repressed trauma. he has the indie girlie dark circles under his eyes, an apple watch strapped to his wrist. rich boy. drives a beemer. good hair, stupid highlights. there's a tube of burt's bees cherry lip balm in the center console and a days old energy drink in the cupholder.

"hmmm, the front bottoms," he decides at last, after staring at steve for what must have been an uncomfortably long time.

"i'm sorry?"

"i said, the front bottoms."

"is that a... what's the word... a euphemism?"

"no, steeeeve. it's a band. check 'em out sometime, your daddy issues'll thank you. do you like music, steve?"

"sure."

eddie clicks his tongue. "smells like bullshit. no one who likes music says sure when someone asks if they like music."

they're stopped at a stoplight. from behind the wheel, steve is studying him right back, looking him up and down, his gaze coming to rest once again on eddie's shoes on the dash.

"get your feet down," steve says, pushing at eddie's shins. "do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"

"fine, fine. so if you don't listen to music, steve, what do you listen to in this fancy bmw?"

"sports, mostly," steve shrugs. "podcasts sometimes."

"oh, boy, you are a walking red flag, aren't you? shame you're so pretty."

"well what about you? what do you listen to?"

"guess."

"i dunno, probably that metal shit. five finger whatever, or something."

eddie presses his hand to his chest. "five finger - oh, stevie, i am wounded. i wouldn't be caught dead listening to bro rock."

out of the corner of his eye, he definitely catches a smile from steve.

steve holds an aux cable out to him. "here, then. wow me. show me some real metal or whatever."

"god, i'd love to take you up on that," eddie says, huffing out a little laugh. he holds his phone up. "this sucker's been dead for hours."

this time steve's the one to click his tongue. "shame."

"truly. so what's your story, steven? what's got you out at three in the morning?"

"it's my night off," steve shrugs. "just started night shift at the hospital, trying to get used to the new sleep schedule."

"mmm, the hospital. you a nurse?"

"i am. trauma nurse."

"nice. ever see any gnarly injuries?"

"had a pretty fucked up dog bite come in the other night."

"shit."

"yeah." another stoplight, another unsubtle once over from steve. "so what about you? what do you do?"

"line cook."

steve's eyes linger on him a little longer than necessary. "oh, but i'm the walking red flag. got it."

"whoa," eddie laughs. "what's that supposed to mean?"

"i've dated line cooks. everyone's dated a line cook."

"sounds like something a slut would say, steve. craziest dick you've ever had, huh?"

"mmm."

it's not a denial.

they're getting close to eddie's building now, and that's an actual shame. because steve's cute. he needs a haircut maybe, and the stubble around his mouth and chin is just on the wrong side of five o'clock shadow, but he's got these distracting little moles along his face and neck and arm that eddie's been itching to play connect the dots with since he got in the car.

"wait, i know this building," steve says as he slows at the curb and looks at the address on his phone again. "my roommate's girlfriend lives in this building."

it clicks into place, then, for eddie.

"oh, shit! you're robin's steve!"

steve's eyebrows draw together as he gapes at eddie, and then his eyes go wide with realization. "chrissy's ed?"

"eddie," he corrects. "gotta be a level twenty friend to call me ed. and chrissy's the only level twenty friend i'll ever have."

"noted. good to finally meet you, man. i, uh. i guess this is you, then, huh?"

"yeah, sure is. maybe i'll see ya around." eddie goes to get out of the car.

"oh, you will," steve says, his smile lopsided and goofy. "i'll make sure of it."

"hold ya to it," eddie promises with a wink.

steve wiggles his fingers in a flirtatious wave as eddie walks backward on the sidewalk toward his building.

so robin's steve is cute. maybe he should have been letting chrissy set them up this whole time.

still. sports and podcasts. guy's a walking red flag. who knows, maybe they're green. eddie's never been able to see the difference anyway.

[coquettetoji]

{ 🪩 } EREN JEAGER MOODBOARD

★ general eren hcs ★

— hot type of nerdy * defo majors in computer science

— my boy by billie eilish coded

— has hot hands ( the veiny kind with long fingers but his hands defo aren’t abnormally huge 💀 ¡ALSO WEARS RINGS! )

— probably smells like weed, mint gum, and expensive cologne. i’m thinking creed aventus with a woody type of scent

— has a silver chain, not gold obvi 👎 defo does the tiktok arm leaning against door frame chain dangling pose

— solid 6’2 maybe 6’3 depending on shoes and lean muscular

— emotion damaging fuck boy (takes ‘hurt people hurt people’ on a whole nother level but he’s hot so who cares?)

— drives a blacked out camaro with tinted windows bc uh

— doesn’t vape, but will always occasionally smoke weed

— gym bro with a sleeper build * bench is probably 265-270 and rubs it in armin’s face atleast once a week

— has 1 playlist because he listens to spotifys default made daily mixes 💀 ( daily mix 4 is always his go to )

— his actual playlist consists of the most overplayed main stream indie songs but then has rnb songs with 3k listens per month mainly from eren that lowk hit?

— mama’s boy and likes cats > dogs

— doberman boy

— has his snapchat in his insta bio with the ghost emoji next to it

— can play guitar and surprisingly well, favorite song to play is sparks by coldplay

— wears prescription clear frame glasses with the blue light lenses on them at night but wears contacts during the day

— all his $$$ comes from stocks, doesn’t have a job but is so smart when it comes to shit like that **defo has one of those metal credit cards that clink against tables 😏

— has dimples on his lower back and deep smile lines with that joker type of smile lol hot

— 3.8 gpa, math and science smart but not reading/english smart

— has a black phone with a clear case, black background, and his most used app is tiktok and messages

— wears street wear, wife beaters, baggy jeans, graphic tees, expensive sneakers, and cargos

— brown / green eyes, show more when they’re in the sun

— has a single diamond piercing on his right ear bc he’s slutty like that

{💌} new message from mica

hopefully this wasn’t a horrible first post bc i’m new to this whole thing, i’ll figure things out after a couple youtube tutorials >:)

i will gladly go emo for eren omfg he’s such a *moan*

SETTING THIS WHOLE BLOG UP SOON I PROMISE 😛

[darylbrainrot]

CHAPTER 01: WIP

AIYGIWGWY || GOJO X READER

How would you—a part time guitarist and streamer, react when an upcoming streamer known as gojo admitted to liking your music and streams?

As he sat down on his chair with it dipping with his added weight, he reached to his PC to start it up. He was about 20 minutes early to stream so he had to get his streaming apps ready. He wanted to keep this stream chill, he was probably some background music playing to make his stream calming (as calming as possible with his screams from playing fortnite.) As he made the sudden decision to play music on his stream, he opened Spotify as soon as his computer turned on.

He opened one of his designated playlists for streaming, some relaxing music ranging from different artists. He made sure this playlist wasn't going to get him flagged on his Twitch, something he didn't want to happen again.

He finally had his necessities opened, his discord and Spotify opened on his first monitor, his Twitch ready to stream on his third monitor, and finally his main monitor with his game loading up. When he looked at the time, he had around 6 minutes to spare before starting up his stream. With his extra time, he decided to go out of his room to his shared dorm with suguru to grab some snacks.

As he made his way to the shared kitchen, he just decided to grab a Gatorade and some random candies he had stored for when he was craving them. As he was going to retreat back to his room, he heard his fellow roommate's door open.

"Suguru, you should join my stream please." He said, dragging out the please for dramatic effect.

"Hell nah, ima go to sleep anyway." The black-haired man says with a blank stare, passing Satoru as he makes a b line towards the restroom.

"What the flip man." Sighing as he made it back to his room to start up his stream.

—————————

"BROO, no fucking way he got me. He literally only got me for 50 shield." He said, falling back in his chair as his 2nd place ranking got displayed on his screen. His hands now going through his face, raking through his white hair. The soft melodies of 'Cologne' by Beabadoobee fill the stream when he is quiet. The song finished up when one of your songs replaced the quietness, it was a cover you made of 'Paul' by Big Theif.

This is when his chat started flooding with new messages, ranging from questions asking him if he liked your music to how long he's been listening to you. As his arms finally fell from his hair, he looked at his chat when he saw the flood of new texts.

"I didn't know you listened to y/n's music... of course, I listen to their music, she's like one of my favorite artists." He said after reading some questions in his chat. Snickering at his chats surprised reaction, "I'm surprised some of you guys didn't know this, I follow them on twitter and on insta and I know some of you guys stalk my following and shit" He said as he was going back to the home screen of his game, deciding that it was enough of fortnite for him after playing around 10 rounds.

“Have you seen shes working on a new song? She posted about it on her twitter” he mumbled, reading one of the texts that caught his eye. “Yeah I saw her post, hopefully she posts a clip of her song. I know it’s gonna be good though.” He grins, exited that one of his favorite artist might release a song soon.

"Anyways, ima stopping the stream here, I'm done with fortnite for today. I might stream again in the weekend though, I'll tweet about it if I do." Waving at his face cam as he ended the stream, making sure to double-check it was off. He closed off any extra tabs he had open before shutting down his PC. Once he was finally done with his computer, he stood up and went to scroll on his phone on his bed, finally relieving the ache in his back due to his bad posture.

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Interact with this post to be a part of my taglist.

this isnt proof read so lmk if theres any mistakes D:

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TAGLIST: OPEN

@bakananya, @lysaray, @reagan707, @cccccccccccleo, @samutoru, @sunaluvrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, @sur-i-ki, @rybunnie, @ramchu,

[certifiedlibraryposts]

Hey You Should Check Out Freegal!

I'm surprised I've never seen a post on this service before (Or if I did I don't remember it, but if you know of one please send it my way and I'll add it to the queue here!).

Just this week I was clued into Freegal at one of my local libraries and I love it! It's music streaming service somewhat similar to Spotify or Tidal that libraries can get subscriptions for. Not only is it all free for library card holders to use, not only can you stream music with no ads at all, you can download a limited number of songs every week. For free. No weird rules that restrict you by making it only accessible through the app or anything. The MP3 file goes right into your device and it's yours to move or copy or burn to a CD or WHATEVER non-commercial use you wanna do with it!

To use it, you'll just need a card from a participating library (You can search for your library on the Freegal website) and an email address to make an account. You can access it through your browser on a desktop/laptop, or there's an app you can download through your phone's app store.

If you're like me and want to stop relying on music streaming services, Freegal is a great place to start! The exact limit differs between libraries as far as I'm aware, but it lets you download three to five songs a week, resetting on Monday. Even after you've hit your weekly limit, you can still add songs to a wishlist to have a convenient place for everything you want to download in the future!

I'd say one of the only downsides is that the selection isn't as big as the other services like Spotify. You're probably not going to find many of your favorite indie artists on there, but there's still a really decent selection and you're more than likely going to find something you're familiar with and enjoy! Also the app is...a bit rough around the edges and slow to load things at times (at least on Android, I haven't seen it on an iPhone) but it's not too bad. Imo everything else makes up for it.

I hope this post is informative and that you all have cards to participating libraries! If you don't, consider looking around for other libraries close by! It's a great service that I highly encourage you take advantage of, and increased awareness and demand for it might encourage more libraries to participate!

[the-softest-love-is-ours]

Idk if this’ll help anyone or if these are even good… just thought of stuff self shipper could do, I guess.

Anywho, here’s a list of things yo,u as a self shipper, can do for fun.

(This will be added onto with time)

Proship/Comship/Anti-Antis DNI

Play Tomodachi Life, make yourself, your main F/O, and then a bunch of family and friends and see how the shenanigans play out.

Play Sims (my choice is 4, but any one will work), same as before but this time you have mods and can control you and your F/O’s however you please.

Make kandi jewelry for each of your F/O’s, whether it’s a bracelet with their name or just a necklace with a color scheme you think fits them.

Purchase something custom from etsy and/or fiverr. These can be care packages, letters, plushies, art pieces, fanfics, maybe you could find someone who does RP asmrs, and my personal favorites an RP or an annotated book.

Look on youtube for asmrs, whether they’re RP, sleeping beside or those muffled playlist scenarios.

For those of is that are age regressor, make a custom deco paci based on your F/O.

Credits to @myselfshipdiary for this one, make a Pinterest board. They can feature fanart, aesthetic images or heck maybe recipes you would cook for them and memes you would show them.

If you have the skills, or heck even if you don’t (life’s too short, try everything, learn new skills), design something based on them. A dress, a cake, a room, a candy platter, a party, an outfit, a plushie, literally anything!

Make a breakfast, lunch, and/or dinner you think they would like! Maybe if you bring your lunch to work, make a bento for yourself that you would send to work with them.

Go on to your online shopping sites and make wishlists of thing you’d think they would want/like.

Do some research on perfume/cologne, and either track down or commission one you think they’d wear. You can do the same for all necessary toiletries if you’d like to take it a step further.

Play around on spotify (or your music service of choice) and make playlists for various scenarios.

Piggybacking of the last one, find a song that you would make their ringtone and think of what their contact name would be in your phone.

Pick out a ring you think would be the engagement/wedding ring they would give you.

Make paper doll's of you/ your self insert and your f/os) along with attachable paper clothes!

If you have access to a printer and a blank notebook/sketchbook along with some glue, you can make a scrapbook with pictures of your f/o(s)! You can also add drawings you made and anything like stickers, washi tape, etc.

This one is digital, edit a transparent of your f/os) into a selfie of yours to make a couples photo! You can print it out and put it in a frame. Also, Dollar Tree sells frames that you can also paint, put stickers on, anything!

There is an app called Social Dummy, create a social media world with you and all your F/O’s on it!

Make perler bead pixel art of your f/o.