just let me be boring

it’s 90 degrees in my house i swear i have my ac on and the tiniest clothes i own and 2 fans blowing on me and im hugging my giant perrier but i’m melting. in other random no one cares news, if i post different sims than my usual family should i just post it here on my main or make a side blog? i know it’s not  big deal either way but it feels weird because i only post tavy and co. here ever so i’m like will it bother people to see different sims? do i care? did i leave my phone in the car? also something you might not know about me i’m a huge sci-fi fantasy nerd and probably only squischy remembers that one time 90 years ago when i posted elves on my blog the shame. and then i posted zombies and then outer space things and that random supernatural challenge i never even started, too. i was all over the place damns. but now i’m kind of bored and i just randomly made a new save one night and it’s like steampunk elves and ??? lmao why do i love elves >.>  anyways should i just post?? my blog is so boring right now like please and this new save has been fun for me (lmao ive played it like twice nice) so lfdsajkfsj *side crawls back into igloo*

2

a soft and beautiful man and the sharp asshole that lives in his house

honk honk its hance time
  • best friends since literal birth. since before birth. their moms were friends before they were born
    • so many embarrassing baby photos of the two of them in matching halloween costumes e.g. as woody and jessie from toy story
    • so many videos of them as little kids playing in hunk’s backyard, pretending to be explorers on a new planet
    • so many pictures of them at important events in each others’ lives (hunk at lance’s mom’s wedding, lance at hunk’s first piano recital, and of course hundreds of pictures of them at school dances, family vacations, award ceremonies)
    • also they “got married” at age 6 in lance’s bedroom and they both have photos from the wedding saved on their phones
  • hunk: [hyperfocusing] lance: [drawing hearts on post-it notes and slowly covering hunk’s back with them]
  • lance is chronically unable to not talk about hunk. doesn’t matter what he’s talking about, he will somehow relate it back to something hunk has said or done
    • pidge plays a game where she’ll bring up the most absurdly specific and obscure topic of conversation that she can think of with lance, and time how long it takes for him to start talking about hunk
      • his longest record is forty-eight seconds
  • lance: [takes hunk’s hands from behind, makes him dance]
  • both like to stim by making noise & like to copy each others’ noises
    • they will be sitting in the same room, working on separate projects, saying “bleep bleep bloop” back and forth to each other
    • they’re also the Spontaneous Harmonizing couple
  • hunk: [picks up lance when he’s in the middle of talking and just. holds]
    • lance continues talking almost as if he doesn’t notice
  • lance when hunk is being needy: ugh god hunk you’re driving me crazy, why am i even dating you hunk: ok let me just remind you that i, hunk, bore earthly witness to your real actual middle school scene phase, i was there, in the trenches, on the front lines, and i still had a crush on you so you don’t get to complain about anything i do literally ever
  • can smell each others’ meltdowns coming a fucking mile away
  • if one is ever hyperfocusing to the point that it’s sort of Bad the other will just. come over and take his hands and say “ok you’re done with this for now” and take him to get some food goo
  • lance loves when hunk lays on top of him it’s like he’s under a big ol rock and he feels safe and grounded
  • hunk when lance does something cool: [yelling] THAT’S MY HUSBAND
8
Ever After (1998)

And, while Cinderella and her prince did live happily ever after, the point, gentlemen, is that they lived.

interact with me!
  • ask:
  • 1: what idols you associate with your mutuals
  • 2: just by looking at my blog, who do i remind you of?
  • 3: favorite color scheme?
  • 4: what is your comfort book, comfort movie, and comfort tv show?
  • 5: what words can you never spell?
  • 6: who are your favorite (insert group) bloggers?
  • 7: what is your favorite mythological creature?
  • 8: tag your favorite blogs!
  • 9: what's the scariest dream you've ever had?
  • 10: if you could have any fake object (i.e. wands, something sci fi) what would you have?
  • 11: what are some of your favorite names?
  • 12: whats your top 3 favorite actors?
  • 13: a favorite memory?
  • 14: have you ridden in an ambulance?
  • 15: are you a daredevil?
  • 16: committed a crime?
  • 17: whats your favorite cereal?
  • 18: favorite smell?
  • 19: if you could design your own house, what would it look like?
  • 20: what's one of your guilty pleasures?
  • tell me:
  • 1: tell me about your day!
  • 2: tell me an unpopular opinion
  • 3: something that was irritating today
  • 4: a fun fact about anything
  • 5: tell me what song is stuck in your head
  • 6: tell me your ideal type!
  • 7: is anything bothering you? rant to me!
  • 8: do you have a crush? something exciting? gush!
  • 9: what you wish you were doing right now
  • 10: what's on your bucket list
  • 11: what your ideal day would be
  • 12: if you want to have a family/kids/get married
  • 13: whats one of your funniest memories?
  • 14: tell me about the most recent book, tv show/movie that left you messed up, but in a good way
  • 15: send me a movie rec, song rec, tv show rec
  • 16: tell me something cute & unique about your room
  • 17: is there anything you want to promote? (send me your gifsets, gfx, original posts, selfies, etc, ill reblog them!!)
I don’t know how to fully enjoy any of these moments without wondering if it’s the last.
—  Jay Asher, What Light

Did you know it’s possible to dislike a ship/ be critical of a ship whilst still accepting its existence and consuming certain content related to it because other people enjoy it? What a wild concept.

it’s almost 6 am and i didn’t sleep because i’m ill

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

why i even posted this

okay not related to anything in particular, but just as general knowledge, every time I see or hear someone calling Izuocha boring it only makes me ship it harder.

Well I’m sorry if you find loving romantic relationships based on healthy and mutual friendship boring buddy, but I actually like romance where both parties actually enjoy each other’s company and don’t want to murder each other half the time. 

…have I mentioned I’m just a bit petty?

  • book Hiccup: please for the love of Thor let me just have a boring day, I don't want adventures, I just want to sleep in for once in my miserable life.
  • film/series Hiccup: I haven't incited an incredibly dangerous situation in over 18 hours, this is ridiculous and I REFUSE to sit still, I am literally going to jump off of a cliff today, I will cause and solve so many problems for these dragons just you watch dad look i'm going to get struck by lightning it's gonna be GREAT

anonymous asked:

Are you still taking cuddle prompts from the list you linked to? Early season MSR, #30

Cuddle alert! Set in season 2 between Firewalker and Red Museum. 

“Mulder!” Scully’s voice screeches as she watches her partner being shoved into the tiny closet almost hidden in the wall; his broad shoulders bump painfully against the frame before he disappears inside. The door is slammed shut and the faceless man turns to her; she raises her gun, her hands shaking slightly, but she isn’t fast enough. The gun is kicked from her hand, she screams, she bites, and before she knows it the closet door opens again and she is thrown against Mulder.

“I don’t need you Feds getting in my way.” They hear their suspect laugh from the other side before his footsteps are gone. Scully pushes against the door in the pitch black darkness and feels Mulder behind her, much too close, much too warm.

“Let us out of here!” Scully hammers her fists against the wood, kicks it angrily, until Mulder’s hands settle on her shoulders gently squeezing.

“It’s no use,” his voice is soft and his breath tickles her; he is just too damn close and she can’t see anything here. Her hands pause, unclench, and she takes a deep breath. “Save your strength.”

“For what, Mulder? He’s not just going to come back.”

“Skinner knows where we are. They’ll find us. He’ll kick our asses for letting a suspect get away, but he’ll let us out of here.” Mulder assures her with his hands still on her shoulders; Scully knows she’s tense and with him so close, she knows he can tell.

“When, Mulder? How long do we have to be in here?” She can’t keep the quiver out of her voice. Scully leans forward, tries to break contact with Mulder, but there’s just no room. She closes her eyes; this darkness, her own, almost a comfort.

“You know,” Mulder clears his throat behind her and she swears she can just about feel it, “this kind of reminds me of playing seven minutes in heaven.” He chuckles and she definitely feels that, his body seemingly coming even closer, his warmth indiscernible from her own. Scully appreciates his attempt to lighten the mood, but this isn’t a game and it’s far from heaven. More like forever stuck in hell. Stuck being the operative word. She takes a deep, shaky breath.

“I’m sorry, Scully.”

“This isn’t your fault, Mulder.”

“I’m making you uncomfortable. I’d say that’s my fault.” He shifts behind her and for a short moment his body is no longer touching hers. It lasts not even a second before he’s back against her; his chest pressing into her back, his legs aligned with hers. “There’s not much space here. I’m sorry, Scully. I’ll try to uhm, behave. And shut up.”

“Mulder, you’re not the problem.” Her whisper in this dark, quiet closet could have just as well have been a scream. He is silent after that and Scully is convinced she can hear him think. He is going through their files in his mind, searching for any indication why this is so difficult for her; it takes him a while, longer than she thought it would, and she knows exactly when he gets it. His gasp is audible, sounds painful in her ears, and almost immediately his hand is back on her shoulder.

“Duane Barry.” It’s not a question. “He- when you – when he…” Scully nods, hoping to shut him up.

“I’m so sorry, Scully.” His apology is different this time and his hand leaves her shoulder, lands on her back, and gently starts stroking up and down; Scully is uncertain if he’s even aware of what he’s doing. Ever since she’s come back, he’s been invading her personal space, making it his own.  Touching her at every opportunity; just a hand on her shoulder, a lingering touch on her back. It’s as if he’s still not sure she’s really here with him and he needs to make sure it’s her and he can still touch her, feel her under his hands. It bothers her, sometimes, but not now. This, she realizes, is not at all like when Duane Barry kidnapped her, put her in the trunk. Her hands tied up then, unable to scream, to ask for help. She’d yelled for Mulder in her mind repeatedly. This time he is here. She is not alone in the darkness. He is here and he is not going to let anything happen to her. He told her to take time off, to get better and she assured him she was fine. She was. Until now. So she doesn’t try to get away from him any longer, his strength and his warmth. Instead, she leans back against him, hoping he understands her without having to say it, without having to ask him to hold her. For a moment they stand like this; back to chest, otherwise not touching. Then Mulder tentatively puts his arms around her, rests his hands on her stomach, engulfing her completely. His head comes to rest on hers heavily, pleasantly and a sense of safety spreads inside of her.

“Is this all right?”

“It’s more than all right.” Scully lets him know, her gratitude stuck on her tongue, and puts her own hands over his; this time it’s her who needs to make sure he really is there and not just a figment of her imagination.

They don’t move, don’t speak for the longest time. Until they hear voices, frantically searching for them. Mulder’s hands leave her body, but not her, as they both hammer against the door and when it finally opens, the light blinding them momentarily, Skinner helps them out.

“Finally. We got him. He wouldn’t tell us where you were. Are you all right, Agents?” Scully feels Mulder behind her; he is not pressed against her anymore, but he is there, ready to jump in, hold her, keep her safe.

“We’re fine, Sir.” Mulder puts his hand on her back as they leave, at last, but they never speak of what happened while they were trapped inside there ever again.

nekocookiechan  asked:

Has no one asked for a story of Hawkmoth and chat noir being a team with ladybug being the villian? It would be pretty amazing to see a father son duo with ladynoir fight scenes. Hawkmoth could send out some assistance for his son.

No, from I knowledge no. And given I like this, here have a oneshot. Also, I’m soooo sorry, this had been in my inbox for over a week, but I was caught with school and had no drive to write anything at all >.> Also I feel like I made Marinette maybe a little to mean in this oops.


Chat didn’t hate Coccinelle. In fact, Chat didn’t hate anybody, not even the ladybug themed thief. But she was annoying him, exasperating him and he certainly had a dislike for his supposed to be partner. Or so he kept telling himself. But more often than not he wondered how would it be if the situation was somehow different. If they were partners like they were meant to be. But whatever alternative universes he might have been thinking off, were kicked out of him. Quite literally. He stumbled back, losing his equilibrium because of her hit. Goddamit, she had good legs.

(In more senses than one, but it wasn’t appropriate for him to think about that.)

The champion of the day appeared in front of Chat guarding him from the next attack. This one wasn’t his father’s best work, but isn’t like people lingered around museums in the dead of the night. The keeper of the museum was the only possible champion around and he wasn’t exactly eager to jump in the fight first thought.

“Oh, I’m not in the mood to deal with you. Can’t you two just chill and let me keep the dress?” she asked, in an almost bored tone, dodging the hits of the akuma easily.

“Why do you want it anyway? Isn’t like you can wear it.” Chat asked finally picking himself off the ground. Seriously now, the dress was a collectible, the first model of the little black dress created by Coco Chanel. That thing was almost 90 years old and extremely fragile. Isn’t like she could wear it at a party.

“Not all dresses are for wearing, you know. A rare piece sometimes just gives you happiness by simply looking at his.” she gave the champion a once over and scrunched up her nose. “Not that I’d expect you to understand.”

The temporary superhero, stopped dead in his tracks and Adrien could have sworn he just heard his father scream in indignation from the other side of Paris. Rolling her eyes, Coccinelle sighed, obviously bored by the entire ordeal.

“Oh, well, it isn’t you I want to play with.” and with that she round kicked the champion, sending him flying down four flight of stairs. Adrien winched. That must have hurt.

Coccinelle turned to him with a smirk, curling her index finger in a come to me motion. “Minou, minou, minou, come here and play with me, pretty kitty.”

Trying to hide his blush (She was beautiful okay? He could stay lost in those blue eyes forever), he attacked. Their fighting had been always more of a dance. Adrien knew enough about the cat and ladybug miraculous to know they were meant to complete each other. And it was quite obvious when they were fighting, Chat being swifter and more defensive while Ladybug was a force to be reckoned with, not pulling any punches. And while they were at it, well, it usually required a big mistake for one of them for the fight to come to an end. And for once, luck was on his side. He managed to catch Coccinelle, sizing her hands behind her back. She looked up at him, obviously surprised, before those really soft looking lips curled in a smug smirk. Adrien blinked in confusion. Why was she smirking? She lost. He got her. He could take her miraculous now.

But before even more question could pass through his brain, she got on her tip toes and captured his lips. Adrien felt his heart jump out of his chest. He closed his eyes, moaning against her mouth. She tasted so sweet, he could feel strawberry and vanilla and honestly, that must be what nirvana tasted like. He let go of her hands, rather pulling her against him and wrapping his arms around her waist. She moaned approvingly, then bit on his bottom lip. Adrien opened his mouth, allowing her tongue to sneak past his lips. Honestly, he could stay like this forever. But sooner than he would have liked, she pulled away from him.

“We should do that more often, chaton.” Coccinelle suggested, while extracting herself from his embrace. Adrien could only nod, his face still hot from the blush and his mind still fuzzy from how wonderful that kiss was. “See you later.”

She blew him a kiss, before grabbing the box with the dress and disappearing through a window, not before dodging the useless attacks of the champion. Chat Noir snapped too late from his little brain shortcircuit to realize what he had just done.


Adrien knew when his father called him in his office to speak with him, shit was about to go down. He looked up at his father, who studied him with a thoughtful look before he sighed.

“Well, Adrien, I think it is time for us to have a discussion about the hormonal drive of you, teenagers.”

Adrien blinked surprised, before the sentence was properly processed by his brain. “What?!”

“You know Adrien, the talk, the bees and all that nonsensical excuses parents like to use. Your sex drive had obviously taken a tool on you and it is affecting your performance as a superhero and it should be discussed why villans aren’t the proper people to share your sexual desires with. Look, I even got flyers.” he said shoving a bunch of coloured papers onto his desk.

Adrien was mortified. “FATHER NO!”

“How you teenagers are saying nowadays, father yes!” he adjusted his glasses before opening a flyer. “I’m also considering creating a quality condom line, had you seen the colours they use for these? No son of mine will ever use a neon orange condom, that’s so five seasons ago.”

Adrien slammed his head on the desk.

Woe is me, he thought bitterly.