listen to none

Eruri-cheesy-90s-romance-AU:

The whole setting screams childhood sweethearts. Levi takes Erwin out on a date on a warm summer night, in their home town or something. They go to the park or somewhere green. There’s some kind of small feast with a band and dancing couples, so they end up dancing awkwardly but very closely too.
Later they walk barefoot in the grass, shoes in hand, wearing nice shirts and maybe a vest, trouserlegs a bit rolled up. Their little fingers are linked and Levi walks slightly before Erwin because hes dragging him somewhere. They end up kissing in the moonlight, Levi’s hands framing Erwin’s face and Erwin’s hand in Levi’s hair and on his hip. When they part they giggle and smile a bit and share another soft kiss.
They stumble home in the morning, still smiling and softly laughing, shoes still in hand and shirts wrinkled because they kissed in the grass while watching the stars. They’re yawning between kisses and are so so tired and Erwin still hums a song they listened to while dancing.

I just want that warm fuzzy feeling that those awful 90s songs and films give you, just with Eruris.

2

“Back off, Ren! I’m TRYING to make my daily ANNOUNCEMENTS!!!”

Kylo interrupts the General during one of Hux’s daily intercom announcements to the crew of the Finalizer.

//i’m obsessed with Hux’s daily announcements (x) hux says that only people who are acting “suspiciously” should be detained… and the stormtroopers detain him! Why was he being so suspicious ? maybe a little kylux action on the bridge? #LET HUX LIVE 2017!

2

bringing out the big guns as the year changes. here’s to hitting 2017 with everything we’ve got. 

[listen here]

man I sure do wonder how Chloé, a girl without a mother who was raised by a powerful and influential and wealthy father only to be shown love and affection through material means which ultimately led to clear social akwardness and obvious issues in forming interpersonal relationships with her peers, would be treated if she was a boy

oh wait

It’s hard, sometimes, so unbearably hard for Ryan to stay.

There are days and weeks and months when he doesn’t think about it, where this crew is everything he needs, everything he could ever want, and nothing on earth could tear him away. But then there are those moments, terrifying and bleak and inescapable in a way the rest of the crew will never really understand. 

It’s a paranoia that seeps through, ideas he can’t stop himself from imagining. The way he thinks about the ease with which he could snap Gavin’s neck, soft and vulnerable, already tucked underneath his arm while the movie plays, explosions more than loud enough to cover any sound. The way the ever growing bounty on Geoff’s head is burnt into his brain, not temptation so much as reminder, this wanted man who doesn’t even stop to think about the danger of falling asleep in Ryan’s presence. About how easy it would be to mess with the explosives Michael gets him to hold, how no one would ever suspect anything but a faulty timer, a tragic accident. How Jack has him check her parachute when she doesn’t have time, blind faith that he would never let her fall. The unprotected slope of Jeremy’s back, walking ahead down the tunnel, utterly unconcerned by the loaded gun Ryan carries, unaware of the way his spine is in the sightline even with the gloom.

They’re not fantasies, there is no secret wish to hurt his crew, this mismatched collection of disturbing affection, it’s just the deep unshakable knowledge that he could. That nothing and no one could stop him if he were so inclined, not with how unsuspecting they are, how trusting.

They’ve forgotten, he knows, inexplicably forgotten all the ways that they are different, the ways he is not the same. This pack of junkyard dogs, who are scrappy survivors, downright vicious when they want to be, but not savage. Feral, maybe, but not wild like Ryan is wild, the wolf they have welcomed into their midst without truely understanding what that means. What he is. What he will always be. They’ve let time and familiarity blind them, dangerously desensitised by fondness, like they can no longer see his ruin. 

It’s not like it’s easy to miss. It’s not like outsiders don’t notice immediately. Maybe that sense of unknown dread, bone-deep wrongness setting off primitive alarm, is what has the Vagabond’s reputation spreading as far and wide and feared as it is. There’s something heavy and inescapable in being a real life bad example, being the one thing every man, woman and child is taught to avoid. To be known as pain, as violence, as death, to be inevitable betrayal before you even open your mouth. A relationship that ends in bloodshed before it even starts. The kind of stain that never washes out. 

Ryan has never really resented that part of himself before - he made his choices after all, created the Vagabond and relished in his rise; he’s only got himself to blame, but all of a sudden it feels like it has cost him something. Like all the guilt he refuses to feel has reformed into a different kind of punishment, an awareness that he cannot keep the best thing that has ever happened to him, that he’ll have to leave before this, too, is tarnished. Maybe he can play lost pet for a time but the wilderness in his blood is always calling, the lonely cry of the hunt keeping him up at night, relentlessly pulling him back no matter how hard he tries to resist. Ryan knows, in those moments, that this can’t last. That no matter how much he wants to stay eventually he’ll have to break away again and leave them all behind.

Except, whenever it comes up, whenever it’s all too much and Ryan is just secretly working out what he has to pack before he leaves, his crew goes and smacks him over the head with their feelings on the matter.

Those are the days when Gavin will look up at him, smiling so soft and sweet and terrifyingly harmless that it takes Ryan a second too long to recognise the blade pressing up between his ribs, or into the hollow of his throat or the base of his spine, freezing with a startling shot of adrenaline even as Gavin pulls back, eyes alight with wicked mischief as he laughs and skitters away, singing gotcha over his shoulder like catching the Vagabond unaware is a petty party trick.

When Geoff will take one look at Ryan and send him away on a long job, or pull him off what he was doing and keep him close to base instead. It’s incredibly frustrating; Geoff offers no explanation or remorse and the orders rarely align with what Ryan wants to be doing, but one way or another they always seem to be just the thing to make him shake off the restless jitters.

When Michael drags Ryan out to practise close combat and drops him to the ground over and over, defies Ryan’s greater size and usual physical dominance in a hurricane of fists and flashing teeth. The way he laughs and jeers and riles Ryan into true annoyance, into drawing blood, and still sends him crashing down as often as not, an oddly comforting display of bloody competence. 

When Ryan turns that cold detached gaze on Jack and finds her already looking back, eyes narrowed and calculating, thoughtful. A simple look that sends the same flare of shocking panicked fear through him as he gets when she lets a jet plummet from the air, laughing wild and reckless, ruthlessly jolting Ryan back into himself.

When Jeremy invites himself along on one of Ryan’s less savoury jobs, matches him hit for hit, threat for threat, nudges Ryan away and takes over when things get truly nasty. The way he leans into Ryan’s side and looks for critique when it’s over, as calm and friendly as ever, like this darkness isn’t the thing that defines them.  

This is Ryan’s crew. His pack of dogs demonstrating just how clearly they hear the call of the wild, how violently capable they are of keeping up. The FAHC, who fight tooth and nail and no regrets, who’ve dug in their claws and don’t plan on letting go, who’d go toe to toe with a wolf without an ounce of fear just to prove he’s already home.

It’s unspeakably hard, sometimes, for Ryan to stay, but leaving would be so much worse.

Dating Tate Would Include...

(Post Death)

  • Meeting in the murder house. That should be the basis of this whole thing. Be careful.
  • He would literally be like a pet waiting for you to get home every day.
  • “You’re home! I waited for you. What did you do today? Are you hungry? I made you some food…”
  • Lots of cuddling
  • Tate is the little spoon. Practically always
  • Music listening.
  • “Here, listen to this. None of that new shit.” “Oh my god, you are an old man, Tate.”
  • Him literally just sitting around watching you as you go about your day, doing work, chores. etc.
  • He is an actual cat?? (including the evil personality)
  • Very insecure so you’d have to constantly reassure him he’s amazing
  • Dirty talk all the time
  • Sex everywhere
  • Halloween becomes the only holiday you care about. Going to movies, places, traveling to places that you can go and come home in one day.
  • He’s kinda overbearing.
  • Super protective, even the mailman is kinda freaked out to talk to you tbh
  • “Tate, leave him alone.” “What?” [cue shit eating grin]
  • Sarcastic jokes, teasing constantly just to get a reaction out of you
  • So much sex
  • Dealing with Tate’s split personality
  • Being afraid of who he is, but standing up to him. This makes him snap out of it but he feels guilty every time.
  • Lots of apologizing.
  • Makeup sex.
  • Making love.
  • Keeping each other sane while living with the other ghosts
  • Tate introducing you to Nora
  • Nora thinking of you as the daughter she never had
  • Tate calming you down if the other ghosts make you start to question yourself and your morality
  • Hiding from everyone else together, listening to each other’s heartbeats
  • Knowing you’re complete with each other
  • Sorry, but….. Tate doesn’t age…. He tries to kill you so that you’ll be together forever. Make with that what you will.

person: *genuinely does their best to be a good, kind person*

someone on tumblr dot com: ummmm guys this person is super problematic because seven years ago they tweeted that they like hamburgers more than hot dogs.. 

7

esto es una tormenta, esto es el fin de nuestra confusión…

x 

moodboard for Pol Rubio and his first love [yes, he fell in love], Bruno.