So I went to see the mean girls remake today with my friend and we had already seen the original a couple of times so we had literally no expectations but then Regina George came on screen and bro when I say my whole self just short-circuited!!! Where was the warning??? The heads up?? The viewer discretion???? I'm too gay for this bro 😭
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Me, clicking on the blog in the reblog thread: 😊
Tumblr: Mature Content. This content has been hidden due to its potentially mature nature.
Me, clicking the "View blog" button: PFFT, dude, I'm 28, seriously, what haven't I seen in this world?
Me, opening that blog with a smile: ...
Me, scrolling that blog a bit further with a blank expression and a smile that rapidly fades away: .........h-huh...........
Me, closing that blog with regrets that I don't smoke: ...I guess I've had enough Internet for today...
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do you have a discord also HIIII!! HELLLO HELLO!!!!! HI HIHIHIHIHIHIHI
Hi, hello! I have discord- But not really a server for stuff-
Is that something people would like???
Like a discord server to chat and post art of stuff like popcross???
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i thought that native-level English means making no mistakes. In reality, it means making all the mistakes of an English-learner AND of a native.
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"Are you going to break my heart?"
Eddie almost drives them off the road.
It's late, nearly 2 am, and the country road is narrow and winding, and this thing between them, fingers twinned above the gear shift, radio turned down low, Stevie Nicks singing to them softly, is new. Eddie wants to live in this moment forever, wants the smell of lake water and dying August heat to live in their clothes, wants the warmth of first kisses and whispered confessions to last in tingling sparks in their skin, the memory of touch to be permanent. It won't be, it'll all fade, but Eddie can visit it again, rewrite them into the cotton and the softness of Steve's mouth.
It's late, and this is new.
"It's okay if you do," Steve says, so quiet. He's holding on to Eddie's hand like he's dangling off a cliff. "I can handle it. I'd just like a heads up, so I can prepare."
Eddie almost feels guilty, basking in his joy when Steve was sinking into something else. He thinks, if he were a kid still, if he hadn't died, hadn't lost everything and managed to get it all back, he'd be angry. But he's not. He's not, and he did, and it's late and this is new—but it's not unfamiliar. The same, but more, an extra free scoop with whipped cream and sprinkles, a cherry on top.
"You trust me?" Eddie asks. He rubs his thumb along Steve's knuckles, feels the scars under his skin, little tears in someone so perfect.
"Of course," Steve croaks. Eddie can't look at him, because the road is dark and narrow and winding, and he has to get his boy home safe.
"And I trust you," Eddie says, brings Steve's hand up, presses a kiss like a seal to his skin. "And I love you, and you love me. I got you."
Steve's quiet for a long, long moment. Eddie can tell he's watching him, so he presses another kiss to Steve's hand, lets his lips linger on hard tendons and dark veins. Kisses in his promises to the place they're linked together.
When he speaks again, it's soft, and Eddie can hear the love, living and leaving in the air between Steve's teeth.
"Okay," he says, giving Eddie everything. "You got me."
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