#this feels so surreal to post jesus christ
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twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)
HOUR TWENTY FOUR
in which you and eddie win the bet.
→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn
→ warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni
→ wc: 7k+
→ a/n: oh, holy fuck. holy fucking shit. i have no words, because i know it's not really over yet (we still have an epilogue, friends! don't forget that!) but... i did it. i finished another fic. that's just... insane?
thank you to everyone who has been so very kind and supportive of this fic. i owe you all the world. i'm sure i'll either make a sappy post between now and thursday, or i'll get extra sappy in the a/n on the epilogue, but for now - please know you have all my love. <3
masterlist.
spotify playlist.
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24:00 ─────────────── ㅇ 24:00
DINGUS: hey, i facetimed them for last hour’s proof. had to work out when they wanted me to head over and pick her up.
BIRDIE: both still alive? both still well?
DINGUS: so it seemed.
ARGYLE 😎: what a relief! I knew they had it in them
JOHNNY BOY: They still have to last one more hour.
NANCE: They’ll last the hour. Have a little faith, babe.
JOHNNY BOY: Still don’t like the fact we’ve just started calling them instead of requesting the photo proof. I mean, how do we not know they’re lying? Did you talk to both of them when YOU called, Nance?
NANCE: Yes, I told you guys that.
NANCE: Besides, you guys already know that Eddie hates having his picture taken. We’re lucky we ever got picture proof to begin with.
DINGUS: also i JUST facetimed them??? physically saw them?? your lack of trust in me and nance kind of hurts jon
BIRDIE: @NANCE hey can you call ME babe next?
HOUR TWENTY FOUR – 4:00 PM
“Hey there, love birds. Glad to see you didn’t kill each other.”
Steve.
You wait for Eddie’s arm to leave you, for him to put space between the two of you, but he doesn’t. He keeps you pressed flush to his side as if the sudden arrival of a friend doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference.
“Hey, Harrington,” he even casually greets first.
He’s making no move to get up off the floor.
Just a little bit longer. Let me sit here and live in this moment a little bit longer.
“Munson,” Steve nods to Eddie before setting his sights on you, “Doll. Nice to see you, kind of glad I’m not having to fish you out of the canals.”
You feel it — Eddie’s arm tenses behind you ever so slightly at Steve’s nickname. Clearly, it’s still a sore spot for him to work through.
“I was feeling generous,” Eddie shrugs as if he hadn’t just revealed a flash of jealousy to you. You’re not even sure if he knows that you felt it. But it was there, in the slightest tightening of his grip and the flexing of his bicep behind your shoulder.
“Generous? I think you were feeling friendly,” Steve waves his hand between the two of you, as if he thought he was pointing out the obvious.
If he thought this was close, he’d faint at the imagery of you on the kitchen counter, Eddie’s face between your legs as he begged for you to let him touch you.
Just as you had noticed Eddie’s jealousy, he notices the way you suddenly heat up, shifting in your seat ever so slightly. That pull on the corner of his lips tells you all you need to know. You kind of hate how easily the two of you can finally read each other. You kind of love the way he’s looking at you as if he’s thinking the exact same thing.
“Do I get my free punch now?” you finally speak up, tone flat as you muster a glare in Steve’s direction. You’re forgoing all polite and pretend oblivion.
Every single one of you here knows what happened. The bare bones of it, at least.
Eddie looks at you curiously, “Excuse me?”
Steve only grins, holding out his arms as if welcoming you, “Take your best shot.”
You stand quickly, and Steve even flinches. He clearly had thought it was all a bit, but you were deathly serious. After the night you’d had, you wanted to punch something, anything.
“Hold on,” Eddie fumbles to follow you as you stand in front of Steve, your eyebrow cocked as you pause, “Hold on, why are you punching Harrington?”
“Oh, I don’t know. ‘She’d never go for me, why would she go for you?’” you remind him, and fully expect for hurt to flash across his face. Instead, merriment continues to tug on his lips, “That ring a bell?”
“It might,” Eddie drawls, slowing down his movement to stand more casually, no longer in a rush to break up the fight. His eyes flash with something, with some sort of affection as your hand curls into a fist threateningly and you continue to glare daggers at Steve, “‘S cute to see you defending my honor, sweetheart.”
Your knees almost physically wobble. The nickname that once struck such anger and irritation in you has become your favorite thing, something that can so easily elicit such a physical reaction. Any taunting has dissipated from his tone when he falls from his tongue now. Adoration takes its place.
Steve looks between you two for a second before his face twists up, “God, I think I liked it better when you two hated each other.”
“Never really hated each other,” Eddie corrects Steve, but his eyes never leave yours.
“Right, must have slipped my mind.”
One of the questions that had been torturing you has now been answered — Eddie would, in fact, be acting differently around your friends. It’s almost enough that you feel no need to punch Steve.
Almost.
“Where do you want it?” you tear your gaze from Eddie, looking back to Steve now expectantly, “Cheek? Nose? Chin? Jaw?”
Steve’s eyes widen. “My God, have you just been dreaming of this moment for the last hour?”
“I have.”
Eddie leans back against the wall, still watching and still smirking as he crosses his arms.
“I know Eddie’s your boyfriend now but-“
“He’s not my boyfriend,” you correct him quickly, but something inside of you twists at saying that.
He wasn’t your boyfriend. You two had just agreed you’d need time apart before even thinking of exploring what this new chapter will bring you two. So why does it feel so wrong? Why do you suddenly feel like a pathetic teenager, desperate to bestow some cheesy title upon her crush?
Eddie nods when you suddenly look at him, as if he can read your mind, “I’m not her boyfriend. Just… her scary dog.”
Scary dog privilege. And God, does that moment feel light years in the past now. Years ago rather than hours ago. His promise to protect you suddenly rings truer now. If you ever did find yourself in trouble, you knew he’d answer your call. You knew now why his protection only extended to you. You finally, finally understood.
“Scary dog?” Steve squints at Eddie, and his judgmental demeanor has fully returned, “What the fuck does that even mea-“
He doesn’t get to finish the sardonic sentiment. The slap of your palm interrupts him.
“Ow!” he yelps out, head snapping from the force of the hit and hands already coming up defensively.
Eddie pushes off the wall the moment Steve’s hands are up in the air, “Lay a hand on her in retaliation, Harrington, and I’m breaking your arm.”
All the joking, cocky demeanor has faded. Like he had said — scary dog privilege. It applies to more than just pricks at the bar.
“I’m not,” Steve grumbles, rubbing at the red imprint now singing his cheek, “Jesus Christ, I said a punch.”
You fight a smile, “I don’t know how to throw a punch.”
“I can teach you,” Eddie pipes up, now standing beside you, hovering in your orbit.
“Don’t-“ Steve puts out a warning finger, “-encourage her. I only said you could punch me because I knew you couldn’t throw a punch!” he continues to cradle his face, now pouting at you, “Do you feel better now?”
You only answer with a triumphant smile. Because your palm is stinging, and you know violence isn’t the answer, but yeah. You do feel a little bit better.
“I don’t,” Eddie hums. He only has to take one step forward for Steve to back up, throwing out defensive eyes as he narrows his eyes, “Think I deserve to get a slap in, too, Stevie.”
“Fuck that,” Steve spits, eyes wide with genuine fear that makes you want to giggle, “You do know how to throw a punch. If I’m letting you get a free one in, I deserve twenty four hours notice.”
“Then consider this your notice.”
Is this what I had always been missing out on?
You always knew Eddie was playful with everyone, had witnessed how he joked with friends, but you’d never been included. The thought that this was the new normal makes your heart nearly burst. To be on Eddie’s side finally, to be in his good graces properly, makes you feel as if you belong more than any private movie night with Steve or impromptu dinner date with Robin. More than any night out with Nancy. More than any smoke session with Argyle, and more than any literature debate with Jonathan.
It’s as if Eddie was the missing link. You never felt you belonged, because you’d always ached for your rightful spot at his side, not just amongst the group.
The three of you stand in a makeshift circle and every single one of you smiles. Even Steve, through his slipping pout and swollen cheek, is grinning.
Suddenly, it’s not quite as heavy as it once felt.
Everything has changed. Leaving now is not leaving forever.
“I’d pay to see that,” you comment, taking a daring step to bump shoulders with Eddie. His eyes meet yours, his dimples come to life, and suddenly — you’re home, “Think I can get a front row seat to you beating Steve’s ass?”
Steve starts to protest but Eddie only nods eagerly, “I think that can be arranged.”
“I am once again reminding you two that I liked your screaming matches more than whatever this,” his hand flails, motioning to the way you two are standing closer to one another than you are him, “whole teaming-up-against-me bit is.”
“We’re not dating,” you’re reiterating as Eddie laughs out, “Stop being a crybaby.”
You look at one another again. Another foot in the door of your newfound home, another look into your new place to rest your head. It’s as if you’re just now realizing you’ve spent the entire year missing Eddie, even as he was right there in front of you.
“Well, God save us all when you two are finally dating,” Steve mumbles with a shake of his head.
“If-“ Eddie starts to correct, but you stop him.
It’s not an if when it comes to you two dating, you decide. It’s a when.
“I’ll send a gift basket when the day comes,” you snark. The look that Eddie sends you could heal every wound ever left behind, right then and there.
You’re home. When Eddie throws his arm around your shoulders and Steve rolls his eyes at you two (affectionately, even if he’d deny it), you know you’re home.
—
But then, you actually do have to go home.
You try to put it off. The three of you occupy Eddie’s living room for a while, Steve complaining about the way Robin woke him up endlessly throughout the night and how he never did finish that assignment due in his English Literature class. It reminds you that life will continue on; you have to go back to work and school, deal with daily annoyances that should seem bigger than all that’s happened with Eddie tonight, but they don’t. They all seem minuscule now, really.
“Do we still have to send photo proof?” Eddie asks once Steve’s tirade has waned. You’re sat between the two boys, Steve’s body turned almost completely to face the two of you while you and Eddie slowly sink back into the cushions.
You’re sure if Steve knew the activities that had taken place on this couch, he would not be sitting so comfortably. If at all.
Steve sighs at the mention of the bet, “You probably should. Jonathan’s been antsy about it the entire time. Me and Nance tried to cover for you guys, lying about calling and stuff but-“
“Why would you lie?” you inquire, uncurling a bit from your overly comfortable position to stop from falling asleep and actually participate in the conversation.
“Because, unlike the other idiots,” Steve gives a pointed look at you and then Eddie, “We had a hunch about what was going on here. And it’s about time, by the way.”
You think over his words for a second before you look at Eddie with sudden embarrassment, “Have you- Oh my God, have you been telling Nancy what we’ve been doing?”
“What?” Eddie sits up straighter, looking just as panicked, “No. No, absolutely not, I-“
“What have you guys been doing?”
Both of you ignore Steve as Eddie continues on.
“-just spoke to her on the phone once or twice. But I didn’t give her any details. Have you been telling Steve what we did?”
Steve, still being ignored, repeats himself, “What have you guys been doing?”
“Absolutely not,” you scrunch your nose at the thought of being that honest with Steve. You loved him, truly, but not enough to tell him about those kinds of things, “I’d rather sleep in the canals than tell him.”
“What have you guys been doing?”
Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up, and he mockingly stabs himself, “Ouch, sweetheart.”
“Not like that,” you backtrack, but more casually as the worry of Steve and Nancy knowing the truth, “I just meant-“
Eddie interrupts with a hand on your knee and a smile on his face, “I know what you meant. I’m just fucking with you. I feel the same way with Nance.”
“Guys?” Steve grows further impatient, “I- What the fuck did you guys do? Oh my God, is it even safe to sit on this fucking couch right now?”
“You don’t wanna know,” you say.
“No, it isn’t,” Eddie says.
It earns him a slap on his stomach as he leans over in laughter at the way Steve launches out of his seat.
“You guys- No. No fucking way,” Steve brushes at the back of his jeans, as if they’re contaminated, “Nope. No way. You’re just fucking with me, Munson.”
“Am I?”
Another slap lands on Eddie’s shoulder as he laughs harder.
“Steve,” you turn to your friend, trying to smile sweetly, “Sit back down.”
“No.”
“You just said you don’t believe-“
“We should get going,” Steve insists through his blush, “You two should take your final picture and we should get going.”
Eddie finally stops chuckling, leaning back up and against the armrest, his ankle cross in front of your shins as he stretches his legs out and sighs, “God, you should see your face right now, Harrington.”
Steve’s scowl deepens, “It’s not funny. Take the fucking photo so we can go.”
You make no move to dig out your phone, because you know. You know once you take this photo, you’ll be leaving, and this will all be over. Once you step foot back into that hallway, time apart begins. Learning how to navigate this new unknown with Eddie begins. It terrifies you, it saddens you, it exhausts you. You hadn’t been prepared for this part of the night.
Even before the confessions, you hadn’t given much thought to the ending of the twenty four hours. You’d assumed it would end in bloodshed and a larger than life fight, probably before the clock even ran out. You’d never assumed it could end in laughing, inside jokes between you and Eddie, in something not only bitter but also sweet.
“Phone, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers as he leans forward and holds out his hand with the palm up, “Before we traumatize the poor guy any further.”
“I will wait in the car, I swear to God-“ Steve starts to protest as you finally dig your phone out of your pocket.
You’re looking down, unable to meet Eddie’s gaze in fear of him picking up on your faint sadness, as you mumble, “Get your panties out of their twist, Steve. Jesus.”
Eddie snorts at that, right as you pass your phone over.
Steve doesn’t comment when you willingly tell Eddie the code to unlock your phone, or the way you let him hold it rather than you. He doesn’t comment on the arm that Eddie seems to constantly keep around you now.
He’s doing it while he can. Cherishing being able to hold you at any capacity before you leave and the distance begins. The time apart you two agreed upon won’t be for forever, but it still kills a buried part of him that had just begun to sprout roots again. A thing made of hope that he planned to tend to this time around.
“So, how do we wanna do this?” he asks in a strained tone, as if asking that question and throttling you two closer to the finish line physically pains him.
You hope it pains him, selfishly, because it pains you. “No idea.”
“We’ve gotta make it a good one.”
“We do.”
Eddie suddenly lights up with an idea as his thumb sweeps across your screen, opening your photos’ app and scrolling up to the first picture you two had taken at the beginning of this night.
“Up for a trip down nostalgia road?” he teases, wiggling his brows as he holds the phone up for you to get a clearer view of the picture.
Eddie, flipping off the camera and scowling. You, hardly smiling with a pathetic thumbs up.
“Yeah,” you breathe out, nodding slowly.
It’s unspoken, what happens next. The camera app is opened and Eddie returns your phone to your grasp. The two of you resituate to mimic the photo as closely as possible while Steve fiddles with some of the items on Eddie’s entertainment center.
You stretch out your arm, put your thumb up into view, blink away any tears burning the back of your eyes. Eddie’s hand has taken position as well.
You snap the photo before you can think too hard on it.
“Think that’ll be the winner?” Eddie curiously asks as you immediately bring the phone close to your face, swiping to view the snapshot just taken. And when you do, with the refreshed memory of that first photo, your heart physically aches.
Almost an identical image. At a quick glance, it’s the same Eddie and the same you from the first one. But the similarities fade the moment you look closer. Eddie isn’t scowling, not genuinely – those damn dimples are even making an appearance as his eyes were squinted up in a valiant effort to fight off the smile he wears now. And your smile, your smile, is no longer half-assed. It’s something real, something full, something even a bit sad. The same face you wear when saying goodbye to an old friend and trying to hold back any tears until their train has long since left the station. You can almost physically see your vines in this photo wrapping around the two of you, clinging so desperately to avoid any separation. Time apart. You’re regretting suggesting that now.
It’s a cute photo. A photo of two friends, if you could call yourself and Eddie that now.
“All done?” Steve interrupts the moment, both of you and Eddie only staring at the photo. You take a peak at him out of your peripherals, and you can see it written plainly on his face – he’s feeling all the same emotions as you. Something sad, something nostalgic, something reluctant. “Not to rush the process but… I may or may not have a hot date tonight to get ready for.”
Eddie tears his gaze from the photo, “A hot date?”
“A hot date,” Steve nods, a boyish grin gracing his lips, “And I’m picking her up in… t-minus…” he pauses, checking his watch, “Three hours.”
“Smart move. Charm her before I rearrange your face and all.”
Steve throws his head back in a groan, “You two won’t be letting that go any time soon, will you?”
“Nope,” you chime in as you swipe to open up the groupchat, not offering Steve a single glance until you’ve sent off the final addition of photo proof to the rest of your friends. You consider adding some sort of sarcastic comment, some well earned bragging and a boisterous told you so, but you don’t.
It doesn’t feel like you’ve won. Leaving this apartment, this battleground, with all the new bruises and healed wounds you’ve acquired over the span of the twenty four hours doesn’t taste like victory. Really, it tastes like… nothing.
There’s no victory, no solid ending for you to cling to. It’s simply ending and there’s still thousands of words you have to say to Eddie. You need more time, another twenty four hours, to fill with every single thing you never told him. More casual confessions of honesty, more hours wasted in his bed, more insignificant bickering to partake in. It’s all on your tongue and desperate for attention, and yet, you know you can’t succumb to it.
You have to go. It’s the last thing you want to do, but you have to.
Steve checks his phone when it buzzes with the notification of your message you sent and opens his mouth, no doubt about to comment on your lack of words with the message, but you’re already standing. It’s like ripping off a bandaid. You need to get it over with, get out of this apartment before you decide you’d rather sink right into these couch cushions and decay just to ensure you never have to really leave.
Eddie’s quick to follow.
“Let’s go,” you say to Steve, grabbing up your bag, not looking at Eddie at the risk of losing all composure.
Neither boy fights you, following you right up to the front door. Steve leads, opening it back up as reality slams you in the chest. As if there’s an invisible barrier here, and you know that in crossing it, you’ll be leaving a piece of yourself behind in apartment 2C.
Leaving now is not leaving forever.
But it sure does feel like it.
Steve awkwardly looks over your shoulder at Eddie, some silent communication you only see his half of as he shrugs and does a timid wave, turning to leave.
One foot hangs midair, your toes beginning to push through that barrier, when Eddie grabs you.
“Hey,” he breathes as he wraps his fingers around your bicep, forcing you to turn to face him. You let him, your body moving to his accord but your eyes still not meeting his, “You good?”
You take a deep breath in through your nose, “Me? Yeah. Yeah, I’m great. I’m… I’m good.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive?”
“Will you look at me, then?”
Reluctantly, so very reluctantly, your eyes meet his. Big, brown doe eyes. This close to them, you can see the way they shine to match yours. You both probably look insane to Steve right now, but you don’t care. Between the sleep deprivation and all the emotions you’ve had to experience over the last day, the tears are well earned.
You almost reach out and kiss him. You almost press up onto your toes and put your lips on his, almost pour every emotion you’re feeling in the moment into a far from innocent peck.
But you don’t.
“We did it,” you croak blandly, “We won the bet.”
As if the Universe is screaming in agreement, you can hear a chime in the distance signifying the hour. Probably the church you recall passing in the middle of the night when the two of you had ventured off to the parking garage. It almost feels as if it’s mocking you.
“We did it,” he echoes as his grip on your bicep loosens. You expect him to let it fall back to his side, nearly begging out loud for him to retract his touch from you so you don’t do something stupid like stay.
You swallow down thick emotions, just like molasses, “I guess I’ll see you around, yeah?”
Time. You two needed time apart.
“Yeah,” he sighs, as he does the one thing you had somehow hoped he wouldn’t yet yearned for ardently – the hand that had wrapped around your arm now cups your cheek, thumb stroking your skin so softly, you nearly melt in his doorway, “I’ll see you around, sweetheart.”
It doesn’t taste like victory, yet it doesn’t taste quite like loss. It’s bittersweet.
You still don’t kiss him. And he doesn’t kiss you, even as his touch against your cheek lingers so heavily before he pulls away.
You cross the barrier and find you were right. You feel that piece of you tear off and flutter to the ground, and you begin to wonder when you’ll have the chance to come back and reclaim not just it, but Eddie.
—
Steve didn’t speak much on the drive back to your dorm, and you’re sort of grateful.
If you were a good friend, you’d ask more about his date. You’d get him giddy as he spills the details about this girl and his plans for the night, chastise and tease him all in good fun. You’d be smiling and making plans for coffee tomorrow morning so he could tell you all about how the date went.
But you’re not a good friend.
You sit in your silence the entire drive, and you pick at your nails, and you selfishly stay focused on Eddie. On all of your own qualms and all your own issues, worrying about what comes next and already feeling your chest tighten the moment you start to think about when see you around will come.
The two of you never discussed that, did you? There was no discussion of just how much time was needed apart.
Steve shifts the car into park in the west lot, right outside your building, “Alright, stop making your cuticles bleed for two seconds and tell me what’s wrong.”
Your hands pause exactly as he requests, caught red-handed. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Something’s obviously wrong. I told you to go get him – and yet, he’s still not your boyfriend.”
“It’s complicated,” your voice finally breaks. There’s no tears this time, just confusion and desperation clawing at your throat.
Because, was it complicated? Was it really?
The last year was what had been complicated. All the pretending and the fights and the tension. All the false beliefs and all the lies overlapping with one another. That was complicated. But this? The feelings you harbored and finally acknowledged for the boy you just left behind?
That wasn’t really complicated.
And Steve knows this, you can hear it in his sigh, “I think that’s the issue.”
“What?” you turn your head towards him, scrunch your brows, even your breathing and try to shoo away the image of Eddie’s wet eyes.
You wish you would have kissed him.
“Look, i just think you two keep making things complicated when they should be simple-”
You didn’t want to hear it. Childish as it might be, you do not want to have to hear this speech. Because you know Steve’s right.
“I’ll see you later, Steve.”
“Wait-”
You don’t wait. You slam the door in his face once you’ve got your footing outside of his car, truly earning your title of bad friend.
Awful. You weren’t just a bad friend, you were an awful friend.
And yet you can’t think on it, leaving it be until you had the time to properly dwell on how you’d apologize later. All you care about now is getting inside your dorm, moping and being miserable on your own. Your strides are longer and faster than they were even when you’d backtracked to Eddie’s apartment, determined to get behind closed doors and to properly mourn all that had been gained and all that had been lost in the last twenty four hours.
Twenty four hours ago, you were reluctant to even step foot in Eddie’s apartment. And now, it’s the only place you really want to be.
Luck refuses to be on your side as you slam into your dorm room, sweaty and tired and just fucking emotional, only to find your roommate there. There will be no dramatic crying, no cinematic scene with your back pressed to the door as you fight back sobs, it seems.
“You look rough,” is all she notes, sparing you a second glance before she returns to whatever she was tasking on at her desk. Her makeup, you think.
Good. Maybe she’ll be heading out, leaving you to suffer alone like you wanted.
“Yeah,” is all you can answer her as the door clicks shut behind you.
Rough’s a good way to put it.
“Think you’ll be here tonight?” she asks, still distracted, “Troy and I are hanging out today – he spent the night here last night, by the way – and if you’re gone again, I was thinking about inviting him back over. Only if you’re cool with it, or already have plans, though. Our RA has this final and I didn’t even have to sneak him in last night-”
She continues on her rambles, never looking your way as you drop your bag onto your bed, and quickly lift yourself to lay right next to it.
Normal. You were having to go back to fucking normal. Your worries were no longer revolving around Eddie or making it through the next hour, no longer preoccupied with keeping your friends up to date in order to ensure a payout of five hundred dollars – now, you just had to worry about boys named Troy and possible room checks by your RA. Finals to be taken, essays to be finished, shifts to be covered at the diner so you’d have enough cash to go out with your friends next weekend.
You should be relieved. But it all just feels impossibly heavy.
Your roommate catches on quickly, and when you only reply to let her know you’ll be here tonight, she stops talking. She focuses on finishing her makeup and gathering her things, hardly even offering you a goodbye as you shift to curl up more comfortably in the center of your mattress.
You should also know better than what you decide to do next. You can’t help it, though, as you tug your phone out of your pocket and unlock it. You don’t listen to the voice inside your head that screams stop as you click on your photos’ app. Ignore the animal inside that whines as you scroll, and you click on the very first photo of you and Eddie.
It’s painful, but you have nothing better to do in your solitude. You don’t linger on the first photo too long, still being fresh in your mind, before quickly swiping along.
The set of matching photos you and Eddie took of one another, black and white socks covering touching toes visible in each one. You nearly laugh at the Darth Vader figurine both of you took turns holding. You nearly cry when you realize you were, in fact, smiling in your photo. A small one, a forced one, but there nonetheless.
The selfie from the bar, your amaretto sour and Eddie’s whiskey & coke lifted towards the camera. The way both of you had tried to look annoyed, over exaggerated and furrowed brows paired with pouting lips. Your thumb swipes subconsciously over the photo for a second too long, and you’re startled when you realized it was a live photo. The moment after the photo was taken, Eddie’s eyes had moved to look at you. And in that live photo, you watched every ounce of annoyance evaporate. Leaving behind something you recognized now. Leaving behind eyes sparkling with a brief glimpse of adoration.
There’s something else you better recognize now in the next photo. The picture you’d taken when Eddie had locked himself into his room, only opening up long enough to insist you took the photo, the one that guaranteed you your money. You had been right – there was a flood of regret on his face. You hadn’t imagined it. But you had also been wrong; he was never looking at your own rotted vines and mourning them; he was looking at his own, tethered and shredded, regretting that he had ever taken an axe to them. You don’t press down to see this live photo. You don’t want to witness that door slamming in your face again.
The two photos taken in his bed. The one in which both your faces are scrunched from the flash, in which you can see the physical wall between you two. And the one in the dark, where you both wear tired smiles, unaware of the night to come.
The photo on the bike, a helmet mostly covering your blushing cheeks, but not Eddie’s.
The photo from the parking garage, meant just for you two.
The photos from Betty’s. You don’t linger on the one of you; you do linger on the one of him.
Each swipe only makes your heart ache more viciously, painful and sharp reminders of the night you had had. You don’t have to press down on another single photo to witness the live outplay of it – each memory is running through your mind in real time as you retrace your steps of the night. Twenty four hours, twenty four steps. With each photo, you watch yourself grow more relaxed, watch smiles come easier without your awareness and finally pinpoint all the care Eddie had been looking at you with the entire time.
You notice the lack of photos from the last few hours. You nearly scorn yourself for it, but there had been no time. There was no time for memories frozen in time amongst all that hard honesty and those sacrilegious revelations.
Except there was one more moment in time frozen for you. You’re quick to exit the photo app finally, leaving behind that picture of Eddie with full cheeks only to open up your text messages.
Your text thread with him. Filled to the brim with bad pastry jokes and underlying need. You remember that urgent want to comfort him, to remind him he was enough. To erase all the hurt and all the old scars caused by a life from before your time with him you still hadn’t become fully privy to.
You’re still rereading the last message, bet you wouldn’t say that to my face, when suddenly a new message appears.
EDDIE: Make it home okay?
Space and time. They are the last things you want, that you need from him right now.
YOU: yep. my roommate just left.
EDDIE: Is your dorm bed as comfortable as you remember?
YOU: like sleeping on a cloud.
You wish you were still in his bed. You wish you were back at the beginning, with him rather than all alone.
EDDIE: Oh shit, you’re trying to sleep? Sorry
EDDIE: I’ll stop bothering you and leave you to it. Sweet dreams.
No, you nearly scream at your phone screen, come back and bother me. Bother me for the rest of my days for all I care.
You’d never sleep another wink if it meant having him. You remember what you told him about starting over, starting fresh. And maybe taking a much needed nap would offer that. Maybe sleeping for more than thirty minutes at a time would be the smart choice, letting you awake with a clearer mind and better intentions.
But you don’t want that. The animal inside still clings to all that has happened.
Something about that makes you brave.
YOU: i never said that, and you’re not bothering me.
EDDIE: Didn’t you say you wanted a nap earlier?
YOU: that was earlier. i’m wide awake now.
An internal battle continues to take place. Your mind whispers liar, knowing damn well that if you put down the phone and turned your cheek to bury into your pillow, you’d be out like a light within seconds.
EDDIE: Ah. I see.
You fiddle with your thumbs for a second, stomach churning as you try to come up with a response to keep the conversation going. Technically, when you had said the two of you needed time apart after all that had happened, it should have meant interactions like this as well. Texting each other was not offering each other space.
But he’d started it. That was on him.
YOU: do you remember what i said about space? and starting over?
EDDIE: I do. I’m not very good with giving you space, it seems.
YOU: well, considering you’re on the other side of town, i’d say we’ve got the physical sense of space down.
There’s a pause in his replies that causes you to sit up. A falter. You curse him for not having a smartphone as well, for not having the privilege of being notified whether he was just taking his time typing or if he had put the phone down. You really hoped it was the former, practically wished upon every star that that was what was happening. You hoped he was glued to his phone as you were yours.
Maybe he still had that photo he’d taken a few hours ago, the one you swore you’d heard him take as you dozed off. Maybe he was still staring at it like you had done with all of your photos.
EDDIE: About that…
You stare at the message, the hidden meaning behind it completely lost on you.
YOU: About what?
EDDIE: I’m not home right now.
Your heart clenches.
YOU: You’re not?
EDDIE: I’m not.
YOU: Eddie, where the hell are you right now?
Your mind reels with all the possible choices. He could be at the bar, at the parking garage, at Nancy’s place. He could be anywhere.
But then he only sends a picture in response, and you know where he is.
You nearly topple into three other students from how you sprint down the hallway. You don’t even grab your key to your dorm room, skipping the elevators and nearly throwing yourself down the few flights of stairs in haste. You don’t care how your lungs cry out, you don’t care how your thighs burn, you don’t care how your shoulder aches from how roughly you slam open that front door of the building. You don’t care about the strange looks you get on your way out. You don’t care about the odd angle you twisted your ankle in on that last step.
The only thing you care about is the boy standing there, helmet off and balanced on the seat of his parked motorcycle that he leans on, arms crossed as his eyes light up at the erratic sight of you.
You don’t even check for any traffic in the parking lot as you make your way to him.
“I’m sorry,” he calls out once you’re close enough to hear him, “I know we said give it time and shit, but you left, and I just-”
He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence.
When you make it to Eddie, you’re in no business to carry anymore regret with you. This time, you don’t just yearn to kiss him, to wrap your arms around him, to pour out all those emotions you were feeling across tongues.
You do it. You kiss him, uncaring for all the stares of fellow students. He nearly falls backwards into his bike from the force of you colliding against him, but he’s quick to catch himself as his hands find your waist.
“You-” you pull back, gasping a bit to start to scold him before his lips follow and interrupt you, “Fucking-” Push and pull. You retreat, and he follows, “Idiot.”
His hands squeeze around you, tugging you a stumbling step closer so that your chests are flushed against one another.
“I am,” he mumbles against your lip, the tip of his nose grazing over your cheek as he refuses to let anymore distance be put between the two of you, “I am a fucking idiot. I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.”
His hands cradle your face and he kisses you this time, reaffirming that he felt everything you had. All those words you hadn’t said, all his own admissions he’d withheld, spill between clashing teeth and eager lips. He takes your breath away, shamelessly, greedily. And you let him. You offer all the air that’s left in your lungs up to him on a silver platter.
When the two of you finally pull apart, eyes opening wide and foreheads pressing tightly to one another, he’s grinning like a fool.
“So, I had a better idea than time apart,” he murmurs, “What if we just… start over?”
“Start over?” you question wearily.
He nods, “Yeah. Just… Just pretend this last year and all our bullshit didn’t happen. Start fresh. Let me not be a massive dick this time.”
His hands drop from your face as he takes a step back, taking you in fully. You want to shy under his gaze, but instead you can only melt. His fondness is a warmth like no other, capturing you by the crown of your head and pouring down over you in waves.
“Okay,” you finally agree, feeling your own cheeks spread and ache in a lovesick smile. Coming home, that’s what this felt like. “Okay, we can start over.”
“Great,” the homecoming warmth only spreads as he straightens up his posture. A very serious look overcomes his face, laced with determination for a brief second until he relaxes it into a friendly smile, doleful eyes meeting yours as every single flower he had ever planted in your chest blooms like a spring morning. He sticks his hand out, nearly making you snort, “Hi, I’m Eddie.”
You can’t help it. His front door is open, a warm glow within welcoming you.
You ignore his hand entirely as you impulsively reach up and interlock your fingers at the nape of his neck, tugging him into you for another kiss.
He pulls back far too soon for your liking, but his hands have also found their spot against the small of your back, “Do you greet all the new strangers you meet like this?”
You roll your eyes, “Shut up.”
He pulls you back in for a chaste peck, and it tastes like home.
“I like you,” you whisper into the limited space between the two of you, “I mean it. I like you so fucking much, Edward Munson.”
He grins, cracking your chest wide open with hope, “The feeling’s mutual.”
taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777
taglist is now closed.
#my writing#twenty four hours#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fanfic#this feels so surreal to post jesus christ#thank you guys genuinely for all the love#i will be making a sappy post before i post the epilogue on thursday#i just#wow#yeah#i did it#again#i finished a fucking fic
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28/3/2024 Oberhausen, turbinenhalle
GIG REVIEW, DIR EN GREY mode of withering to death.
Since the m&g was at 6 and the gig didn’t start till 8 it was a bit of a long wait.
Luckily they started right on time!
It was just surreal to see them again and so up close, RAHHH. Shinay wore a white dress jacket and black trousers. Kaoru wore a beautiful 3 piece. He later took off the jacket so we could see the waistcoat and billowy shirt underneath better. Die wore his black dress/leather shorts combo with a red and black thing over it for most of the show. Toshiya wore his sparkly black dress with the leather boots, gosh, so pretty!! And Kyo was in his black adidas tracksuit. Tshirt underneath and a necklace over it. He wore 2 rings on his left hand, pinky and middle fingers, I think. He wore a white/blind contact lens in his left eye and his right was normal. Had the bald head with the extensions on it and the make up he did for most of the shows. Ah speaking of make up- Kaoru had two little vampire fangs drawn on him!! It was so cute.
I don’t know the exact setlist. I’m sure someone has already posted it but I think it was the same for the other Withering shows. It was just amazing to hear these song live and the music was good and Kyo was audible and RAAHH it was just so, so fucking good.
They seemed really energetic and especially during Jesus Christ R ‘n R Kyo was interacting with the crowd a lot. He took out his earpiece to listen to us sing and also shouted ‘Sing!’ at us at the ominous communication part. AHHH. It was amazing! I think I spotted the tiniest crack of a smile on Kyo’s face.
The others switched places during playing which was very nice! They just all seemed to be in good spirits. I also saw Kaoru singing along with a few songs and so did Die and idk why but it just made me immensely happy.
I’ve worn blind/white eye lenses before and you can’t see much out of them so Kyo only had 1 good eye during the show. He had moments of looking into the crowd but I noticed he spend a lot of time singing with his eyes almost closed for a good while. I can relate, I couldn’t help from closing my eyes from time to time to just feel the music, even though I didn’t want to miss a second of it. He also danced to a few songs, and after having seen them live for quite some years, to me it felt like he generally had a good time and good live. His voice was also SO good, gosh. How that man has grown (figuratively, bwhaha).
They ended with Akoru no oka (my heart) and it was quiet a moment before Kyo just said BYE BYE in the mic and left the stage. Shinya threw his drumsticks and the other 3 stayed a little longer to throw their water bottles and plectrums. Kaoru threw one of his weirdly on the otherside where we were standing and I think it bounces off the barricade or something!? But it made him burst out in laughter and that was so nice to see ;o;
Die nearly killed someone with his bottle throw LOL, and after that we gathered ourselves and it was time to get ready to leave and head back home. I just felt filled with joy, and still do the morning after. So happy I decided to go and also finally chance the meet and greet.
Feel free to repost pictures, but please credit!
#dir en grey#oberhausen#mode of withering to death#dir en grey europe tour#kyo#kaoru#toshiya#shinya#die#diru#deg
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Whooooo! I found ya! Down to business:
Are there any fic recommendations for baggin/shield or pitch/frost that you like(d)?
I am absolutely feral
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand…..
What are 3 of your most favorite fics that you’ve ever read?
Ya found me! Let me say that the notifications of someone going through old fics and commenting are ambrosia. You are a treasure and a saint of a person!
And oh man I had to dive into my old bookmarks for these! I'm good at remembering snippets or vibes of fics but not the fics themselves. I will warn that a lot of my fave pitch/jack stuff tended to be pretty dark. It's not like, a thing I regret or say is wrong, and I still enjoy/love a lot of it! I was in a dark place mentally and that reflected in the stuff I was reading and creating. Who actually has a good time in their early to mid 20s?
Mostly warning because most of my stuff since then skirts the edges or flirts with the darkness but doesn't feel that need to go deep diving.
Second warning is there may be less here than you'd think! The more I write for a ship the less I read, because my brain gets very dumb and the self doubt gets Real Bad. This is all non-exhaustive of course! I wouldn't even say this is my Best of The Best it's just what's coming to mind at the moment. There's way more in the AO3 bookmarks
Pitch/Jack fics
In the Dark - series by @charmed7293 romancing the monster under the bed is maybe not always the best idea
The Syntax of Programming Languages, and, Why Some Code Talks in Accents - by Midievil. I'm biased here bc this was a gift fic inspired by my The Device Has Been Modified, but it done showed me up bc it was written by someone who knows more about actual coding than me
Shadows and Light - this series by @not-poignant is The Classic of the ship. Since you liked Things That Were you'd most definitely like this one. And unlike me, Pia actually finishes things!
I swear to God there were a lot of fics by @insufferablearchanist that I loved but they nuked their old AO3 and I can't ever remember shit.
Thorin/Bilbo fics
Prayers to Broken Stone - @avelera the beauty and the beast flavored au you didn't know you wanted
Comfort in the Sound - by northerntrash. Ok. Yes. It's Bilbo/Thorin/Bofur but like. Trust me on this. Road trip throuple shenanigans
Patchwork Robe - @hallsofstone2941 I am not immune to stupidly adorable modern college au one-shots
Possession - aljira. You liked Sanzigil, you'll like this :)
Marriage in the Manner of Dwarves - series by diemarysues
Other Fandom Faves (that come to mind. I've been reading fanfic since like 2002 ok there's a lot that has made impressions over the years that I just lost track of dkdjdk)
Taking Everyone For A Ride - by Nonymos. Venom/Eddy+Anne/Dan. typical Eldritch shenanigans plus polyamory. Unhinged and weird, just how I like em
The Only Way Out Is Down - @avelera Newt/Hermann. The second PR movie was so bad I wanna erase it from my memory but my god did it spawn some AMAZING fics, including this one that rewired my brain
After Zero - by what_alchemy Newt/Hermann. A bunch of delightful smut
The Wine Dark Sea - @moorishflower Dream/Hob. Siren! Dream au. Jesus Christ. Holy fuck. Goddamn. Gorgeous, monstrous, surreal, Unhinged4Unhinged behavior. Listen. I work with octopuses. I know what their arms feel like and that has ruined almost all tentacle shenanigans for me ok?? This fic got past that hangup.
If I Please You - @moorishflower Dream/Hob. It feels like a modern retelling of an old medieval fairy romance goddamn
And finally. This series. The series.
So. I very recently refound this series and I'm almost hesitant to post it. Because as I was reading it again I kept having to put it down and sit in horror at the realization that I read this fic when I was in college and it actually rewired my brain. I realized everything I have written was trying to recapture what this fic did to my synapses. I was chasing after vibes that I did not realize originated in this fic for me. Me sharing this risks everyone who reads it and has read my stuff also going "ooohhhh you're just doing this again huh?"
It is the very specific combination of "Character A: openly unhinged, obsessive, violently romantic and unnerving/Character B: seems so chill and just happily rolls with CharacterA being insane, because they are also secretly insane." It's the combo of a codependent bonkers relationship with humorous banality of their day-to-day.
It's also a Johnlock fic.
Anyway, The Paradox Series rewired my brain so deeply that I didn't even realize it rewired my brain until over a decade later. I swear I have been unaware of how much my writing has been leaning on what this did to my brain.
#fic recs#i cannot stress enough how non exhaustive this is dkfjdkdj#refound the paradox series like a month ago and kept having a fuckin crisis about it to my friends#like UH OH IVE JUST BEEN SNATCHING THIS FICS ENTIRE VIBE THE WHOLE TIME
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hi everyone i watched all the (minecraft) tazercraft shorts at once at 4am and i decided to make graphs about it
they have a recurring theme? i suppose? that i'm calling the "always save your-" series because that's along the lines of what a lot of them are titled (also note that none of them have any speaking it's just various songs playing)
these were like. very surreal to me in my sleep deprived state but basically the concept is: they are both digging down and then one of them finds diamonds and either one of them makes the other move so They can get the diamonds (thus dying/almost dying to the lava) or someone else shows up (for eg: cat in below images) that they have to save which means they doom the other to the lava. or. idk there's so many variations hence the graphs
graphs and stuff below the cut:
graphs 1 and 2 are fairly self-explanatory i think. usually everyone lives, and it's interesting to me that pac is the one saving mike more often than mike saves pac. counting the time both of them saved someone, mike has saved other people the same amount that he's saved pac whereas pac is mostly only shown to save mike. no one else apart from them (unless it's everyone in the scene that one time) dies
offscreen death vs onscreen death (graph 3) is interesting to me because a lot of the times when they're saving someone else the other person just fucking dies. they don't even show it. sometimes you see a bit of their dead body float into screen the way minecraft bodies fall to the side when they die but sometimes they're just gone. i know it's only 3 times but i can't remember the exact numbers for that and can't be bothered to check
NOW post-death (4) is interesting to me because jesus christ. why did they do that. not good for my sleep-deprived mind. two of the times mike dies they show a post-death scene where pac is mourning him. both times it seems like he's very unable to move on from the death because they give him grey hair nd stuff implying he's grown old. the second time he actually builds a house + grave around where mike died in the cavern and just. stays there forever i guess
MIKE however in the one post-death scene he gets builds a grave + laboratory around where pac died and invents time travel to save him. interesting! i feel like you could tie this into their qsmp characterisation somehow but that's a diff post
and just some sillier ones. (graph 5) they often have like… i don't know what the games are but those horror kids games or whatever. poppy's playtime you know. show up in these videos as well as like… things to be saved from? so it's not all lava that's killing/almost killing them. also (graph 6) herobrine shows up a little bit which i mostly categorised because of their whole past series with herobrine and whatnot. most of the time he is just there in the background some times he does stuff
this is just one of their series and maybe i'll make more graphs categorising the others. i mostly just made these for funsies for myself because i like graphs but eh sharing because who knows maybe other people will be interested. their shorts mostly all seem like tiktok trends btw and types of videos repeat a lot ^ like the one here with a little variation each time
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✈ - an eye-opening memory
Your name is DAVE STRIDER, and you are SEVEN years old.
It's another day. Funnily enough, it's one of the few where you aren't constantly getting your ass handed to you in the Houston heat.
Dirk usually took these opportunities to scrounge up food for the house. That was always pretty cool of him. He seemed way better at being a self-sufficient coolguy than you. You suspect he shares his bounty with you to shove it in your face. Well, one day, YOU'LL be the cooler of the two.
As for you, you know what they say. Or rather, what you say solely to yourself for whatever reason: your room's your sanctuary. Basically all that you can take care of, you can do in your room, so there's not even a reason to come out half the time. Unless, of course, you're interested in testing your FRANKLY SHIT ability to not set off traps and get smothered with PLUSH ASS. You'll save that for when you have to piss, thank you very much.
Days like these are for feeding crows, making tunes, and updating your LATE GRANDPA'S WEBCOMIC.
Sweet Bro And Hella Jeff. Truly the greatest inheritance of your short life. The moment you turned six, your BRO shoved you in front of Dirk's computer and schooled you on your legacy of irony and post-surrealism. You enjoyed the movies and web series you were spoonfed by both of your bros growing up, so you were more than happy to take the metaphorical hammer of Thor—or in this case, CAR of DUNKASS—to carry on the single best series ever created.
You pored over the ancient texts, artifacted the shittiest of jpegs, smelted the dankest of panels. Basically, if your grandfather was GOD, you're JESUS FUNKING CHRIST.
You started posting pages a few months after your task was given. And so you've worked, for nearly two years now, at that.
It's something you're pretty proud of, all things considered. It's fun to have something to connect you with your departed g-pa. You wonder if he would be proud if he took a peek at it now. The internet sure has gone nuts over it, so you're basically a natural, right?
Rule one of Striderdom: don't get distracted.
You clearly forgot it. Headphones on, dappling your MSPaint canvas while jamming to some tunes. You basically left yourself wide open.
Doesn't stop you from startling when your door, which you thought you locked, is suddenly as gaping as the asscheeks of a certain jar freak.
You shove your headphones down to your shoulders, face-to-face with Lil' Cal, hanging off your Bro's shoulder. He's right next to you.
You nearly expect a call to arms, but your eyes flick to what he's got. Bunch of letters and packages.
Your mouth asks what all this shit's for. He says it's for you.
Oh. Oh, shit. For real? What the fuck?
Your excitement was too obvious. Lil' Cal's jaw unhinges, clacking about in a silent laugh. Euch.
And just like that, they're both gone. As quick as they came.
...huh!
You fidget a bit with the mail on your desk. YOUR mail. You never got mail before... time to take a look.
Fanmail. SBaHJ fanmail? Yes, SBaHJ fanmail!
Fanart, little trinkets, even a Geromy plush that you don't hate all that much, honestly.
Letters suggesting new strips. Calls for another movie. Compliments on the new work!
Though no bounty is without its curses. Parts of this selection are obviously hate mail.
'New shit sucks. Just kill em off at this point.' Weird.
'Never reading this again! Hella Jeff's favorite color is obviously red, not purple. You clearly don't know what you're doing.' Wait, seriously?
'If the stairs come back I'm killing myself' Huh?!
'We should totally meet up! I'm eight years old too!' One year off! Kind of weird!
'Why haven't you made a statement for or agaibst the Alternian Empire like legitimately you disgust me.' Oh come on...
...wait, is that his address?
You stare at this blatant display of parasociality and, frankly, don't know how to feel. You don't think your lungs are working right.
The price of fame is steep indeed...
#ooc#answered asks#command prompt#sideblogstation#stalking tw#suicide threat tw#typical strider past trauma tw
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sam we haven’t spoken in probably ten years but I need you to know the smith college problem post has me in tears the fact that it has so many notes is destroying me I am laughing so hard jesus christ
TAYLORRR no okay first of all whenever i see you in my notifs im just internally like 'omg.... hiii taylor.... its been so many years... LOVE that we're both still on here'
BUT SERIOUSLY ITS SOOOO.... every single popular post with a Smith mention on this website is an instant one shot kill to me like. between that Smith College Problems post and then the whole Smith College Girls for I-D Magazine 2004 thing... it just feels so absurd and surreal every single time
#on the one hand i KNOW it's a well known school. but on the other hand its like... we had our high school graduation#in a building on that campus what do you MEAN people on here talk about it too
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hi i haven’t posted in a while and ive been on here intermittently it’s nice to see that some people have found my account and liked my posts i genuinely didn’t think anyone would see these but here are some life updates
1) i never was able to afford my tuition and am taking time off while i work
2) i’m still seeing that guy i posted about months ago and jesus christ he’s fucking perfect i’m so in love with him also he doesn’t know about my tumblr though maybe one day we will go through it together but it’s cringe honestly anyway he is pretty dominant but doesn’t know much about bd/sm (again idk if tumblr will censor/suspend me) but he did agree to go to a local membership bd/sm place for education they have classes and seminars which is good because i want to be with someone educated before we engage in anything more than we have been doing but also let me brag real quick THIS MAN KNOWS WHAT HES DOING the shmex is so good oh my god it’s always double digit O’s and i love him so much he’s a biker and the helmet pix are so hot and the black compression shirt and grey sweat pants combo has me fighting for my life i always feel like i need my inhaler when i see him like that but i am so in love with this man i hope i spend the rest of my life with him genuinely i adore him and he treats me so well
3) i had previously mentioned avina st graves’ books i became friends with the author and am also a beta reader for her she has written more books and her writing has me in a choke hold the book skin of a sinner by avina st graves has scenes in it that i helped write and it’s so surreal to have my ideas in a book that so many people have read and are reading it’s insane
4) my life honestly fell apart for a bit but i wasn’t alone to pick up the pieces my boyfriend helped me i’ve spent most of my life alone and very independent so having someone in my life telling me to stop and not worry because he is going to take care of it and me is something i’ve never experienced before and it’s truly a blessing
5) i’m still disgustingly broke and spending all my money on books and paying bills
6) my father actually put me in a shit ton of debt that i didn’t know about until i started getting phone calls saying i owed debt collectors money and i am utterly fucked on that front
anyway that’s all i know so boring and again no one will probably see this but i sometimes find solace in writing these and posting them
#no one is going to see this but i post regardless#at this point this is a diary#updates on my life#avina st graves#boyfriend#biker boyfriend
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A Response to July 30, 2017
Thursday, March 30, 2023
I’m writing this, 5 years later, as I try my hardest to finish this Geography of Hazards essay at Lait Night, in the Dead of Night, that was due yesterday (of course, some things never change). I knew around 5pm or so that I couldn’t fulfill my wish of finishing it on time, so instead, I fucked around online and got obsessed with e-paper screens with a fast refresh rate, so I could build my own computer with no wifi and just a word processor like the Pomera DM250, so maybe this can be the year I can reign in my dysfunctional, unorganized mind. Only this year I do very wholeheartedly feel like this can happen, with or without the Pomera. I’m extremely confident in my hopes and dreams this year, believe it or not.
Like all fine procrastination sessions go, I end up back on my old Tumblr. And I end up reading the post above, and I’m at a loss for words. I don’t know what to tell her, I don’t know how to describe how awful, wonderful, scary, gut-wrenching, and euphoric the past 5 years have been.
First of all, did you know that you have to pay to not see ads on Tumblr now? I have Big Girl money now so $40/year isn’t that bad, but jesus christ. It’s a constitutional freedom to be able to see pictures of sonic’s feet without interruptions. The memes became better on Instagram, then Twitter for a bit, but now I’m back here to see what this old piece of shit has to offer. I’m lying, I’ve always felt a soft nostalgia for Tumblr.
Anyways, back to debriefing you about everything. I’m pretty sleepy, and won’t have time to tell you about everything, but last year, your boyfriend’s cancer got pretty bad. There’s a distinct line drawn in February 2022 that signals a clear Before and After, and its more distinct and inerasable than all the other lines that you’ve ever drawn. I remember the old passive suicidal thoughts we used to have. Sort of related, but Fiona Apple once said, re: speculations about if any of her songs were about her childhood rape, that “It doesn't get into the writing. It's a boring pain. It's such a fuckin' old pain that, you know, there's nothing poetic about it." That’s kind of how I feel about them now. The anxiety and misery and pain of that time, Helen, was real. It was more real than anything, I remember. And I wish I could take it away from you. But I’m also here to tell you that it’s such an old, old pain now. I’ve wringed all the poetry and romanticism out of it that I can, and I can really say that with time, either it transforms into something lighter to carry, gets absorbed into your personality, or time slowly erodes it away like it’s paleolithic rocks in the sea.
Either way, I can say that .. I don’t really think about it all that much these days. Maybe it’s really because it’s wormed its way so deep into my brain that it’s just one of the flesh parts now. Who knows? Regardless, after reading about the pain from all those years ago and comparing it with how differently I think about it now, I think it’s a bit bittersweet. I know I desperately wanted it to end. But I think, it’s always been a bit surreal to imagine that pain not feeling as real anymore, to be a “thing of the past”. And now that it is/might be, I feel more distant from myself.
We wish desperately for a rebirth but don’t realize it means leaving the comfort of who we always were. And even if it does end up being better, which it is ... it feels like letting an old friend go.
Speaking of going, I think I’m extremely sleepy now. I hope you’re sleeping well too, thouugh I know this was the summer before 1st year uni and you definitely weren’t sleeping right haha. By the way, you end up dating K. And he ends up becoming your first real heartbreak. Broke up with you a month into university, probably for J. But J’s a really nice girl and you both don’t deserve what you guys went through. You still wish you never dated him, but that’s the way it goes - lessons learned, life to live. And don’t worry, you handled it like a champ. And I’m not saying this because I pity you. Everything’s going to be ok. And you can trust me when I say that.
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Adios from Elder Millar
I apologize that this is being posted so late. I had a lot of difficulty with my mission phone and I lost a lot of documents on it. I already had a final weekly email typed up, but due to those phone issues, I was unable to retrieve it for over a week.
Hope y’all are doing well:
I am currently on the plane going home and the pilot has just announced that we are descending into San Antonio. It feels surreal. I’ve often wondered if I would wake up and it would just be another day on the mission, but it’s really happening. I’m going home. If I had hours to talk about my mission and all I have learned, I would, but for now let it suffice to say that my mission has meant everything to me. It means everything to me because I came to know Jesus Christ. Throughout my life, prior to my mission, I learned about Jesus Christ. I knew stories from the scriptures. I knew I needed Him, and I knew that He could forgive my sins, but that is about all I truly knew. After serving alongside my Savior over these past two years, I have developed a personal relationship with Him. I feel a little bit like Nephi who in his final words referred to Christ as “my Jesus” (2 Nephi 33:6). To me the Savior is no longer just a historical figure or someone I grew up learning about. He is my Jesus. I bear testimony as His representative that He lives. His life did not end on the cross, nor did His work end following His resurrection. He stands even now on the right hand of the Father as our living Advocate, pleading for us day after day. He loves you. Turn to Him and find the greatest amount of joy, comfort, and support you have yet experienced. I invite each of you to make it a goal to come to know Jesus Christ on a personal level. The path to do so will be unique to everyone, so seek out personal revelation, but I have two suggestions you might consider that have been life-changing for me on my mission.
1. Study the Doctrine of Jesus Christ and live it.
My conversion is deeply rooted in the Doctrine of Jesus Christ, or the core truths He taught: faith in Jesus Christ, repentance through His Atonement, baptism my immersion, receiving the Gift of the Holy Ghost, and enduring to the end. These may seem like simple, basic truths, but they are the only way by which we can come to know Jesus Christ, and in turn have the hope for eternal life. As I studied the Doctrine of Christ I came to know the Savior and I recognized these are not a series of steps or things to check off. Rather, those five points are a pattern for daily living. Study about them and see what difference it makes in your life.
2. Repent daily.
Repentance is for far more than just big sins. Repentance means applying the grace of Jesus Christ through His Atonement and overcoming our weaknesses in whatever capacity that is. I have found so much joy in repentance. Through the act of not just accepting, but applying the Savior’s sacrifice daily in my life, I have become a better person and developed a relationship with Him. Repentance brings joy—it is not meant to bring us down. At times there will be guilt and godly sorrow, but repentance takes that away with time and effort. Repent daily. It’s the best :)
The plane is landing soon. I promise each of you as a representative of Jesus Christ that as you seek to come to know Jesus Christ you will find greater happiness and help in all aspects of your life. He is our Living Savior. I give all glory and thanks to God for the time I have had to serve Him. I know God lives. Jesus is the Christ. The Book of Mormon is true. Joseph Smith was a prophet of God, and President Russell M. Nelson is God’s prophet on the earth today. I bear testimony of these things in the sacred name of Jesus Christ, amen.
Love you all! Thank you for the prayers and support over the last two years.
Elder Millar signing out.
My phone also deleted all my photos from the last day of my mission.
I only have this one with President and Sister Smith. I love them :)
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med school starts.. tomorrow (!!)
The last post I put up here was about 3 weeks ago but with all that's happening now, that feels like an eternity ago. Med school is starting tomorrow, and it still feels surreal.
I didn't really get the break I was hoping for prior to starting med school. My official last day of work was on the 24th of June and I had only planned to start locum work in August after settling down in school and everything. But due to some miscommunication, I literally started my contract the week after my resignation. It's good though, because this is in a way God's provision for me. Locum work pays decently, and I had been, and am still, stressed about finances. But I've managed to earn a little over $2000 in these 2 weeks. This is God's grace.
It's still crazy to look back on this journey and how the hand of God has been so ever present in my life, even in times when I was far away from Him. This time last year I had just finished taking the MCAT and was putting it all in God's hands. I dared not even imagine that one year from then, I'll be starting med school.
I feel this burden that perhaps the Lord has placed on my hard - which is to glorify Him in my good works. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven. (Matthew 5:16) - this is referring to being light of the world. And to act out these verses which were spoken at church today, Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18). I shall enter this new season of my life with the words that my Father God have placed on my heart.
I was contemplating if I should have came to church today, but I'm so glad that I was moved and empowered by the Holy Spirit to do so. I really wanted and felt it was important to really go back to the presence of God before I began this new chapter of my life.
Tomorrow, things will change. It will be the start of my new life. It's not a 4 year post-grad journey, but I think it'll be a lifelong journey as a medical doctor. There's a ton that I have to do now, so I'll end off with a prayer:
Father God,
My heart has indeed been in Your sights long before my first breath.
I'm so thankful for Your grace, which overflows. Like Your Word says, "For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast" (Ephesians 2:9)
You have placed me here for a reason. So help me God, help me be Your good and faithful servant. I am an inherent sinner, but I am also Your daughter. Help me, help me to bring glory to you through my good works. Help me to love you with all my heart and all my strength and help me to love me neighbour as myself. Help me to always be close to you. Amidst the busyness, may I not lose sight of you, Lord. Help me to continually be inspired and empowered by the Holy Spirit. Help me to never be wise in my own sight, and to lean on You for understanding, for in doing so, You will make my path straight. This were the verses that You have laid upon my heart while I was preparing for the MCAT and for med school (Proverbs 3:5-6).
Lord, I also pray for my friends and colleagues back in KTPH. May your grace overflow to them as well, Lord. May their remaining time at KTPH be fruitful, and I pray that they were find strength in one another. For Your faithful servants who are still there, help them be Your disciples and bring others to You. Empower them to be brave and courageous, yet docile and gentle, in sharing the Good News. I pray that the hearts and eyes of the unbelievers will be opened, just like how You opened mine.
I pray too, for my family and friends. Lord, as I get busier, I pray that they will not feel distant from me. I pray that they will have the assurance that I still love and care for them, no lesser than I did before starting med school. Most of my friends have not known You, Lord. And I know that these things happen in Your perfect time. Lord, I pray that You will use me as Your vessel to bring about these good works. I also pray that You will take care of them, and keep them safe and healthy.
I also pray for my classmates and the faculty members at Duke-NUS. Empower them and give them strength, to pull through the difficult times ahead. Help them Lord, to remain grounded and not lose sight of You. Help us all, to be Your salt and light in wherever we go, be in at school, or in the wards. Help us too, to reach out to the unbelievers and do Your good works as a body of Christ.
Thank you, God.
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The Number I
Chapter 51: She is Driving A Car In This One Whoa
Alright let's kick this pig.
A lot happened since this thing last updated! I got COVID, had surgery, there was a failed government coup, and most importantly, several major sequences of this fic have been written in advance, both to expedite update speed and allow for less shitty storytelling.
Also, apparently y'all were still reading this thing while I was gone? So there is roughly a metric fucktonne of fan content you guys produced for this fic! Which is fucking bonkers to me.
SO let's go down the line here:
@shinjikari drew some absolute fucking bangers, including a couple of high quality memes that have absolutely no business being this good. As well as this incredible rendering of the events of chapter 1, and this mood piece that got put up literally yesterday (they both have sound!!!). Cloud can absolutely feel dorcelessness.
There's a second vibes piece here from @fury-brand (who in addition to making incredible art was also absolutely instrumental in getting this chapter made, along with @terror-billie, @tofucasserole, and countless others.
EDIT 2: FUCK I FORGOT THE CAR RIDE I'M SORRY BEL
Very surreal drawing of Cloud and Zack by @dantes-funky-inferno, this is so fucking good and Jesus Christ I'm so sorry it took this long to get to it 'cause hot damn.
@yuquiitas drew SO FUCKING MANY holy shit bruh so I'm just gonna list them off here in brief or I'll run out of characters, please check them out because there is so much character in all of them.
This excellent comic that is 100% canon.
Doodle of Cloud and Vincent plus thrilling sequel.
Cloud and rat friend.
Not one, and not two, but three renditions of Cloud and Hojo.
Diary of a Guy Who Ate Four Dudes
A couple collections of doodles.
I lied here's more.
Missed a spot.
Some extremely choice cross sections of things that also 100% happened in the fic.
Weird dude in scrubs.
Cloud, Aeris, and Zack ngl I think this might be my favourite one lol
And last but not least, quality memes.
Denebola Leo also made me a meme thank you.
I am absolutely sure I forgot some, there really were that many. (If I did please let me know so I can add them here, I am honoured beyond belief y'all made these!!!) Same goes with betaing, and also this is gonna be a nightmare to also post on tumblr due to all the links so I'll get that done later lol.
And of course, as always, this chapter contains some depictions of graphic violence and gore.
Good to be back.
Cloud hallucinates. Voices sometimes, or music – it’s hard to tell. It’s just another consequence of Jenova’s encroaching presence in his DNA, and four years after Meteorfall everyone’s more or less adapted to it and other oddities associated with being not quite human. Mostly.
What begins as a chance encounter with something that isn’t Jenova soon leads to a fight for survival that can no longer be contained in the spaces between numbers, as Cloud tries to keep himself together and finally put his past behind him.
(We’re in the home stretch!)
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Meditations on Playing as Earthlings in Dragon Ball Xenoverse, Part 2
(previously)
The Dragon Ball Xenoverse games allow you to play as five races: Earthling (the default selection), Saiyan, Majin, Namekian, and the elegantly named "Frieza Race", with the first three races having an additional choice of gender. Compared to the Dragon Ball games mentioned in the previous post, Xenoverse probably differentiates the most between race/gender combinations. Each has a drastically different basic moveset that will be extremely relevant in combat, especially for strike-oriented playstyles, each have different stat spreads (and sometimes mechanics) that incentivize different playstyles, and arguably most importantly, each have their own unique techniques, the centerpiece of which is the race-specific Awoken Skill.
For context, in the first Dragon Ball Xenoverse, there were two problems with transformation skills like Super Saiyan and Unlock Potential. First was that they counted as Super Attacks, so you would have to give up a skill slot to make use of them, and second was that the transformations available to your character consisted of Kaioken, Unlock Potential, and variants of Super Saiyan. So like past Dragon Ball games, you weren't especially rewarded for playing a non-Saiyan character, since it meant you had to run Unlock Potential (or run a gimmicky Kaioken build), while Saiyans could at least nominally choose between that, and multiple variants of Super Saiyan that suited their playstyle.
This was remedied in the second Xenoverse game with the addition of Awoken Skills, which were transformations that occupied a separate slot. More importantly, Xenoverse 2 also added race-specific Awoken Skills, which meant that there was actually a compelling reason to pick races besides Saiyans.
In theory, at least. In practice?
Frieza Race characters probably gained the most in the sequel. Their Awoken Skill, Turn Golden, is relatively straightforward, both from a gameplay standpoint and an aesthetic standpoint. Your ki blasts are stronger and you do the Golden Frieza thing. Much like the form in the series proper, it's a bit dull and uninspired as a body recolor, but it is identifiable as a powerful transformation.
Namekians gained the ability to Become Giant, hearkening back to King Piccolo in the original Dragon Ball (and I guess Lord Slug in the movies), which as I understand was a fun transformation to use before it got nerfed in subsequent patches. Currently, it's a neat gimmick that's fun to mess around with and can be effective in bursts, but the stamina drain means it can't see the extended use that just about every other Awoken Skill can.
Majin gained the wildly unpopular ability to undergo Purification, which translates into becoming a Kid Buu with a special moveset. A Kid Buu that, mind you, only changes its skin and eye color as appropriate; regardless of how you customized your character before the transformation, your Purified Majin is going to look basically the same as any other Purified Majin, which is kind of a problem in a game where a significant portion of the userbase's interest in the game is at least partially in coordinating outfits for their player characters.
Earthlings got to ride on a Flying Nimbus and use the Power Pole.
The race-specific Awoken Skill for Earthlings is riding around on a cloud that kinda already loses a lot of its luster when, by construction, all characters can fly, and wielding a weapon/tool that hasn't been relevant since the original Dragon Ball. It's a nostalgia play that basically no Earthling character is going to use extensively, since you can't use your own skills and are limited to a moveset that loses its visual and gameplay novelty in minutes, at most.
It should be mentioned that Saiyans, as of the time of this writing, have access to five variants of Super Saiyan.
(Caveat that I can't speak for the PvP side of these evaluations, and quite frankly, I couldn't be bothered since Xenoverse PvP seems thoroughly unappealing, but I digress.)
So yet again, even when concessions are explicitly made to make playing non-Saiyan races an appealing alternative from a gameplay standpoint, Saiyans are still the clear winners and Earthlings are still clear losers. Furthermore, there's at least an argument that the non-Earthling Awoken Skills at least invoke an image of power as understood in Dragon Ball. For all the shortcomings of the Namekian and Majin Awoken Skills, you can at least point to King Piccolo and Kid Buu as signifiers of strength. If anything, the image of Goku on the Nimbus with the Power Pole is reminiscent of a time when Dragon Ball was significantly less concerned with displays of power, which is kind of counterintuitive when it's invoked as a method of attaining greater power.
Put reductively, it's kind of a bummer, but then again, isn’t this dynamic, of Saiyans being given the lion's share of power and relevance while Earthlings get virtually none, the most Dragon Ball shit ever?
Hindsight has only made Videl's presence in the early parts of the Buu Saga all the more fascinating. For that run of episodes, all the way up to the World Martial Arts Tournament, the degree to which Videl is an active participant and outright combatant in the action is kind of surreal. It's not entirely without precedent, since Chi-Chi had her moments in the original Dragon Ball and the occasional moment in Z, but unlike Chi-Chi, it really does seem like Videl's perfectly content to be this active for as long as she's around. What's more, the show explicitly makes reference to her being wildly more powerful than her dad, who himself is established as of legitimate world champion caliber, and it even goes out of its way to have Gohan teach her to fly. While that scene is absolutely primarily meant to set up her true purpose in the series writ large, there's a pretty good correlation in Dragon Ball between "people who can fly" and "people who can at least fight a little".
Then, of course, Spopovich happens.
I'm not particularly interested in litigating post-crisis Videl here, since it's been discussed plenty, and yeah, I also think it's more than a little bit of a bummer. But knowing the trajectory of post-Z Dragon Ball, especially Super, it makes Videl's irrelevance on an action level kind of an inevitability? Like, yeah, maybe if she bounced back harder and played a larger role after the Spopovich fight, you maaaaaaaaaaaaaaybe could draw a line to her at least being comparable to the likes of Krillin, Tien, and Yamcha, but given the reality of modern Dragon Ball, would that be anything more than a pyrrhic victory?
So really, when you consider that the frankly ridiculous power scaling of Super is really just the logical extension of the scaling in Z that was already well underway by the Buu Saga, it naturally raises the question of why they bothered to even make Videl this much of an active force in the first place. From square one, she's arguably destined to be relegated to Gohan's love interest and future wife, so why go through the effort of showing the audience that she's stronger than every Earthling that's not a Z-Fighter? It does parallel Chi-Chi's strength in Dragon Ball to help further foreshadow her pairing with Gohan like Chi-Chi with Goku, but then why make her be that into fighting when Chi-Chi was always clearly content to be a housewife?
And like, Jesus Christ, all that only to be that definitive with that Spopovich fight?
I bring Videl up because my main created character in Xenoverse 2 is a female Earthling. Ever since I booted the game for the first time, there was no doubt in my mind that I was going to primarily play as a female Earthling, because with it came the knowledge that I was going to control a female Earthling doing and achieving some frankly wild shit, like going toe-to-toe with Final Form Mira, literal deities, Jiren, and Ultra Instinct Goku(?!?), sometimes back-to-back in certain Parallel Quests.
And of course I can, because that is the entire reason for the Xenoverse games' existence. The game has always been an unabashed power fantasy all about defeating some of the most powerful entities in Dragon Ball history with your own created character on your own terms.
And yet, as I do all of this with my female Earthling, the knowledge that in canon, the most powerful analogue to my character is Videl, a character who almost literally gets the relevance beaten out of her in a brutal and unforgettable manner, makes the experience feel almost rebellious. It feels like everything from the godawful Awoken Skill to the subpar race/gender stat distribution for a strike-oriented build to the very nature and history of Dragon Ball itself is working against my character becoming a ludicrously powerful force of nature, and yet I not only can, but literally must push through and go even further beyond.
I cannot emphasize enough that this sense of transgression has no basis at all when it comes to the game. Absolutely nothing about the Xenoverse games explicitly suggests that Earthlings, female or otherwise, are somehow destined to be strictly lesser than Saiyans or any other races. Again, the game is an unabashed power fantasy; it's going to let you achieve that power fantasy regardless of race or gender, because to do so otherwise is completely antithetical to the entire reason people play the game in the first place.
But looking at past Dragon Ball games, at least to me, makes clear that they really didn't have to include the option to play as an Earthling. They clearly feel no obligation to do so, since they've excluded it in previous games. They completely dodge the need to include a human-like race option with the existence of Saiyans, who aren't even differentiated by the presence of a tail. I genuinely don't think any significant number of people would have even batted an eye over the exclusion of Earthlings. ‘Cause, you know, it's Dragon Ball, why would you play as an Earthling?
But they did. They let you choose to play as an Earthling, a race that Dragon Ball has essentially been drilling into your head, for years, is a strictly less powerful and less interesting version of Saiyans with practically no upside. They gave you the option, and I took it, all because it effectively let me play out an extended Videl what-if by proxy and stretch credibility into complete, unrecognizable nonsense.
I recognize that this absolutely reflects more on me and my relationship with Dragon Ball as a whole than it does on Xenoverse, but when it’s the only Dragon Ball game that embraces customizable characters to the extent that it does, it’s necessarily going to be the only game that actually lets me grapple with that tension between the source and the spin-off, and reckon with how that can shape the audience’s experience and perception of the bigger picture.
#dragon ball xenoverse#dragon ball xenoverse 2#xenoverse#xenoverse 2#dbxv#dbxv2#xv2#dragon ball#dragon ball z#dbz#videl#videl satan
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Food for thot.....Richie getting rug burn on his face from getting pounded into the carpet. Yes its before an interview and yes its is from a tiktok but I don't know anyone that would appreciate this like u would. Thank u 😔
no, thank YOU!!! WOW!!! I know @pineapplecrushface wrote about Eddie having face rug burn in this post here and it’s such a funny concept I want it for Richie too.
Like, the heat comes from the fact that they couldn’t even wait to move to the bed. They’re cuddling on the couch, sweet kissing turns hotter, heavier, they’re rolling off the couch and knocking shit over on the coffee table, wrestling like they always used to. But now Eddie’s shoving himself up and noisily ripping his belt through the loops like grabbing a snake by its head behind the metal fangs. Both of them panting and swearing and laughing, Richie goading him on like c’mon slugger, c’mon baby, let’s see you go the fuck to town, except he gets more than he bargained for because Eddie’s going NUTS like I wanna, Rich I really fucking wanna, on your front, your knees, let me, and Richie’s already trying to turn over, kicking his pants down his sweating thighs and grinning so hard he can hardly reply back yeah yeah yeah fuck me through the floor, Eddie, ‘course I’ll let you, you can do anything you put that batshit little mind to.
And y’know, Richie grabs a leg of the coffee table for purchase but that’s getting shoved across the floor with the force of it too. Movie’s still playing. Feels briefly surreal, the sound of a chic Soderbergh heist chopped up roughly between the louder sounds of fucking, and of getting fucked. His other hand’s ripping scores against the pile of the carpet, knees are burnt, glasses are nearly bent against his face until he pushes them up and off and Eddie takes them away because his hand is there, suddenly, grabbing Richie’s fucked up hair like he can’t bear not to be touching him everywhere for reassurance now that Richie can hardly see.
Eddie’s everywhere, the glide of his thighs and the scrape of his shoved-down jeans burning open the insides of Richie’s spread legs, the stretch and pressure angling down tight into his stomach as Eddie presses his cock balls-deep and yanks hard on Richie’s hips at the same time. Pulls up, buries himself hard in Richie’s body and holds him there for a moment to grind the ridges of his abs right against Richie’s lower back, mossy with dark hair flattened to his tailbone. Eddie moans between his shoulderblades and Richie chokes into the carpet, Eddie holding him fast and pushing, pushing, socks rasping against the carpet to brace themselves.
It’s one of those fucks of a lifetime, every time he swings his feet up next to Eddie’s on the coffee table he’s gonna remember how he was so glad Eddie kept him face down and ass up, cause otherwise his entire dick and balls would be chafing a slick band of precum into the carpet too, burnt and red as their skinny little forearms got as kids, when they’d attack and grab at each other with both hands, twisting opposite directions til it hurt, because violence was the only way to touch each other with an audience back then and apparently the habit takes some breaking.
Now they’re good at breaking all their worst habits together. They can touch each other gently, even in public. After Eddie’s rubbed him raw against the floor and come so hard in short, sharp, knocking thrusts that left him shaken and incoherent against Richie’s aching shoulders, after he grabbed his own discarded shirt and, still hard and throbbing, coaxed Richie to buck his cum into it instead of the carpet—he smooths some aloe vera into Richie’s stinging cheek. They were still both naked and dripping, but he insisted.
Eddie’s always achingly sweet when he feels he’s gone too far, still sometimes forgetting there are ways to love each other rough that aren’t cruelty, and ways to care for each other soft that aren’t coddling.
It’s nice though, nostalgic for the times spent just the two of them, when the need to compete against and for each other’s attention waned and Richie could make a production of kissing Eddie’s twisted forearm better. Big smacking kiss between the red imprints of his own fingers, to match the burn in Eddie’s face as he grabbed at Richie’s noodly arm to give one back, never to be outdone.
“Hold still,” Eddie murmurs now. “I’m kissing it better.” He cups Richie’s other cheek and draws him down to kiss long and slow where the arch of his dark stubble turns an angry pink underneath. Puts his other arm around Richie’s shoulders and kneels there next to him on the bed, held right back around his waist. Gentling his lips all over Richie’s face.
“You kissing me better, baby? You little sex demon.”
“Yeah. You feel better?”
“I always feel better now. You kissed me all better.”
“Loved you all better.” Eddie turns him so he’s kissing at Richie’s broad, smiling mouth. “God. Gross. I love you so fucking much.”
“Ghh-huh. Ah. I love you, Eds.” For a moment Richie stares at him, helpless. One of his eyes always squints up harder when he grins, but Eddie likes being able to see the crinkly corners when Richie’s not wearing his glasses. He strokes them. Richie makes a tiny noise. “And they say I’m the sap.”
“You’re a fuckin’ pine tree.”
“Yep!” Richie sticks his tongue out gleefully, straight into Eddie’s mouth.
“Don’t say it—!”
“You climb me, and I get you all sticky!”
Eddie wheezes as Richie nuzzles into his shoulder, tightening his arms around Eddie’s waist. His sore cheekbone is hard and hot against Eddie’s cooling skin. “What are you—giggling about?!”
Richie falls back to the mattress, tugging Eddie down with him. The breath shudders through Eddie’s punctured, healed chest like there’s still a hole there and he squeezes his eyes shut against Richie’s collarbones. He shakes with it sometimes, how much of this he gets to feel and have and keep to himself, overwhelmed giddiness lurching his stomach out miles above his body. That’d be bad. He’s already lost a couple organs just for loving Richie Tozier, but the difference is—he can live without the organs.
Eddie squeezes Richie’s thigh between his own and hides his crumpling face in the fuzzy ditch of his broad chest, in case Richie thinks he’s upset and stops laughing.
He pinches the soft give of Richie’s tricep. He’s hugging Eddie so tight, his little yelp buzzes Eddie’s ear. “What are you fucking giggling about!”
“I have—I have that promo thing tomorrow, I’m gonna look like I made out with a brick wall!”
Eddie’s jostled with the gusts of Richie’s laughter. He keeps his eyes closed. He supports Richie’s career, he really does, but no matter how hard he tries Eddie can’t seem to stop providing juicy fodder for talk-show stories. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, it’s okay, you can get them to cover it up before—”
“No! No way, and pass up walking out there like Harvey fuckin’ Dent because my hot as hell boyfriend railed me across the floor like a lawnmower?”
“That doesn’t—you don’t fuck lawnmowers, how do you fuck a lawnmower!”
“Very carefully! You sound like one sometimes, though, Jesus, how you get all revved up. Okay, something about carpets matching drapes, or—wait, wait, Dented? Harvey Dented? Dented my ass, or something, there’s a joke there, I promise—”
Eddie gives in to the snort building up in his sinuses. Richie’s whole face is pink with happiness when Eddie levers himself up onto an elbow for a look at him, not just the rug burn like a strawberry birthmark blooming from his temple to his jaw.
“That’s weak shit,” Eddie says. Richie’s grin only gets wider when he sees Eddie’s laughing too, so Eddie nudges a kiss against his endearingly goofy-ass overbite. “Two-Face is obvious. You wanna do a Batman joke, it’s gotta be like—you wanna know how I got these scars?”
Richie shrieks with laughter at Eddie’s nasally Joker (really just an imitation of Richie’s, and thank fuck it’s improved from sounding vaguely Pennywise-ish, that’s a real mood-killer) and piledrives him over into the bedspread. “Genius! Genius, holy shit, you know it gives me such a boner when you do Voices! You wanna know how I got these scars? Well, one day, Daddy Kaspbrak came home all riled up and wanting to play—”
Eddie pretends to gag though his laughter, rubbing at the backs of Richie’s squirming thighs with his heels like a cricket. “Do not call me Daddy Kaspbrak when we’re naked—or ever, what the fuck—”
“Whipped his belt off—”
“No!”
“Hey Eddie, you wanna know how I got this jawline?” Eddie’s careful with Richie’s sore cheek, even as Richie’s gnawing at his throat. Cups his hand to it for protection against Eddie’s own stubbly jaw. Then Richie’s groping at one of Eddie’s asscheeks, lifting his thigh, and, shit, looks like this afternoon might be a twofer. “Do ya, Eddie?”
“Fine, how?”
Richie waggles his stupid eyebrows. “Lemme show you the workout!”
“Oh, Christ—don’t hurt your face,” Eddie gasps, but Richie’s already moving south.
-
The host asks about Richie’s face—obviously. It had faded a little from that vicious red, but not enough to escape attention, especially since his entire shit-eating demeanour was clearly begging for enquiry.
“What happened, man, you get in a fight?”
“No—no! Look at me, dude, I can’t even get heckled without being like yeah, you’re right. Y’know, you’ve got a point. If someone tried to fight me I’d probably join in.” Richie grins and glances at the camera. “Nah, I’m more of a lover.”
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Life of the Party
Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers
Summary: Hiding from the latest threat to New York isn’t exactly how you wanted to meet your soulmate, but it will be a funny story to tell later. Much later.
Quick facts: Romance – Bucky Barnes/Reader – Nondescript Reader
Warnings: Soulmate trope where the first words you say to your soulmate are written on their skin, gun-related peril that is glossed over and doesn’t result in anyone getting hurt, Reader and Bucky are awkward dorks
Soulmate words: “Don’t relax; we’re not safe yet.” and “Boy, you’re a real party, huh?”
Words: 1510
A/N: Everything sorta fell apart this week, writing-wise, but all is not lost– I have a little collection of random sentences I made into soulmate prompts and I’m finding them in the strangest places as I search for something else. I might post more of them as one-shots if this block continues, hard to say. For now please enjoy this little fic starring Bucky and Reader, featuring Steve Rogers as Excited And Supportive Mom Friend.
~
Living in New York was never supposed to be this dangerous.
And yet, here you are, squatting in a shot-up store that is empty save for you and this one guy who looks like he could possibly be one of the laser-gun-toting militia if he a) hadn’t saved you from getting shot in the head and b) hadn’t been hanging out with Captain America before excessive gunfire had forced the three of you to separate. Naturally, instead of being stuck with star-spangled eye candy, you’re crouching behind a man decked in all-black clothes with countless pockets that look like they’re all filled with weapons of some sort.
Admittedly, the guy is just as built as Captain America, but your brief interaction with the captain had made you feel reassured even while being stuck on the wrong side of a firefight– this guy is silent and sullen and keeps glancing back at you and huffing in frustration, like you’re an annoyance.
Today sucks.
You suck in a breath when footsteps come by you but the guy– Winter-something– somehow pivots silently in steel-toed boots and grabs both your hands with one of his. You flinch in surprise, but his grip is reassuring, and he puts his other index finger to this lips. You give him a look you hope communicates the ‘no shit’ you’re currently feeling, and one side of his mouth quirks into a small smile. Okay…intimidating, maybe, but he is certainly attractive– perhaps even more so than the captain. So sue you; all black is a good look.
He drops the straight line of his shoulders and peeks out, and you realize it’s completely silent outside. You allow yourself to slump and sigh.
“Don’t relax; we’re not safe yet.”
You don’t even realize it at first; you’re so fucking done with the whole damn day you just roll your eyes and say, “Boy, you’re a real party, huh?”
He freezes in the middle of loading a gun and you gasp when you realize when he just said. Well shit.
“You know,” you chuckle, because what is your life right now, “–I thought we’d be in the middle of pulling off a prank or something. Not, you know, a war zone.”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t…think of it,” he says, then flinches and looks at you, brows creased in worry. Or is that aggravation? No, that looks like worry.
“Cool,” you say and smile at your soulmate. “I have no expectations to live up to. That’s nice.”
The lines in his face soften. He raises one eyebrow. “What expectations do I have to live up to?”
You run your hand over your arm absently, though the words are covered by a jacket. His eyes flick there and linger. “Well, I always thought you were a troublemaker,” you say lightly. “But here you are, saving my life.”
As if remembering that you’re not just playing ‘hide from the gunmen’ for fun, he looks out of the broken window, eyes scanning the street. “We gotta find Steve,” he says and takes your hand. You follow as quickly as you can while trying to remain as small as possible. “He’ll get you out of here.”
“And you?”
“I’ll cover you.” He squeezes your hand and stops at a corner. He turns his head to look at you. “I’m…James Barnes. But call me Bucky.”
You tell him your name and you take a few seconds to revel in the surreal reality of finding your soulmate now. From the looks of it he does the same, and then reluctantly turns to peer around the corner. You hear distant noise coming all too close again, sounds of a battle you wished would stay in whatever sci-fi dystopia it came out of.
Somebody grabs your shoulder from behind and you launch yourself against Bucky, wrapping your arms around his middle. He spins around and moves so fast that you don’t know how it happens, but in the end you’re held tight against his front by one of his arms and with the other hand he’s pointing a gun in the face of Captain America. Captain Rogers, in turn, looks far too relaxed for someone literally staring down the barrel of a gun.
“Jesus Christ Steve,” Bucky says and lowers the gun, but he lets go of you very reluctantly.
“Did I miss something?” the captain asks curiously, his brow furrowing as his eyes dart between you and Bucky.
“Words,” Bucky grunts and turns back to look out. It’s stupid, but you miss his hold already.
It takes a moment, but then Captain America gets as soft as a suburban mom hearing that her teenage son has his first date tonight. “Really?”
A bullet hits the wall nearby, close enough that you feel shards of something bounce off of you. “Not the time!” you and Bucky snap in unison. You can’t help but look at him, only to find he’s already smiling at you.
But shouting from behind the slapdash blockade makes your heart speed up in the not-fun way. “You better come out of this okay,” you say, trying for a warning tone but your voice shakes too much for that. “You owe me a drink at least.”
“I’ll buy you two,” Bucky says and moves in suddenly, like he’s going to kiss you, only to come to a nearly-as-sudden stop. You both hesitate, but you lean forward and Bucky takes the opportunity to give you a light kiss. Even while looking at you he says, “Steve,” and Captain America takes your hand and pulls you away. You look back for as long as you can, until you turn a corner and can no longer see your soulmate.
~
A week goes by, then another, and you’re sitting at a bar in misery, idly pretending to scroll through your phone while staring at the phone number Captain Rogers (“Steve, please, you’re my best friend’s soulmate, I can’t believe he finally found–”) gave you for Bucky. You…haven’t called it. You have about a thousand different excuses that all boil down to two fears: reaching him…and not reaching him.
Someone clears their throat right next to you and you jerk hard enough that some of your drink splashes out of the cup and onto the bar. “Shit,” you curse and quickly wipe it up with the tiny napkin before you turn to see what this guy wants from you. And freeze.
Because it’s…Bucky. Wearing jeans, a soft-looking shirt, and a leather jacket with gloves that match. He shuffles awkwardly, drink in hand, and asks, “This seat taken?”
“No, uh– of course not,” you say and even pat the empty stool next to you.
He sits down and, before you can navigate away, he looks at your phone. You cringe but he smiles at you. “Just about to call me?”
You can barely look at him. “I, uh…wasn’t sure if it was okay. If you were okay.”
His eyes soften. “I’m fine.”
“Good,” you say. The two of you are silent and you take a sip of your drink so you don’t feel so bad about it. Bucky glares at something behind you and you want to turn around but…you have an idea of who’s there.
“Did Captain Rogers give you my number like he promised?” you ask.
Bucky ducks his head. “Yeah,” he mumbles and then straightens up. “Sorry, I…I was scared too,” he admits. He stops looking behind you and squints at you. “You don’t have to call him ‘Captain’ you know.”
“I know, but it bothers him, and from the looks of you he’s eavesdropping, so he can get fucked,” you say and hear a vague choking sound from somewhere behind you. Not right behind, thankfully, but you hear the loud laughter of a different man, and that makes you wince. “Not just him, I guess.”
“It’s okay; they’re all getting lost now,” Bucky says, grinning. He leans in and you can smell sweet-spiced cologne. It makes you want to get closer, bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhale everything he is (because he’s yours), lick and nibble at that soft ski–
You swallow hard and take your mind off that track before it gets too far away from you. Bucky swirls his drink and if he noticed you lusting after him he’s polite enough not to mention it. “So,” he says. “We’re both too chicken-shit to call each other. How are we going to do this?”
It’s said in jest, but he isn’t completely wrong– although you’ve taken care of yourself so far, and so has he, so it’s not so daunting to think about. “Well we know we’re both disasters.” You hold up your drink and smile. “What else might we have in common?”
Bucky looks at your drink, slowly smiles, and clinks his own glass against it. His other hand– gentle, warm even through the glove– slides over yours and lightly grips around your fingers. “I can’t wait to find out.”
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#avengers reader insert#captain america reader insert#soulmate fic#soulmate words#what is the opposite of a meet-cute
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Super Rich Kids
trishjames @thusspoketrish
Chapters: 11/11
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Characters: Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Millicent Bulstrode, Theodore Nott, Tracey Davis, Marcus Flint, Original Characters
Additional Tags: Character Study, Slow Burn, Thriller, Mystery, Murder, cover ups, Burglary, dog-napping, Muggle high fashion, Haute couture, Post-Second War, Muggle Culture, dark humour, Angst, seriously so much angst, Drama, Melodrama, Ended Romantic Relationships, Spoiled Kids Trying to Be Adults, Prejudice, Privilege, Vigilantism, Anti-Hero, Depression, Nihilism, Existentialism, Jealousy, Hurt/Comfort, Discussion of Anarchy in the Loosest Sense, Family, Gaslighting, Betrayal, Conspiracy, Politics, Government, Secrets, Very Brief Instance of Suicidal Ideation, Pureblood Elitism, Pureblood Culture, Immorality, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Fist Fights, Social Season, Garden parties, Charity Organisations, Fundraisers, Galas, Summer, Frenemies, Problematic Concepts, problematic behaviour, debutantes, Abusive Drug Use, Recreational Drug Use, Despicable Behaviour, Manipulative Behaviour, creepy behaviour, Threesomes, Heterosexual Sex, Candaulism, Bisexual Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy-centric, Draco/Others - Freeform, Wizengamot, Wedding Engagements, Getting Together, Falling In Love, Possible Infidelity Due to Unclear Relationship Status, Auror Harry Potter, Junior Chief Prosecutor Draco Malfoy, LCDrarry, LCDrarry 2020, Angst with a happy ending!
Summary:
Draco Malfoy has become disillusioned by the glitz and glamour of the scandalous lives of the Post-Second Wizarding War Pureblood Elite. Enter: one existential crisis, one group of thieving cynical friends, and several terrible, terrible decisions.
Excerpt:
Draco finds that he really enjoys Potter’s company. He doesn’t mind when the conversation strays to the Weasleys or Potter’s adventures with his godson, or the repairs he plans to do on Grimmauld Place, that old monster of a townhouse Draco recalls from the Black side of the family. He follows along closely, and he likes it. He likes Potter. He’s surprised that under Potter’s saviour-complex there’s a man with a decent sense of humour. And once they get started on some of the authority figures within the Ministry, Draco discovers there’s a whole wealth of feistiness lurking under that Golden Boy exterior. His distaste for the Ministry honestly rivals Draco’s own.
“You really have a problem with authority,” Draco comments, now finishing off his third pint.
“I just don’t believe in putting my entire faith and trust into any set system, especially one as oppressive as the Ministry. But you didn’t hear me say that.”
“You’re practically an anarchist. How have you not burned the Ministry down?”
“Oh,” Potter starts, his tone dangerous. “There have been moments.”
Draco perks up and leans forward. He remembers what Tracey said about Potter not being what everyone in the Ministry believed him to be. Had she encountered his rebellious streak while working as his witness or during the Corps?
“Really? Do tell,” he says excitedly.
Potter smirks. “I’ll save it for the next time we do this.”
“You think there’ll be a next time, eh?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Well, aren’t you a smug bastard?”
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re wrong,” Draco says with a dramatic, chastising shake of his head.
Potter laughs.
“Where do you live?” Potter asks suddenly.
“Why do you want to know?”
“So I can either walk you home or get you a taxi. I’d say we’ve both had a bit too much to Apparate.”
Draco eyes Potter carefully. In his tipsy state he can look without feeling embarrassed that he finds Potter so bloody attractive. “I live on Buckingham Gate.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, are you kidding?”
“One thing I do not joke about, Potter, is real estate.” The Malfoy London property is obscenely extravagant and located just across Buckingham Palace. Draco can see why Potter’s in awe, his neighbour is technically the Queen. Draco waves his hand. “It’s been in the family for pfft, an aeon…but Mother spends most of her time at Adanya’s property in Marylebone. We hardly ever visit Malfoy Manor.”
“Is it just you there or—”
“It’s just me,” Draco says quickly, even though his mind strays to his new…captive? Pet? To Sprinkles.
“Well, I’d like to walk you home.”
Ah, Draco thinks. What the hell, why not? “Okay.”
They take a scenic route, as in for Draco, through the shopping district. He points out his favourite spots—the small boutiques, the Chanel and Louis Vuitton store, the lovely restaurants and delis he’s visited with Pansy. They walk through Green Park, their voices low as they discuss nothing and everything, their steps in sync as their shoulders bump together. When they reach the open space that is the Victoria Memorial and Buckingham Palace, Draco’s pace slows down. They’ve made it here too quickly.
He doesn’t want the night to end just yet.
Potter takes him all the way to the front entrance of the 19th century, seven-floor townhouse. The black door with the Malfoy crest as its knocker glimmers when it acknowledges Draco’s presence.
“Here we are,” Draco says, his hand tightening nervously around the handle of his briefcase.
“Wow, it’s beautiful,” Potter says, looking up.
The all-white façade and numerous windows are quite lovely. There’s only one light left on, on the first floor where Draco has set up a sort of doggy-friendly room for Sprinkles, which reminds him, he’ll have to Disillusion her to take her out for a short walk. The room may have amenities for her to do her business, but he knows how important fresh air is for animals.
“I’d like to do this again,” Potter says warmly, stepping into Draco’s personal space.
Draco sways a bit, feeling slightly dizzy as he’s caught in the calming, friendly energy that seems to radiate off of Potter.
“I’d like that. Very much.”
Potter’s eyes search Draco’s face with such an intensity that Draco’s knees weaken. “May I kiss you?”
“Oh,” Draco says softly. “Because you think I might be nice?”
Potter grins. “Well, yeah.”
“Then, yes. Please.”
A surreal feeling overcomes him as Potter’s arms wrap around Draco’s waist, pulling him in as their lips gently touch. Draco’s eyes flutter shut, and he finds that Potter’s kiss is like oxygen. He breathes it in.
Like this entire night, their kiss is over much too soon. Draco’s eyes fly open just as Potter pulls away, his cheeks flushed and green eyes iridescent in the low lights.
“Well…thank you,” Potter says softly, a dazed smile on his face.
A gentle laugh bubbles up Draco’s throat. “Thank you.”
Potter lifts a hand to Draco’s cheek. He slides his thumb across it before dropping it and taking a step back. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Goodnight, Draco,” Potter says quietly before turning away.
“Goodnight, Harry,” he whispers after him as he watches the other man walk down the street to disappear around the corner.
₍՞◌′ᵕ‵ू◌₎♡+.ﾟ
#Super Rich Kids#TrishJames#ThusSpokeTrish#Drarry#Drarry Fic Rec#Fic Rec#Draco Malfoy#Harry Potter#LCDrarry 2020#Drarry Fanfiction#Hp Fanfiction#Carey's bookmark Fic Recs#Carey's Personal Bookmarks#My recs
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okay some of the members on the dsmp are just so,,, surreal to me still
like quackity? yeah he's been on the dsmp for almost a full year now but i still can't get over that fact that
he's IN it, you know?
i used to be so active in his community when he was a toontown streamer, i used to watch him when he STARTED YOUTUBE, and we used to genuinely be friends! i was literally a mod in his twitch chat!!!! so it's just,, insane to see that he's been able to make it this far and do what he's able to. hell, he even WON MCC TODAY! he's so much happier with his content now that it's truly insane. and i'm so glad for him for it.
i have a friend who edits for someone really close to michaelmcchill!
i literally have a friend who STILL TALKS TO CHARLIE SLIMECICLE BECAUSE THEY WERE COLLEGE BUDDIES! HE'S LITERALLY A MOD IN THE CHAT!
it's incredible to see these things, and i don't think i'll ever be able to get over it.
(it's gonna get ✨extra vent-y✨ in here under the cut so read only if u want to im extra emotional today)
i just can't help but feel jealous and envious, because it's something i've always wanted to do and i've worked decently hard for it with no fruit to bear for it, and i've always struggled with the feelings of validation. i've always had a desire to be famous for something, whether it be myself or something i create, so seeing my friends get an easy pass, despite me being happy as all hell for them, i can't help but feel a pit in my stomach that's just burning jealousy. and i feel awful for it. like, "i'm trying my hardest out here and not getting rewarded at all, and yet someone else does something small and they get the praise? but it's my friend! i should feel happy for them! why am i feeling so bad about it?!" it's so much worse for me too though because i've always struggled with the feeling of being invisible and never feeling like i'm really there even though i am, and every time someone gets praised for something i've also done beforehand it just,,, hurts you know?? like i want to be seen for something for once! i have ideas and i'm here! and yet, nobody even hears it. or sees it. unless someone else says it. i have to make people see it myself, and i feel bad for it. like, i know i should be promoting myself, but i feel guilty for doing so and i can't shake the awful feeling, because even though i really need to, i can't bring myself to it... but even then whenever i do it just feels like it's ignored and nobody cares. and it only makes me feel worse. i'm happy where i am right now, but i can't find my way out of the low points, and yes, i have a better time now then i did a few years ago, but i can't shake my feelings of self doubt and dehumanizing myself every time i want to feel happy about something related to it. i just want to make content people are happy with, but i can't find the right people, or anything. i never feel supported even though i know i have people there for me. i always feel like i'm alone whenever i'm with a group of people. hell, that one stream where c!ranboo was like "i'm not a person anyone would pick over someone else" hit me SO HARD that it still shakes me to this day. i honestly struggle with those feelings so much, like, i'm in a huge group of friends, but i don't think anyone would pick me over someone else. everyone else has someone they like more, who they've talked with more, who they see as a bigger person in their life. i'm just there to provide entertainment. i always feel like a side character in my own story. i'm the stage crew in a play of my own life. i'm filming a movie of my decisions instead of being the star. and it gets so much worse when one thing gets attention and i feel like "oh its my time! i'm finally growing! i can finally do something! i can finally be someone people look up to!" and then when the next day comes and i'm ready to go, i'm just left there. because it was a simple one-time thing. and i shouldn't feel that much validation from it. but i do. and i don't know how to stop that. i find myself sitting there without a smile, and without a happy spot for a good few days. i feel like i failed and people hate me because i was doing something. i always feel like my ideas are shit because they flop due to no reason at all. i try and do something cool that i think will catch attention, but it doesn't work. and when i see all these people i know and follow get praised for the exact same thing i can't help but feel ill with my own feelings from it. i shouldn't be, but i am, and its getting to be a lot on my own mental health.
like jesus christ i shouldn't even be venting on this post yet here the fuck i am spewing whatever comes out of my mouth like a madman
sorry about that
i'll leave you guys alone now, enjoy the post without the vent
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