HOUR 18 OF "TWENTY FOUR HOURS" WILL BE POSTED TOMORROW, 06/14 AT 6 PM EST.
i'm back, y'all! and worse than ever . i know this has taken forever due to my traveling, and thank you all for your patience and kindness ♡
to hold you over until tomorrow night/afternoon/whatever time of day it will be for all you lovelies, have a snippet below the cut.
Eddie’s eyes narrow in concentration at your phone as his thumbs fly across the screen, navigating the Spotify app with ease to find the Deftones song he specifically wants. He doesn’t do as you had and go to their artist page – he searches with purpose, in no mood to scroll through albums to find the song he’s looking for.
“I still don’t understand how you can type so fast,” you mumble, watching with fascination that you try to tamper down with faux boredom, “Even I can’t type that fast, and I own the damn thing.”
He doesn’t even glance up as he scrolls along the screen, finding the song and clicking on it, “I’m just good with my fingers.”
There it goes. The air from your lungs, once again vacating the premises as he freezes beside you.
It isn’t fair. An internal whine that nearly works itself up your throat and out your mouth, making you want to stomp your feet like a child. You hadn’t even recovered from the casual drop of baby yet. And now he’s going to just say that?
“Oh, God, I-” he’s looking up finally, eyes wide and stuttering with embarrassment, “Fuck, I swear to God, I did not mean that as an innuendo.”
You open your mouth. You close it. You repeat the process. You’re fucking speechless and it’s a little bit embarrassing.
“I’m serious!” he persists when you don’t reply, and only stare at him in continued shock, “Seriously! I- Fuck, I was referring to with my job. At the autoshop. I’m- Fuck,” he cuts his explanation off, dragging a hand over his face and falling back into the couch, “Kill me. Kill me now, please – and be sure to make it quick and painless, pretty please.”
You finally laugh. It’s a bit choked, a bit strangled, but it instantly has Eddie lowering his hand.
“I think if we were going to kill each other, Munson, it would have happened hours ago,” you try to tease him, but something about the sentiment comes out far softer than you intended. Like it’s not a joke. Like, in your own odd way, you’re trying to whisper a truth to him – everything has changed for me now.
“Probably,” he sighs, relaxing a bit and leaning back beside you as he looks to the phone once more and clicks on a song, “Proba-fucking-ly.”
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I cannot physically express the fuckery I just had to deal with at work
so instead, let's metaphorically say that I am a mechanic instead, and somebody calls me up and complains that their car always says that they're speeding
so I spend hours trying to help them through this, trying to rule out basic stuff. Except their responses to a lot of my questions and instructions are kinda hard to parse, until finally, they start letting very strange things slip
like when I ask their speed, they say it's "six". when I ask what units that's in, they don't know what a 'unit' is
and after much questioning they're like "oh yeah haha my car didn't come with one of those 'speedometer' thingamajigs" like that's a completely normal thing to say, and it comes out that they are gauging the speed by leaning out the window and eyeballing the tires now and then
but also they aren't sure how the math works, so they approximate the tires as squares.
and to simplify the math more they drop a brick on the accelerator and try not to touch the brake too often
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the gentleness hidden in the night
ffxivwrite2023 #08: shed
lose (hair) as a result of molting, disease, or age.
Lunya/G'raha. Howl's Moving Castle AU. 244wc.
⮞ You found me in the future, and now it's my turn to find you.
When she finds him, stumbling from the darkness of the very same door she and Cola followed her ring through before, he's uncomfortably still.
Blood drips from cuts she can and cannot see, hitting the ground like the aftermath of rain, an iron twist on petrichor. The once-pearlescent feathers overtaking his form are ragged and clouded, ruffled in every direction; they cloak him like a funeral shroud, weighing him down til he's haggard and nearly shapeless. Lunya parts the feathers veiling his face and her heart breaks—his sanguine eyes, though bright as ever in hue, stare dully into nothingness, looking straight past her. He is almost unrecognizable like this. But Lunya has learned hope, and she knows this: human or wizard or monster, G'raha Tia or the Crystal Exarch or Noah whatever else he would call himself, she would know him anywhere.
"I'm sorry I've kept you waiting," she murmurs, cupping his blood-stained face. She runs her thumb over his lower lip before she kisses him chastely and whispers, "Can you take me to Feo Ul?"
With no change in expression, not even so much as a blink, G'raha rises, revealing elongated talons as he spreads his wings. His form seems to get bigger as Lunya steps towards him, delicately balancing herself on his foot as Cola leaps on beside her, and with a burst of iridescent feathers they soar over the broken valley towards the last surviving piece of their castle, their home.
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I am revealing myself, for my adoration for your Saint design has made me silly, and a force beyond my control made me doodle them
MY GOD IT LOOKS LIKE A BOG CREATURE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LIVIN SWAMP!!! oooh i adore your hand's take on it sm, it looks like it would be super soft but also feel like a wet mop
THE LITTLE SPROUTS,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, the little sprouts are everything actually. and the blep. the Feckin Blep 🤌
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