#Jeff besos

[urgentkettle]

Elon Musk has so much an opportunity to actually be funny if he fights Zuckerberg. He should go in with poison tipped boxing gloves. But then he sees that Besos has drank from the poisoned cup of wine, he knows the scheme is up. He’ll strike Zuckerberg but, in the ensuing scuffle, they switch gloves. Zuckerberg will land an opposing blow to Musk, but it will be too late.

[michaelpaul7]

[pointyearedtrashperson]

The year is 2033. Twitter’s agonising crash into bankrupcy has imparted a singular message on the people of Earth: No ammount of money can buy one iota of competence. In the wake of this revelation, billionaires are dragged from their mansions, burned alive in the streets, and feasted upon by the masses in a world-spanning summer barbeque, that will one day be referred to as “The Juicy Justice Jamboree”.

A Half-chicken-fried Elon Musk will smugly insist that, actually, this was all part of his plan to redistribute the wealth by shaking the publics faith in the 1%. This will not be a thinly-veiled attempt to save avoid his finger-licking fate. In fact, Elon will not even be alive in this moment. The childish, self-serving, face-saving lies spewing from his mouth-watering corpse will simply be his body’s natural reflexive response, the death throws of a life lived in an imagined reality, enabled by the limitless resources of an increasingly-exploited humanity. 

A section of the population will believe Musk’s claims, forming a widespread cult, and attempt to overthrow the new world. Their plans of revolution will be halted, however, as they soon find that such a task would require leaving the home, and interacting with women. 

Before being ground down and turned into sausages, Martin Shkreli will be forced to Overdose on vast quantities of Insulin, and his resulting Hot Dogs will be given exclusively to diabetics. 

A Joanne Rowling stew will be prepared by a diverse, multicultural, multiethnic crew of culinary staff, that feature representation of every gender identity, gender expression sexual preference, romantic preference, race, ethnicity, nationality, neurology, religious and political beliefs. Despite the efforts gone to assure her that wealth status is the motivation for inclusion in the chosen recipe, she will insist it is a misogynist plot orchestrated by transgendered, jewish snowflakes, and that the vast majority of people are actually perfectly happy about her use of poor children as indentured servants and furniture. The flavour profile of the resulting stew will be characterised “very bitter”.

The only billionaire to avoid being eaten will be Jeffrey Bezos, who will instead be lost his Amazon delivery escort on the way to the barbeque. His corpse will be discovered 3 months later, his bones pulverised as a result of being recklessly forced into mailbox obviously too small for his mass.

The overcooked Trump steaks will remain untouched, left to go stale, and eventually fed to the many wild dogs, coyotes, and foxes of the neighbourhood, who reluctantly eat the old, fatty meat.

[spockeye-fierce]

[x3nshit]

at what point will the billionaires get bored enough with their money that they finally start caring about social issues

[jesuscumsock]

she amazon on my jeff till i bezos

[politicalx3n]

THIS.

We’re being fed all these ideas on how the average person should stop doing pretty basic things to stop climate change while no pressure is put on the billionaires who cause a large amount of it

(story from@hazelisonline on instagram)

[hufflepuffdoingmybest]

Why did it go out of style for millionaires to flex by building beautiful libraries, theaters, and public buildings? Like bring back the vibe that built Carnegie hall.

Make billionaires showing off by building and putting their names on public buildings great again.

[mansorus]

Look at this every day to remind myself

that there is more work to be done

[shittymurderparty]

Lust and The Red Herring respectively

i am the jeff bezos of gay sex

[itsneowriting]

Dawn of the Dark Knight

"The Bat signal has been up for the last 15 minutes. Why didn't we get the alert?" Bruce was not happy about the delay. This signal is lit up only in the worst scenarios, and in such cases, every second counts.

"I am not sure, Master Wayne. I'll investigate that while you're away meeting Commissioner Gordon," Alfred said as he pulled up the logs for the Bat signal notification system. "Make sure we are not hacked. That's the last thing I want." Batman left for the Batcave in his Batmobile.

"You're late. I hope everything is alright?" Commissioner Gordon expressed concern since Batman was running late.

"Nothing for you to be concerned about," Batman said in his heavy voice. "Tell me why you summoned me."

"It's Joker again. He's kidnapped the mayor. He wants us to release Harley Quinn from Arkham Asylum," Commissioner Gordon explained, his expression reflecting concern.

Batman checked his Batwatch for the live feed on Harley Quinn, but to his dismay, the data did not load. "Strange," he murmured.

"Everything okay?" Gordon was getting anxious from Batman's expression.

"You needn't worry about me. Tell me what information we have thus far," Batman replied, refocusing the conversation.

"We have limited leads on Joker's location. He expects us to bring Quinn to Gotham Port. And..." Gordon paused, awaiting Batman's response.

"And what?" Batman inquired, still grappling with the malfunctioning Batwatch feed.

"He expects you to bring her there. He said he will release the mayor once he sees both of you at the Northern block of Gotham Port."

"No issues. I'll handle that. I'll meet you at the Asylum. Just tell me Harley's room." Batman assured Gordon.

Gordon went through the papers he held in his folder and read out, "Cell number 234, 8th floor, 3rd Block." As he lifted his face up after reading Harley's records, Batman was nowhere to be seen. Despite having seen the act a thousand times already, Gordon was still impressed.

Jailbreaking Quinn from the Asylum wasn't something that Batman was inexperienced with. In an hour, Batman was en route to Gotham Port with an unconscious Harley on the Batmobile.

"Alfred, what's going on with the Batwatch? The feed isn't updating properly, and our BatCall app is malfunctioning,” Bruce asked Alfred over Facetime, as the BatCall wasn't functioning properly.

"I'm uncertain, sir. I've thoroughly examined the logs, and it doesn't appear that we are being hacked. However, I'm investigating other possible issues," Alfred responded diligently.

"Damn it, Alfred."

"Sir, if I may, where are you headed? I haven’t been able to track the Batmobile’s location since you left."

"Perfect. So, the whole Bat Software system is down now? And we are clueless about the cause. We'll address this once I get back. Tell Damian that I will be in the Northern block. I just picked up Harley Quinn from the Asylum and I am off to Gotham Port."

"Harley Quinn? May I inquire why you have her with you at this moment, Master Wayne?"

"Long story. The mayor has been kidnapped by the Joker and I need to confront him. Tell Damian to wait for my arrival before taking any action."

"Will do, sir."

Bruce ended the call. He was a lot more concerned about how the Bat Software System was not working properly. Has the Joker hacked his way into his system?

"You're late, Batman... Wahahahahah!" The Joker's laughter echoed through the Northern block of Gotham port, laced with annoyance.

"I have Quinn with me. Now where's the mayor?" Batman dismissed Joker's comment, focusing on the task at hand.

"He's at the DA's office. I don’t care about him or her. The only person who matters to me is you. Now let's dance. Wahahahaha." Joker laughed menacingly as he threw a couple of grenades at Batman and the unconscious Harley.

"I forgot that you haven't been to the Asylum in a while. Let's fix that today," said Batman as he swiftly used the BatHook to manoeuvre. Placing Harley in a secure location, he returned to face Joker.

"Not bad, Batman. Though, you are slacking off lately. Now, why don't we spice it up a little?" said Joker as he released a mysterious gas from cylinders hidden around the Northern block. "Damn it. The Batwatch would've picked this up right when we arrived. Had it been working, that is..." Batman thought, realizing the extent of the system malfunction.

Batman felt suffocation and anxiety as he trembled, inhaling the gas. The memory of his parents getting shot came right in front of him.

"Now, Batman, let's settle this for once and for all," Joker took the knife he crafted from the Batarang and held it under Batman's neck. Batman felt too paralyzed to do anything.

"Bang!" A shot was heard before Joker collapsed to the ground.

"Take that, you psycho…" Damian, the Robin, glided down from one of the empty ships surrounding them after he shot down Joker using the tranquilizer.

"Aah the bot wonder. You got the moves alright… Guess you won this time, Batman... Wahah..." Joker fainted, before he could finish his laughter.

"Here, an antidote for Scarecrow's gas." Damian injected the antidote into Batman. "You're late. A couple more seconds, and you would’ve become the next Batman, on my vacancy." Batman said, as he got up, regaining his composure.

"Yeah, couldn't locate you since our entire software systems are down," he replied, acknowledging the complications they faced.

"Understandable. Let's sort this mess first, before digging onto that."

Soon, Joker and Quinn were transferred back to the Asylum, and the day was safe again in Gotham, thanks to the efforts of Batman and the team.

"Alfred, have you figured out the issue with our entire software system going down?" Bruce asked furiously as the setback on the last case still haunted him.

"I'm afraid, yes, Master Wayne," Alfred said as he showed Bruce an email.

"It turns out that Damian accidentally left an EC2 instance running on our AWS account for a very long time. All our Bat Software systems deployed in AWS will no longer function until we pay the bills."

"Well then, pay and close it, Alfred! Don't tell me there's something else."

"I'm afraid there's more. The bill exceeds your bank balance, unfortunately, and they have debited whatever was present in your account."

"Wtf?"

"I'm afraid you are broke, sir."

"F*ck Jeff Bezos!!!" Bruce yelled as he realized this is the end of his story as Batman, and probably Bruce Wayne's as well. Jeff Bezos had accomplished what the Joker never could.

Nb: This short fan fiction was written based on the following prompts:

Part 1

Pick your favorite fairytale/ superhero character & write a short piece. Make sure that the piece is suited to be read to & understood by a 10-year-old child.

Part 2

From where you have stopped, twist the tale in to an adult one.

Pointer - The original fairytales were quite grizzly, gory and twisted. Grimms took those & significantly toned it down to suit the young ones.

[zero-way-out]

I needed to share this with anyone

[chaoticgoth]

I smell bullshit behind Amazonsmile closing down cause it hadn't "grown to create the impact that we had originally hoped"

They could have made it way more accessible and default if they wanted

It just feels like they weren't exactly giving it their best shot

[purplebehittindifferent]

#25 Based on your recent reference searches, what would the FBI assume about you?

It would probs think I’m a gymnast and a criminal-

[teeth-in-a-mason-jar]

ok I'm about to get real personal about the frickin good omens season 2 end.

That shit hit me like a truck.

That kiss was so important.

The way Crowley grabs his jacket and pulls him close is done in the same way he does when he's being all scary in season 1.

The way that Aziraphale keeps his eyes open nearly the whole time and his hands nervously and distressingly brush Crowley's back.

The way that Crowley pulls him so tight and presses into him so viciously and just holds him there.

The way Crowley keeps his eyes closed so tight the entire time. The way he doesn't gasp when it's over. The way he just looks at Aziraphale with those eyes. Like a goodbye kiss. Like he's always wanted to do that and now he has finally done it at his last chance and effort.

The way Aziraphale gasps and launches into a sob the minute he is let go. The way he keeps moving the whole time. The way that the first thing that Aziraphale says is "I forgive you."

And Crowley gives up and says "Don't bother."

AND

My favorite part

Aziraphale touching his lips constantly throughout the end. And pain and anguish and devastation and regret rippling through his eyes and ears and lips and hands and just the way he stands.

It's the fricking LOOK that Aziraphale has when he presses his fingers to his lips.

That look of fear and pain and anguish and regret and hurt and just so much.

Aziraphale looking back and forth between the door and the floor I'm so

I've made peace with it in some sad way.

Am I devastated? Yes.

Am I gonna listen to sad gay music all day and all week? Yes.

But I am sitting in this familiar pain of oh so wanting the relationship to start. For everything to be okay. For no one to hate anyone. And it hurts but it's been hurting for so long and it's a familiar fear and I'm gonna be okay and so will they.

I know this pain. I know watching someone being stuck in a place where no one understands them and they can't be who they are and them just far away. Too far away for me to love properly. Too far away and yet so close all I need to do is lean in and kiss that person so tightly and desperately. But I know that wouldn't do anything. All it would do is make us both feel worse.

And to the person I'm writing this about. If you see this, I'm sorry. Tumblr is my sad gay journal and well I'm sad and gay about ya. We should hold hands more I think. I miss ya

[jargyles]

jeddie - the one where they don't break up

j&e have an epic summer of love and can't wait to finish highschool together (au where the byers don't move to cali. yet), but jonathan's insecurities get in the way of their outness. they don't break up about it. | ship: jonathan byers/eddie munson | bg characters: will byers (mentioned), wayne munson (mentioned) | words: ~3.4k | warnings: mentions of drinking, recreational drug use, references past alcoholism, internalized homophobia, period-typical attitudes around queerness, jonathan-typical relationship problems. lotsa angst

summer happened.

jonathan and eddie kissed for the first time, a whip of teeth and tongue that left jonathan hopped up on a new strand of endorphins and eddie- well, the same, but back then- newly obsessed with his club member's brother. jonathan hadn't anticipated them kissing more after that, chalking it up to some hazy frolic into dying grass, a firework that left a smell. he figured that would be the case especially when the fourth of july came and eddie kissed him again, and a handful of times between then and their first kiss, and another handful of times after that.

jonathan didn't think anything of it; having eddie around, getting high, going to shows and kissing in the dark, getting drunk, kissing after long walks home, all of it seemed like something that fit into eddie's idea of "a summer you'll never forget, byers". he didn't think anything about the way eddie looked, or spoke, or played guitar, or even held him in between moments they weren't doing anything. he didn't think about any of that, but… there was something. something that drove them to where they are now, something that made jonathan fully aware of what they meant to each other, even if it took a while.

it'd be the way eddie beamed at him every time they met, thin lips brandishing wide smiles and folding into the slight chub of his cheeks. it'd be the way jonathan didn't understand what it meant to feel empty when he didn't see him smiling. it'd be the way his hair would fall in stringy curls in front of his big brown eyes during a show, or after, or before, when they'd spent a good thirty minutes trying to wrestle a blunt they were sharing away from one another. the way his eyes would linger on the bend of eddie's knuckles underneath his silver rings. sometimes it'd be his scent, his laugh, even his touch- but really it'd be the lack of it all that drove jonathan to places he never thought he'd park at. especially with eddie munson.

neither one of them expected the other to say 'i love you', but they both did, and they were both shocked and didn't know what would come after that, but then they just kind of dealt with it. they would kiss, and get high, and go to shows, and hold each other, and spend days with jonathan's family and wayne, or the party, or the rest of eddie's band, and they would smile and say 'i love you' somewhere in between all that. they didn't even question it, and after about two months or so, they just accepted it. they were dating. boyfriends, even.

summer happened and the rest of their relationship became interwoven with trips to scoops and reading comic books in the woods and making out while listening to queen, a middle ground. the theatrics and vibrato were for eddie, and the music, the lyrics, and the familiarity of it all were for jonathan. lyrics became dates of the week, and theatrics became sweat-stained t-shirts under fizzling leds. they were trapped there for a while.

eddie had to repeat his senior year (again), and jonathan was starting his. both of these milestones, so to speak, took place after summer, and they hadn't thought about that.

jonathan was mostly excited for will; getting to drive to school together, showing him where his classes were, helping him with extracurriculars and homework, not even thinking for a second that his little brother would be attending the same school as his boyfriend. eddie didn't think about that either; he was stoked to have his byers and his mini byers with him, rambling on about how 'awesome' hellfire campaigns would be, how they'd drive him to the hideout- to which jonathan immediately shot that down- and how will's freshman year would be his favorite year because 'me and big byers are gonna make you never forget it, kid' and that's all the two of them cared about, really.

they didn't think about what would happen after they showed up at school together.

will decided that he'd rather walk with the rest of his friends to school that day, and have a proper meet-up-and-recap before they all settled into new classes and opportunities, so jonathan and eddie rode to school together. in eddie's van.

the thing they don't tell most people about having a boyfriend in hawkins is that most people in hawkins who have boyfriends are girls, and most boys who date have girlfriends, and so little couple-y things like showing up to school in the same van and fixing each other's jackets would earn strange and unsettling looks from fellow student passersby. things like that, when done without a girl present or involved in the straightening or light dusting of jackets, often got someone spat on or shoved into a toilet or trash can or locker of some kind, accompanied with a brand new word for "gay" written in permanent marker somewhere on your exposed skin for everyone to see.

they have the same first period, but they don't walk to class together.

they have the same last period too, but eddie can't wait that long.

during lunch, when jonathan is washing his hands before making the trek to the parking lot to eat alone in his car, a handful of boys enter and exit their respective stalls. most of them ignore him (thankfully) and the ones that don't just stare, and it could be due to his brother- the zombie- attending school with him now, it could be the way some people definitely saw him exit the same van as eddie munson, and it could be the way it's taking him so long to raise his hands above the sink to dry them off. all in all, they're still staring. there's a rolodex of reasons to stare at jonathan byers, and none of them are good, and all of them make sense, to a certain degree.

at least jonathan can wash his hands about it. he's getting better at moving his arms past his elbows, and he's grateful for being able to wash his hands under five minutes, even if his fingers still jitter or the water feels like- something he's bound to wash away again, maybe, if he isn't careful about eddie. about will. at least he can look forward to walking by eddie's table with the rest of the hellfire club as he makes his way into peaceful (albeit, regretful) solitude. maybe eddie will shoot him a wink mid speech, or smile at him and act like he's smiling at someone else during one of his elaborate public disruptions.

instead, jonathan hears a loud, swinging screech and flinches, his arms tensing up down to the laddering of his spine, and his first instinct is to reach for something but instead he just ducks his head down and mutters an apology, as if he was the one barging in on an innocent sink-dweller. instead of barking back at him, or spitting a venom-slick synonym for 'queer' and shoving him into the nearest stall, the interrupter pulls him in for a tight hug. it startles jonathan, until he realizes the only person to hug him by lifting him a foot above the ground is-

"can't fucking do this-" and eddie’s wrapping constrictor-tight arms around him one moment, then pushing the two of them into the nearest stall the next, and holding him by the face with both hands to kiss him right after that, "can't fucking do this, byers- i can't-"

"hey, listen-" jonathan melts, and couldn't think of a way to reciprocate eddie's intensity if he tried, becoming fully swept up in words stitched in between layers of kissing, "listen, eds-"

eddie stops, because he knows when to stop, when jonathan feels like it's becoming too much, too much acting and not enough savoring, or too much closeness when he needs air. jonathan expected eddie to ramble himself into a corner, or have a smile cutting its way across his mouth, something familiar to soothe his yearning. what jonathan doesn't expect is eddie looking back at him with eyes so wet, so red, that it looks like he'd been punched everywhere but south from the time he swung that door open to the first kiss he planted on jonathan's face.

"do you- do you know?" eddie's hand is on the spot next to jonathan's head. he's practically hunched over, his lips scrunched into a frown. "do you know how hard it is to act like i don't fuckin' miss you like crazy?"

"i know, hey, i know-" and jonathan is cradling eddie's head in his shoulder like he did during the summer, when they'd open up about things like this, that left them hoveling and wrecked for hours on end. he smooths over his stringy mass of hair, pushing it out of his face while eddie tried to replace the air in his lungs with whatever jonathan had going on at the top of his neck.

"i can't fucking do this." he snaps, his voice as wet as his eyes when he yanks himself from underneath jonathan's hold.

"i know." jonathan is prepared for the worst; he's ready to kiss eddie one last time in that stall and walk out with a wrinkled shirt that's bound to turn heads. he figures it's the end of summer and eddie has a breakable heart, and it must break his heart to not be around jonathan like how he used to, so jonathan figures it's time. he sighs, putting on a brave, stoic face while giving eddie a firm squeeze on his shoulder.

eddie isn't having any of it.

"i can't fucking live like this, byers." eddie says it- live- in a way that jonathan would've easily missed had he been focused on the mess of teeth and tongue sliding its way up and down his neck, dancing just above his collarbone.

it weighs on him, the idea of eddie not being able to live without him, or the idea of eddie not being able to live without being with him, whichever idea made the most sense. jonathan knows this is nonsensical, from every angle, because eddie doesn't mean that, and jonathan shouldn't just assume things out of people he dates for a month or two, or three, or… however long it's been since their first kiss. just because eddie kissed him back then the exact same way he's kissing him now- sporadic movements and bumps of teeth, both of their skin clammy and sundried at the same time- doesn't mean they should exist in a world where hawkins isn't hawkins. it's hard for him to imagine it, a world where he and eddie could step out of the same van or even hold hands in the halls, and if he tries hard enough he can convince himself that that isn't actually what he wanted from all this, no way, no how. it's hard to convince himself of that when eddie is taking his zipper down.

"eddie, wait-" he manages to cough out, having had every cognitive thought kissed right out of him, and his featherlight wrist tries to pick at eddie's heavily accessorized one. "really, wait. c'mon, eds- we gotta- gotta talk this out, okay? talk."

eddie exhales, long and heavy through his nose, with a pleased chuckle rumbling somewhere underneath all that. jonathan is relieved, even if eddie starts pressing quiet kisses up his neck again, at least jonathan knows he's listening.

"i missed you too." jonathan leans into it, resting his palm on eddie's cheek. he does miss him, even now, but he won't say it. eddie doesn't have to know that this is hard for him too, that he wants to be doing this- kissing, no judgemental eyes or poisonous words- out in the open, with all their peers, with everyone and anyone who could see.

eddie makes a noise, disgruntled, perished, wrecked inside, and he’s pressing the flesh of his cheek into jonathan's hand, nuzzling him with a ferocity that shouldn't be described as a "nuzzle". his arms come around jonathan's waist, tight, like he's protesting the bulldozing of the place that doesn't card for cigarettes, or trying to break him in half.

"i'm serious, eds," jonathan hears himself break, for a second, in a voice crack that borders on a wheeze, "i missed you. a lot."

"yeah, no, i- i know." eddie closes his leaking eyes tight, breathing him in again. "which is why i- i can't. i can't not be with you, or around you, or act like i don't even… like we don't even… know each other? does that make sense? i don't- i don't know what i'm saying here, jonny. something in there might make sense-"

"eddie." jonathan scoffs with endearment, then his heart sinks when he thinks about not getting to hear his boyfriend ramble anymore. "i know what you mean."

they pause, silence wrapping around them like a wool blanket. they're just limbs at this point; eddie's lips still wandering aimlessly on however much skin he could find on jonathan's neck, jonathan's head curled towards him, both of their arms folded around each other as they breathed, speaking in bumps of noses and sighs of gratitude.

"we just have to be careful, okay?" jonathan is the first to pull them back to reality, as unwilling as he was. "just for the year, yeah? so people don't think… y’know."

"god," eddie groans, his forehead thumping against the wall behind them, and he chuckles again, until it bleeds into a whine. "since when do we care about what people think? since when did we have to start acting like fucking…" both of them know what that silence means, and both of them knew how to not get caught over the summer, except for when they didn't, "ugh! this fucking sucks. this sucks, byers. why do we have to pretend that we're-"

"we won't be pretending," jonathan's face feels blank, and he tightens his fingers around eddie's bicep, "we'd still be together, just… we won't tell anyone. not because of what they'll say, but because it isn't their business."

there were a lot of things jonathan was scared of, and a lot of reasons to be scared of them. for a long time, he was scared of having to hurt someone he loved, and he was prepared for the inevitability of it happening, because ever since will first went missing, he knew he'd shut himself off more. what he wasn't prepared for, in the event of letting down a person he loved, was for that person to be eddie. he especially, never in his life, would've thought to prepare for the look on eddie's face after he said that.

eddie backs off completely, unashamed tears fully streaming down his face, his hands forgetting jonathan's zipper entirely, latching onto his shoulders like jonathan would go missing without them being wound together. he shrugs, and then his head is down and jonathan hears the starts to a lot of sentences that never get finished, or even have a first word to begin with. his hands tremble, his ring-clad fingers digging dent marks into jonathan's bare ones. he sniffles, hard, and it breaks jonathan's heart right down the middle.

he knows he should say something. he knows he should pull eddie closer, tell him he didn't mean it, that they'll just float through their senior year together and it'll be a breeze, or the best year of will's life, or whatever else eddie said, but he can't. he can't bring himself to do anything when he knows that lunch period will be over soon, and someone might see them leave this stall together and assume the worst- the truth- and make their lives a living hell. eddie doesn't deserve that. he should be able to graduate in one piece without jonathan dragging him down.

"i didn't know you were-" eddie is the first to speak, because jonathan is busy holding in his own tears at seeing him like this, "i didn't think you still cared about this stuff, y'know?" he squeezes jonathan's hands in his palms, "other people seeing us, whatever, all that shit. i didn't know it mattered so much to you."

"it doesn't." jonathan's lips crinkle into a frown. eddie didn't know what he was talking about.

"yeah?" eddie meets his eyes, and they're worse than jonathan could've imagined them being. his face is flushed, and his lips are red from having kissed jonathan so much, and his mouth twitches as it opens and closes, words dying off his tongue before he could form them. "because you really seem to give a shit about being seen with me, or even fucking knowing me, actually, so what gives? what changed with you, byers? what made you make up this- this fucking game plan on how we're supposed to act now, huh?"

"nothing." jonathan's voice is tight, and his fingers feel small and dry in eddie's hands.

"bullshit." eddie's grip is more firm, more secure, but still soft. his eyes scan jonathan's face, and his eyebrows have that arch in them that jonathan had only seen when he was learning a new song on guitar. he used to admire it, found it cute, but now it terrifies him. "what, are you, like… embarrassed of me? ashamed or- or something?"

"that's not-" jonathan feels a single tear fall, and he realizes he might've been holding in a breath this entire time. he knew how eddie worked; all it took was one missed idea, or misconstrued thought, and eddie would be in his dark hole of self pity once again, and they'd done so well with his progressing sobriety over the summer that jonathan doesn't want to see what'll happen when eddie gets down there again. “i’m not.”

"you don't like me anymore, then?" that crack in his voice- jonathan hates it- makes eddie sound like a rejected kid, and even he starts to shake his head at how ridiculous it might sound. "are we not, like, clicking like we used to? is it someone else?"

"eddie-" jonathan knows he's helpless to stop this spiral, and he starts his own series of unfinished sentences that come out as shortenings of breath and hollow grunts.

"did i do something?" eddie has his shoulders fully slumped now. "i know i'm not, like, the best boyfriend in the world or anything, but, you- you gotta tell me if i mess up, y’know? so we can-"

the bell rings. jonathan swore he wouldn't miss lunch, swore to himself he wouldn't make a scene on the first day back, for everyone's sake, and here they were. eddie is stood frozen in front of him, his body solid in it's hunched stance while his eyes bug out, racing around every corner of their shared space. when jonathan snaps his fingers in front of his face, eddie heaves, his posture loosening almost instantly.

"go." jonathan wishes he didn't sound so quick to get eddie to leave, but he has to get them apart before people see, and eddie still isn't getting the picture. he grabs him by the arm, and the way eddie won't even look at him is blunt enough to crack a bone. "you have go, eds, right now, or-"

"yeah." eddie snatches his arm away, sniffs hard as he wipes his face with one hand, and pushes the stall door open to properly storm out. "already ahead of you."

jonathan watches him leave, knowing (or at least assuming to know) that they'll talk later, and that they both need to get a grip before shit gets heavier than it needs to be. it'd have to be at his trailer after school, without will tagging along or, hopefully, without wayne to mistakenly wander in on their conversation. jonathan would have to think, long and hard, about what that talk would even mean for them. worst case scenario, they break up and hate each other for the rest of their lives.

jonathan can't think of another scenario.