#he just loves bikes
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padawansuggest · 4 months ago
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Okay. The trike is together. My dad (who used to run a bike shop okay he knows this shit he just used me for my better eyesight a lot cause that’s an issue for him now I’m so fucking glad I have him I would have just cried at it) wants us to get a nice set of washers for the seat itself, a couple more LED lights (I got one recently without even realizing it had a red light setting and dad wants me to get two more of it cause it was on sale) and we need a third reflector for one wheel cause we seem to have lost the backing to one of them and he doesn’t think it’ll stay long if we just glue it. But he also wants Lock Tight glue cause he doesn’t trust a lot of bolts (lmao this man would say it’s fine if it was his but for his kid???? Nahhhhh it could be better).
But that’s okay cause I’m sore from like 3 straight days of Going Places Doing Things, so I’m chill to nap till tomorrow and then get what I can on that list, plus a secondary bike lock. The trike itself came with a lock with keys, but it’s not a GREAT lock so I’m gonna get a super nice one, and use the one it came with to lock the basket in the back of the cart (it came with a grated lid lol) because that way I can go to multiple stores without worrying about my stuff.
Now, I’m gonna get started on crocheting at least 4 bags for the big basket in the back, and one WIDE one for the basket in the front.
Pictures after the read more and if any of you save pics of my inside home I’ll be in your walls.
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They wanted us to metal wrap the grates to make the basket but me and dad don’t trust shit lmao this is a zip tie family. First pic is from last night close to when we stopped for the night. I was shocked we were able to do the whole thing next to the front door right in front of our armchairs lol. We did this in relative comfort.
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ghost-proofbaby · 8 months ago
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twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)
"THE FIRST DATE"
EXTRA CONTENT - "BEYOND THE HOURS"
→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader → warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni → wc: 7k+ → a/n: the very long awaited first date. this was requested by several people. wahoo! also, fair warning for second-hand embarrassment. i think eddie munson is the only person who drag me dancing around a bowling alley and i wouldn't smite them on the spot.
enjoy the main story's masterlist here
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EDDIE: What about a fancy dinner date?
YOU: boring.
YOU: and too traditional. when were you even born, Munson? the 60s???
EDDIE: Ha. Ha. I don’t see you making any worthwhile suggestions, sweetheart. 
YOU: i don’t have to make any suggestions, old man. YOU’RE supposed to be wooing ME 
God forbid anyone walked in on you at this moment. 
You were like a high schooler, lying on your stomach with your feet kicking up into the air as you stared at the screen, happily bantering with Eddie over text. All the butterflies, all the blissful jitters, all that dopamine rush that comes with school girl crushes – every single cliche was present and was in full force as you discussed the details of your first date with him. You used to scoff (albeit with hidden longing) at all the romance movies that you truly believed had overplayed all the giddiness, but now you got it. It was disgusting, the way he had you wrapped around his finger so easily, the way he had turned you into a heart-eyed shell of the woman you once were in the matter of a week. 
EDDIE: So you have a thing for older men is what you’re telling me.
YOU: i NEVER said that.
EDDIE: Didn’t have to, sweetheart. I can read between the lines. 
Over the last week, since the two of you had won the bet and you had won over with insistence on him properly asking you out, Eddie had been tossing around date ideas as he tried to plan this very first occasion. The only time you had even seen him was when your entire group met up, the latest outing having been for brunch on Saturday under the guise celebrating the one week anniversary of you and Eddie surviving twenty four hours together without killing each other. 
Didn’t stop him from calling and texting you. And it clearly hadn’t deterred him from losing his mind over doing right by you with this entire first date ordeal. 
YOU: i don’t even have the energy to explain to you how many times you have proven to not do that in the past. 
EDDIE: I’ve read between the lines in the past! 
YOU: you most certainly have NOT
EDDIE: I was able to read when you wanted to kiss me that night. That’s reading between the lines.
And so the giddiness rears its head, full fledged as heat swarms your body and your cheeks ache from your smile. 
YOU: i hate you 
EDDIE: No, you don’t
YOU: i do. i really do. 
EDDIE: You’re such a shit liar
You nearly jump out of your skin when there’s a knock on your dorm’s door, annoying and persistent as it taps out some random rhythm that must be a song of some sort. But whatever song it is, you can’t recognize it as you stand, walking over to answer. 
“Did you forget your key aga-” you begin, assuming it was just your roommate. You’re shocked to see Robin and Steve standing there, “What are you guys doing here?” 
“We had a study date, in case you had forgotten and not seen our hundreds of texts,” Steve huffs, quickly crossing his arms. 
You hadn’t seen their texts. Most of your screen time had been a bit preoccupied with a certain metalhead. 
“Oh, shit,” your face falls as you open the door wider, side-stepping and motioning for them to come in. 
“Yeah,” Steve snarks as he comes right in, Robin hot on his trails and seeming in a far more pleasant mood as the boy mocks you, “Oh, shit.” 
Robin stops beside you as Steve helps himself to a seat in your desk chair, “Don’t mind him. He’s just cranky because he has to get A’s on all his mid-terms to keep his 3.0.” 
“I am not cranky-”
“You are!” 
“Am not!” 
“You so are,” Robin continues to egg him on, choosing your bed as her resting place. 
Your phone bounces a bit from the way she throws herself down on the sorry excuse for a mattress, and you recall how you had yet to reply to Eddie. Fuck.
“When did we even make these plans?” you ask, genuinely confused as you shut the door. You already miss the peace and quiet of being alone, free to preen at your phone and giggle to your heart’s content at the world’s worst flirt over text.
“Saturday,” Steve groans, throwing his head back. 
“It was after brunch,” Robin clarifies, lifting herself up from how she was lounging amongst your blankets, “I mean, you seemed a bit distracted when you agreed, but… We did text you about it.” 
You had been distracted. Eddie had managed to quietly ask the waitress to include your tab with his so he could pay for it without your knowledge, and you’d spent the entire time torn between being upset with the boy and absolutely fawning. It was a bit pathetic, looking back at it – the fact that those were the only two options your mind had presented you with. You’d scorned him over the phone later that night, and he had only laughed. You swear you can still hear it now, having heard it several times since – a low chuckle that rattled into the caverns of your chest, that bounced amongst vines of affection and willed open blooms of adoration just a little bit wider. 
Part of you was still waiting for the wilting. For the other shoe to drop, for all of what had been exposed and had been planted to vanish from your grasps. That first Monday morning, you’d even woken up worried it had all been a dream. 
“I’ve been busy,” you lamely try to excuse your radio silence. 
“Busier than normal?” Steve’s brows quirk up, leaning back in your chair that emits a squeak of protest, “Or have you just been busy with new friends?” 
Your lips twist and your nose twitches in confusion, “New friends? What the Hell are you going on about, Harrington?” 
Robin fully sits up now, watching with piqued interest.
“Eddie,” Steve gets straight to the point, his previous sour mood finally melting slightly, “You can’t honestly tell me that nothing changed after that night.” 
It was something neither of you had really discussed. Steve had seen you two, knew that a lot had truly changed based off of the way you’d tossed him right into the middle of the mess there at the end, but you and Eddie had never said anything about being together. Not to your friends, and not even to each other. 
“Just because I don’t want to tear his head off his shoulders anymore doesn’t mean we’re spending every waking moment together,” you force your best scowl, as if that wasn’t exactly what you had yearned for all week. 
Eventually, it had to wear off. That’s what you told yourself – at some point the initial rose tones would fade less vibrant, and Eddie’s intense occupation of your mind would lessen with the hues. 
“I can’t believe it, but I am siding with Stevie on this one,” Robin finally contributes, “I mean, you guys won’t even tell us what happened that night.” 
“Nothing exciting,” you’re quick to lie, “Just… I don’t know. Boring stuff. Getting on each other’s nerves, sitting around on his couch,” that gets a bitter scoff from Steve that almost makes you freeze up. Damn Eddie for teasing him with the truth about the couch, “Nothing worth making a big deal over. Like I said, we just learned to… to… tolerate each other.”
Tolerate was an interesting way to put spending hours on the phone together each night, sometimes falling asleep while still on the line. 
Steve still looks as though he’s recalling all of Eddie’s annoying taunts from that night while Robin only grins salaciously. 
“Tolerate each other?” she mimics you, leaning forward and pressing her palms into the edge of the mattress beside her knees, “Babe, have you two even said a single mean thing to each other since that night? I think he even smiled at you on Saturday. You’re practically married with two and a half kids already.”
He had smiled at you – multiple times. And each one had struck the most delicate of daggers right into your chest, lighting you aflame under his attempted clandestine attention. Every time those big, brown eyes had met yours from across the table, the ache you’d started to hold for him had only doubled in size. By the end of that morning, when the day had technically started to bleed out into the afternoon, you were nothing more than a vessel of pining for the boy that you hadn’t even gotten the chance to brush against amongst your friends. 
“Whatever,” you murmur as you reach out to snatch up your phone, “I never even understood the whole half kid thing. Like, how the fuck do you have two and a half kids?” 
“I’m sure Eddie would be more than happy to show you,” Steve teases despite his still half-traumatized look.
You’re quick to reach out a hand to whack the back of his head, “Shut up. Are we gonna keep sitting here while you two try to pry something that doesn’t exist out of me, or are we going to go study?” 
Steve’s grumpy mood returns as he rubs the back of his head, him and Robin standing in sync to exit the room.
But before the three of you exit the dorm, you check your phone one last time, having to bite down on that girlish grin when you see two new text message notifications. 
EDDIE: It’s official. I’m a genius. 
EDDIE: Say, are you free tomorrow night? 
Tomorrow night couldn’t come fast enough. A shift at your job, one too many hours spent sitting through lectures, ensuring a night of studying with Steve and Robin — all petty distractions, roadblocks on your path to the most highly anticipated first date of your life. Eddie wouldn’t even entertain you with details, only telling you to dress fairly comfortably and to put on your best game face.
And you did. To some extent, you really did.
But you’d finished getting ready hours in advance, something you blamed on nerves, and having that much time to kill with such nerves was dangerous.
Simple makeup turned a bit more extravagant, you had tried on nearly every outfit in your possession, you’d even eyed your hair curler on more than one occasion.
Comfortable. What the Hell was that even supposed to mean?
Your only solution had been to text the man of the hour himself, something to busy your thumbs instead of twiddling them or involving them in taking your date night look several steps over just comfortable.
YOU: okay, so. can you define ‘dressing comfortably’?
EDDIE: According to Google, “dressing in a way that makes you feel at ease in your body” :)
YOU: fuck off. you know that’s not what i meant.
Still no clues. He wasn’t caving so easily to your pestering. You should have known better, considering he’d been professionally dodging any questions or inquiries you had regarding the date for the last twenty four hours.
EDDIE: Don’t overthink it, sweetheart.
That certainly didn’t help. Not even in the slightest. 
You don’t even reply to his text, already back to pacing your dorm before you finally cave to an impulsive decision you’d been grappling with for hours now. 
There was a newish, sporty skirt in the bottom of your drawers. It was comfortable, it had built-in shorts, and it looked damn good on you. The hem fell right around mid-thigh and always flared in an overly satisfying fashion when you’d spin while wearing it. The material of the pleats was nearly impossible to wrinkle. It wasn’t overly soft against your palms as you still nervously smoothed it down once you’d shimmied it on, but you still repeated the motion in hopes of soothing some of your nerves.
You’re sure it’s the wrong option until Eddie sees you in it.
He texts when he’s on his way and you find yourself bounding outside to wait for him far too early to be reasonable. He hadn’t even arrived until after your back had nearly become one with the brick exterior of the dorm building's front wall, leaning into the scratch of the clay on your shoulder blade a welcome distraction until you heard the roar of a motorcycle engine. 
You nearly grow dizzy from the sudden rush of nerves.
This is really happening. You’re about to go on a date with Eddie, the first time of what you hope will be many to come. 
“Took you long enough, Munson,” you snark loud enough for him to hear as he clicks the Yamaha’s kickstand into place right by the vibrant red curb. There’s a sign not even a full foot away from where he’s standing that clearly spells out NO PARKING. 
Oh.
Oh.
If you hadn’t already been riddled with nerves, your knees would have gone weak at the sight of him. 
Since when is that dressing casual and comfortable? 
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I keep you waiting?” he shoots right back as he lifts the helmet off his head, and something inside of you clenched tightly at the sight with no plans to unwind any time soon.
Dark wash jeans plaster his legs, heavy combat boots smacking against the pavement as he walks to meet you halfway. The black shirt he’s donning isn’t extravagant, but something in the way that t-shirt material stretches across his chest has you burning from the inside out. He’s even gone so far as to tuck the shirt into the jeans, his black leather belt on show as he hugs the helmet below his bicep. And his normal leather jacket — you don’t believe you’ve ever seen it look better, ever seen it fit his shoulders so snugly. He’s dressed to perfectly match the all black bike, the image of a bad boy straight out of every cheesy movie you’d ever seen. 
The only thing that breaks the illusion is the boyish grin pulling the arrival of his dimples along with it as he watches you push off the wall. His eyes are sparkling as you approach him, a constellation of hope and new beginnings twinkling right before you. 
He’s not sorry that you waited on him. Not in the slightest. Especially when those starry eyes travel over your appearance.
You have to force yourself to tsk, because otherwise you might end up just another pile of ash for the poor landscapers to sweep up, “Haven't you heard it’s rude to keep a lady waiting?” 
You stop in your steps just far enough to catch the way his eyes take you in. Drinking slowly. Following the trace of the just fancy enough tank top that you’d chosen to balance the skirt. Lingering on the plush of your inner thighs, barely peeking out the bottom of your chosen outfit for the night.
You almost start to feel self conscious until he lets out a little sigh, nearly a whimper as his eyes trail back up to find yours.
“I’m sure I have,” he chokes out, composure momentarily vanished as you distract him so easily, “But aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” 
“I could say the same about you.” 
You’re like a shark. If you stop swimming in the upstream flirtations, you’ll drown instantaneously in his big brown eyes.
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” you swear you see a hint of a blush across the highs of his cheek bones and sides of his neck as he holds out the helmet for you, “At least with me, it will.” 
“Even the top secret location of this date?” you ask as you take the helmet, considering putting up a fight. You still hated him not wearing one for your expense, and you weren’t exactly eager for any sort of helmet hair, “Do I have to wear-“
He knows the end of your sentence before you even finish, “Yes. No exceptions; you have to wear it every time you ride.”
“Every time?” 
“It’s for safety.” 
“Isn’t it sort of unsafe for you to go without one?” 
“You’re wearing the helmet,” he sighs, nose twitching with indignation as he holds staunchly onto the position, “And to answer your other question, no. I guess flattery will get you almost everywhere, but it’s a surprise.” 
You fiddle with the chin straps, looking down as you feel his gaze burning the top of your head from this angle, “Fine. But we really should just get me my own helmet. You need to wear one, too. And…” you look back up, pausing before you properly put on the piece of safety equipment, “It’s a little oversized. You know, considering it was meant to fit your big head first.” 
He narrows his eyes, still lit up with a sort of playfulness you haven’t grown accustomed to being on the receiving end of. 
You like him quite a bit more than you bargained for. A lot more than five hundred dollars, or twenty four hours, ever would have summarized. 
“We can go helmet shopping another day.” 
We. Not just him, not just you. But you and him. A unit. A couple.
“It’s a date,” you whisper just before you slide on the helmet. You completely miss the wildfire that the ghost of a blush has finally become. You completely miss the way that your talk of you two together, you two as a couple with a future, affects him just as his has an effect on you. 
Helmet hair is worth it, you decide, once you’ve saddled onto the bike behind him and he revs up the engine once more. You’re not as shy as you had been on that fateful night the week before, quick to wrap your arms around his middle and let your chest press hard against his back. The leather crinkles against the contact, the heat of him radiating, and you think you could spend forever like that. 
You’re almost upset that you can’t smell his cologne through the helmet. That once terrible scent of boy. 
Every curve and every slow stop is another excuse to cling to him tighter, every red light a reason for him to turn his head and catch a glimpse of you with a small grin that never once falters. You swear at one of the lights, when he revs his engine in a particularly rowdy fashion right as the light turns green and takes off particularly fast, you can hear his laughter over the loud wind mingling with the roaring engine. You know you can feel it, vibrating in his chest right along with your own that gets lost in the chaos of the unusually busy Tuesday night street. 
When he pulls into the parking lot behind the older building, you catch sight of the neon sign out front and find yourself laughing again. 
“Bowling?” you question, yanking the helmet off less than gracefully as he stands off the bike you’d just swung yourself off of, “You’re taking me bowling?” 
He takes the helmet from you, suddenly looking a bit shy as he averts his gaze, “Not just any bowling. It’s… It’s the coolest bowling alley you will ever go on a first date at.” 
“You say that to every girl you bring here?” 
You’re just teasing him, trying to poke fun rather than succumb to all the fluttering that bruises your inner chest and stomach. But then he has to ruin your fun, strike a match and set you aflame so adroitly.  
“Only the prettiest ones.” 
You should continue the banter, challenge him on just who else fell into that category, but you can’t. It’s in that glimmer of his eyes and the indent of his dimples, the way he looks at you as he slowly rises and somehow softens his gaze all while keeping a threat of a bite beneath the tone. His eyes tell you that you are, without a doubt, the prettiest girl he’s referring to. That in this moment, you begin and you end his world, and not even the commotion of traffic or nip in the air that creeps up as the summer sun sets can deter his attention being set solely on you.
But his tone suggests something far more dangerous. He says it like you’re a prey, an unattainable catch that he’ll be chasing for the entire night. A wicked growl to that voice you’ve been falling asleep to over the phone far more than you care to admit in just a short week. 
He says it like he’s going to ruin you. As if he hasn’t already injected himself into your veins, as if he isn’t the gasoline drowning and raging the burn within you. 
But he keeps up the gentleman persona in the short walk up to the door of the establishment. Holds out his hand for yours to fit perfectly into, guides you to the inner sidewalk as cars fly past and the only thing between you and them is him. 
 The hunt is on from the moment he opens that door for you. 
“Ever the gentleman,” you muse, voice hardly above a whisper as you brush past him and finally catch that smell of boy. 
You think you’d drown in his cologne now if he gave you the chance. Bury your face in his chest, wrap your arms around him and press any inch of your own bare skin to his. 
“Always,” it would have been a weak response if he’d only said it and nodded his head, but he takes it a step further. Right as you pass him, entering the brisk AC, his hand ghosts over the expanse of your lower back. Fingertips nimbly brushing right above the band of that skirt, grazing your tank top just hard enough for you to feel it and shiver. 
It doesn’t stop there. The back and forth, the chase, the hunt.
The way he makes sure your knuckles brush his as he hands you your shoes, even more brushes of his palm flat against your lower back repetitively, the way he insists on a heavier ball that makes his arms strain and muscles display. Over the chatter from the bowling alley’s fairly nice bar and the music trickling out of the overhead speakers, you’re sure that your heartbeat has joined the ranks of audible noises to echo the nice haunt. You’re positive he can hear every thump, can pinpoint the exact moments that poor aching muscle inside your chest begins to race. 
You go for a smaller weighted ball. You don’t think you could handle anything heavier with your current case of weak knees.
“Only an eight pounder?” Eddie tuts at you as you approach your designated lane again, “Come on, sweetheart. You can do better than that.” 
No, I can’t. Your fault, really.
“I have weak arms,” you try to defend yourself as you rotate the red ball in your hands. 
His favorite color. It hadn’t been intentional, but the swirling shades of stark scarlet and deep maroons is a nice touch. 
“Poor baby,” he teases, leaning into you as you deposit the ball right behind his own ball on the track where it already rests.
A twelve pounder. A smoky quartz design, black base swirling with misty white and gold accents. Far prettier than yours by a landslide. 
And fitting for the pretty boy you’re faced with when you turn to watch him shedding his leather jacket onto the bench a few steps away. 
“Not all of us are some big, strong macho man,” you scowl insincerely, moving to sit beside him and follow his lead in switching out shoes, “I’m betting now that by halfway through the game, you’ll be caving and begging to use my ball, Munson.” 
You’re looking down as you casually say it, one shoe already half off and unaware of just how close he had gotten until his hand reaches over. Not even a second later, he has your chin pinched between his fingers, gentle as it guides you and forces you to look at him, “Careful. Bets seem to be awfully dangerous when it comes to the two of us.” 
Damn him. Damn him, damn him, damn him. 
The graze of those fingers against your jaw leaves a trail of ash, burning that lingers and thrums beneath your skin, heart officially skipping beats rather than merely speeding up. You’re coming to realize that when it comes to keeping up with Eddie Munson in his element, in all his charm and flirtatious banter, you’re a bit hopeless.
He has you trapped under his thumb — metaphorically and literally.
“Are you always this flirtatious with all your dates?” you spit out against your better judgment.
Why do I keep bringing up his previous flames? Do I really care? Do I really want to put myself through the torture of hearing about all of the girls, or guys, he’s wooed before me? 
The same glittering eyes, the same hidden smirk from earlier. “Only the prettiest ones.” 
“You keep saying that,” you mumble, chin pressing into his fingertips against their hold, “Just how many pretty dates have you had?” 
The pride softens in an instant. His gaze is less sharp, grin less predatory as he raises his eyebrows. 
“Does it really matter?” 
You can’t help it. Your mind races ahead of you before you can stop it; you’re plagued in an instant with images of how many dates, how many other people he had indulged in over the year you two had wasted hating each other. You try to recall overhearing him describe any of those dates, try to remember if Nancy ever mentioned Eddie passing up one of the hangouts for a romantic endeavor.
You come up empty handed, but it doesn’t stop the overthinking. 
“I guess not,” you feebly answer, unable to tear your eyes from him. 
I guess not is really code for it matters so much more than I care to admit. An impossible riddle you can’t even expect him to pick up on. 
His hand falls from your chin and finds home on your bare knee, warm palm swallowing it up. He gives it a squeeze, and you wonder for a moment if maybe he can read your secretive language. Maybe he’s seeing right through your overconfident front, maybe he has felt every racing of your pulse. 
Maybe, he’s as nervous as you are.
He opens his mouth to say something, but you don’t think you can bear another moment of this new intimacy. It had been easier when the two of you were on a ticking clock, confined to his apartment and parameters of a bet that never really mattered. Vulnerability had less of an edge when you could yearn and pine to see it flourish in the real world — but now, here it was, twisting away within you both a week later and pricking away as the stakes at hand come to light. 
“Are you ready for me to absolutely demolish your ass at this game?” you joke.
“Demolish me? That’s some big talk for someone using an eight pound ball, babe.”
“It’s not about how much you’re packing, pretty boy,” you scoff, “Just that you know how to use it.” 
He smiles slowly, but the quick squeeze of his hand tells you the vulnerability is here to stay. He feels that cutting edge too, and he’s not shying away. 
He leans right into it, just as he does your personal space, “Bring it on.” 
“You’re cheating!”
“I’m not!”
“You are! Who the fuck gets three strikes in a row?” 
Eddie strolls back towards you, self-satisfied smirk curling his lips and his hips swaying with arrogance as you continue to pout at his sudden show of sportsmanship, “I believe the answer is me, sweetheart. Wanna see me make it four?” 
“I hope you just jinxed yourself,” you scowl as you hop up off the couch and Eddie swaggers right past you, hardly affected by the palm you smack into the center of his chest for good measure, “I hope you roll nothing but gutter balls the rest of the game, you prick.” 
“Like you have been?” 
“Burn in Hell.” 
Eddie’s cackle echoes through the fairly busy alley. It wasn’t overwhelming, the lanes of either side of yours staying empty, the only other groups several ways down. So far, the date has been good. Even if Eddie was wiping the floor with your severe lack of skill. 
Both of you had opted for Cokes rather than alcohol, Eddie had ordered some sort of platter with onion rings and mozzarella sticks that the two of you had easily been devouring between turns. Playful banter had been kept up easier than breathing, barking words without bite being snapped back and forth loud enough for the entire establishment to hear the two of you being exceptionally childish. 
At some point, your nerves had melted. And you didn’t even need a lick of alcohol in your system for it to happen. 
“Try to aim for the pins this time,” Eddie continues to taunt you from where he’s spread out on the brown faux leather bench you’d been taking turns warming the seat of. 
Your fingers slide into the holes of your ball with ease, courtesy of the grease from all your snacking, “Try shutting the fuck up.” 
More of his laughter sounds off, and you nearly trip on your walk up to the markings on the linoleum wood flooring. It’s a nice sound; a beautiful response to words that could easily read identical to how the two of you used to fight. But these aren’t fighting words, they’re words passed between two… two… friends? 
Is that how you should continue to classify this? Were you and Eddie really still just friends? 
The sound of your ball stuttering in hops across the beginnings of the lane replaces his laughter 
No. Easy question – there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that the two of you were definitely not friends. Not enemies, not friends – something different and something unspoken. And for the remainder of this date, you could live with that. 
Eddie sucks in an audible breath, letting the air whistle between his teeth as your ball veers at the last second and misses the pins entirely. Again. 
“Th-”
“Don’t,” you interrupt him, spinning on your heel and holding up a warning finger. It’s harder to hold in your own grin when Eddie’s already smiling into his fist, leaning his elbows onto his thighs as his big eyes peer at you, clearly amused, “Don’t say a word.” 
His knuckles dig further into his mouth.
“I meant to do that.” 
His eyebrows shoot up, still not speaking.
“It takes real talent to avoid pins like that.” 
He leans over a bit further, and you swear you hear him emit a snort from behind that damn fist. 
You open your mouth to continue with the bit when the clattering of your ball returning to the ball rack comes from behind you. Eddie only shrugs cheekily as he finally drops his fist to grab for a mozzarella stick, his smile contained but those damn dimples still flashing you brilliantly. 
Without taking your eyes off him, you hold up a warning finger for emphasis once more, trying to bite down any signs of your own amusement as you take a few steps back in the direction of the rack and repeat yourself, “I meant to do that.” 
“Sure you did,” he muses before taking a bite of the mozzarella stick smothered in marinara sauce. 
“I did.”
“I believe you.” 
“I-”
It seems the Universe is in the business of interrupting you two. As if it seems all that hope and potential flourishing in the space between you two and decides that simply won’t do. As if it’s too much. 
Maybe it is. But maybe, just maybe, you’re enjoying too much. 
Suddenly, before you can even finish your sentence or grab for your ball, the lights of the alley have dimmed. A few spotlights over the alleys themselves light up, erratically waving patches of light over the shining floor as the music that had been playing overhead cuts out to be replaced with some poor employee’s voice. 
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen-” you and Eddie share a confused glance, “-The time is officially ten o’clock, meaning nineties night has officially begun! Have fun, and enjoy yourselves as we throw you back to the decade of Nirvana and Beanie Babies for the rest of the night with these straight jams.” 
Your face scrunches up in a comical cringe before the buzzing static of the speaker can even cut out and the beginning lines of Say My Name by Destiny’s Child begins to play. 
You aren’t entirely sure of how it happens. Maybe it’s all the playfulness in there, in all that electric teasing at the tip of Eddie’s tongue and all that hopelessness bubbling up in your chest as it dawns on you of the fact you were finally on a proper date with Eddie. Maybe it’s simply a good night for you to continue to make a fool of yourself, and Eddie sees it as a chance he’ll always be right there with you, prepared to make a scene as he follows your lead. 
He stands up to approach you where you’re still rooted beside the rack, matching your own grin that blooms genuinely at the sound of the song. 
It was one of your favorite’s. A small fact about yourself you don’t think you’ve ever told Eddie – that you can remember. 
It’s small, at first. Just mouthing along to the first verse as he moves towards you, recognizing that excitement lighting up in you, shimmying his shoulders ever so slightly. He looks like an idiot – he’s absolutely your idiot. 
“Did you know it was nineties night?” you mumble as he gets closer, shaking your head slightly.
“Stevie might have mentioned something about you enjoying nineties nostalgia,” he drawls, still taking sure steps towards you. 
“Did you ask him for advice for our first date, Eddie?” 
“No,” he scoffs quickly, finally close enough to grab you gently by your hips. He’s nowhere near manhandling you, but it’s still reminding you of the game, of the hunt, at play. You’re his prey and he’s officially making his move. Carelessly, nonchalantly. “He mentioned it ages ago. When they were trying to convince me you weren’t all bad.” 
Your smile widens, “Was this around the time I threw a glass at your head, by chance?” 
“Maybe.” 
The dulcet instrumental of the song continues on overhead, beginning to pick up in beat, making you nod your head along as Eddie finally starts to tug you closer. 
You’re in public, and you both should know better than to make absolute fools of yourselves, but it doesn’t seem to matter when all you can really see is him. 
Your friends had also spent ages trying to convince you that Eddie wasn’t all bad, but you’d always known that much. You’d seen glimpses of the good in him from that very first night. When he’d made you feel welcome, when he’d given you a life-preserver to cling to when you’d felt most out of your element. You knew that Eddie Munson was one of those people who had a hardwired habit of trying to make people feel welcome.
Even in a room full of people, when you’d be non-stop embarrassing yourself endlessly. 
All his jests had been further proof, but when he sees your rock on your heels as you enjoy the music, he takes it a step further. He grabs one of your hands with his free one, keeping a hold of your waist, encouraging all your giddiness over the song. Every single person in the establishment could be staring at the two of you – you didn’t care. 
When he starts dramatically mouth along to the chorus of the song, swinging you around slightly, it takes very little provocation for you to join in with him. 
You both could’ve taken a step further, and properly sang along in the most obnoxious voices possible, but you don’t. There’s still the slightest blanket of security there as Eddie keeps the antics mostly silent, reserving his dramatic reenactments of vocal runs for your eyes only. Even yanking your hand up close to his mouth, as though it was a microphone, as he swings you around again. You quickly become a giggling disarray, hardly able to keep up your own footing, eyes squinting with joy and what must be the messiest and ugliest smile possible showing off all your teeth. The type of smile and laughter you’d normally try to hide on instinct. The kind of smile you cover up. 
But you can’t, because Eddie is keeping his sturdy grip on your hands with his own, and he’s drinking in every second of your joy. He’s vibrant as he watches the way he’s entertaining you. Shamelessly staring, making his antics falter. 
“Baby, say my name,” he purposefully sings along dramatically, quietly but terribly off-key.
You can’t help but let out a snort, “Eddie, you’re an idiot.” 
He ignores you, and continues to give you your own private concert, switching rapidly between singing the main song and the backup vocals, which only makes your stomach further ache with laughter. 
This is what you’d been yearning for the last year. This silly side of him, an absolute fool who couldn’t care less about the stares of others. 
The seductive side of him was enticing. The honest version of him nice. But this side of him? Carefree, rowdy, indiscreet? It may be your favorite yet. 
Only the sound of a nearby teen couple mocking you two break the moment, just as you’ve begun to jokingly whisper-sing back into Eddie’s pretend microphone made of your joined fists. They make what must be vomiting noises, and you catch the tail end of one of them jokingly poking a finger towards their outstretched tongue as you finally sigh deeply. 
You should probably feel embarrassed. Later on, when you find yourself in bed later tonight and attempt to find some rest, you’ll probably ruminate and burn yourself alive with all the embarrassment. But not right now; not with your boy still in front of you, smiling just as desperately wide as you were. 
His dimples would probably consume him if you let him go on any longer. 
“Eddie,” you choke out through residual laughter, tugging your hands free as the song starts to fade out. You make no move to remove yourself from him, though. Your arms find home around his shoulders, hands splayed just below the nape of his neck, “People are staring.” 
“Good,” he snipes back, finally dropping the act but not the glee, “Probably entranced by how pretty you look right now.” 
“Pretty? I probably look like a loser. They’re probably already engraving a trophy for world’s ugliest smile-”
“Oh, don’t do that,” his forehead falls against yours, rolling his eyes, “Shut up and take the compliment. I love your smile.” 
There’s something unspoken there. He loves your smile, yes, but he’s also been denied of it for a very long year. It’s the first step of making it up to you, making up for lost time. 
Making a fool out of himself, just to see that goddamn smile. 
With your arms around his neck, his forehead pressed against yours and the tip of his nose bumping yours, the game of bowling is all but forgotten. Even the teens, still side-eyeing the two of you, can be pushed aside in your mind. 
All your insecurities of the night that have crept in the shadows become insignificant. You don’t care how many dates Eddie has been on before you, you don’t care that you’ve clearly become a prey caught in his web. You don’t even care about the way you’re losing. 
It’s the perfect first date. When one of his hands wander, playing with the hem of your skirt, knuckles and rings brushing against bare skin, it’s perfect. 
“Hey,” you whisper, “I’ve got a question.” 
“I have an answer.” 
“You sound very sure there, big guy.” 
“I am sure,” he pulls his face away just a bit, but his gentle touch against your thigh lings. The other hand stays warm against your lower back, keeping you pressed up against him, “What’s up, sweetheart?” 
Not enemies, not friends – something different and something unspoken.
Hearing him say it out-loud will still be nice, though. 
“Does this mean we’re official?” you breathe out, trying to cling to all your bravery and not let it slip away, “Like – God, I sound like a high schooler right now – does this mean we’re… you know…”
“Dating?” he’s grinning, unable to hide his giddiness. 
“Yeah. Dating.” 
The hand tracing circles on your exposed outer thigh rises up to your cheek, brushing along it as he tucks a bit of your hair back. You swear you see it shaking out of the corner of your eye. 
“I sure would like to be,” it was shaking. You know it surely, because his voice is as well. Vulnerable and honest, just how you like him, “We don’t have to tell the others, we can take it slow, but-”
“But we’re dating.”
It’s not a question. It’s a statement – an affirmation. You and Eddie Munson, the man you swore you hated just over a week ago, were dating. 
He only nods, and you consider the way that his dimples might just swallow you whole instead of him. 
Not enemies, not friends – lovers. It has quite the nice ring to it. 
“Well, in that case,” you finally pull away, dropping your arms slowly and letting your fingers catch on the chain of the necklace he currently wears. A red guitar pick, something you’ll surely learn the story behind soon enough. “Better go and roll that fourth strike, boyfriend.” 
His head rolls back, and a joking groan falls from his lips as his neck stretches and nearly distracts you momentarily, “Don’t say it like that.” 
“Like what?” 
“Like you’re making fun of me, you little shit.” 
Another laugh falls from your lips as you step around him, quirking an eyebrow. Perfect first date, indeed. 
“Get used to it, Munson.”
“I plan to, Sweetheart.”
eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles
join my taglist!
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old-desert · 2 months ago
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Inktobertale 2024 Day 6: Hyperspeed
How convenient that I just so happened to have a biker gang au lying around, huh.
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ywpd-translations · 1 month ago
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Ride 794: The culmination race
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Pag 1
1: “There are people who you don't meet often, but when you do meet them you get along really well”
2: I heard that from a classmate a long time ago
And I thought “there's no way that there are people like that”
4: There's some strange people
5: It's funny, if they asked me now
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Pag 2
1: I'd answer “of course there are”!!
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Pag 3
1: “One of them lives in Chiba”, I'd say!!
2: One day, that guy was collapsed on Hakone and I helped him
3: Unexpectedly, he also rode a bike
4: We met again at CSP
5: Like me
6: he's a climber
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Pag 4
1: We rarely meet
but when we do meet
2: We laugh
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Pag 5
1: at the same silly things
2: Sakamichi-kun!! It's you!!
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Pag 6
1: They passed the 1km left point!!
Manami and Mountain King!
Just a few minutes until they reach the mountain line!!
Soon!
Goo Hakogaku!!
Take it, Chiba!!
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Pag 7
1: They're still neck and neck!!
Amazing, neither of them is yielding!!
It's a race of willpower!!
2: Until the mountain line
3: 800m left!!
4: My hands
5: are becoming numb
6: But I'll keep doing my best!!
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Pag 8
2: Wh-wh-what do I do
My heart is pounding in my chest....
3: They're arriving!!
Huh!? They're arriving!? Wait, my heart isn't ready
Not yet
Not yet!? Not yet!!
4: Why am I so nervous....
Even though I'm not the one running
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Pag 9
1: Even though the one who's running and having a hard time is Sangaku...
2: I'll drink this lemon tea the old lady at the ryokan gave me, and I'll calm down
3: Ohh, you're going to cheer at the Inter High?
Oh, and you come from Kanagawa!?
Yes, well
That's amazing
4: It's delicious
5: But
6: I'm stuck on one thing
7: Was it really a good thing that I came here to cheer?
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Pag 10
1: One month ago
2: Kanagawa Prefecture, Hakone Academy
3: Ah
4: Class rep
5: Huh? From above!?
Huh, where is this voice coming from!?
The boys' toilets
Ah!?
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Pag 11
1: Wait a moment, there's something I wanna ask you
Toi... ah!?
2: Huh!? Wait!? What!? Directly!?
Use the inside stairs... be caref....
2: Hop
Okay I get it, I get it, I'll come there
4: You know the other day... while I was running... a butterfly was flying,. And then I thought “oh, it's gone?”
And then when I went home and took off my jersey, it came out of it fluttering
What- you just came down the second floor so smoothly and started making conversation!!
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Pag 12
1: Am I not amazing like a magician!?
Boys are strong...
Ah, yes yes, that's true
2: Is that all you wanted to tell me? I've been asked to go to the audiovisual room to bring these documents
3: Are you coming to the Inter High?
5: Huh
6: “Something he wanted to ask”
This year
Ah
7: “Inter High”
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Pag 13
1: You came to the Inter High every year
I didn't know you liked road racing so much, Class rep
I...
2: I always thought
You even passed me a drink on the mountain last year
I thought
3: After last year's Inter High ended
4: I kept thinking about it even on the train home
5: that it was because I went to see him that Sangaku...
6: lost
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Pag 14
1: I know it's unrelated... but, at the same place, screaming the same words
This year it'll be in Kyushu thought, so it's far...
2: It's small, it's a small thing, but if it gets in Sangaku's way
Hakogaku is going by plane, so it's easy
3: If he was even just a little distracted because of me and that made a small difference
(Win, Sangaku!!
Win, Sangaku!!)
4: Then I think it's better if I don't go this year
6: Because I want him to win
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Pag 15
1: Ah, as expected Kyushu is too over-budget
That's not... ah... uhm
2: …. yeah, sorry
3: Well, I'll tell you the highlights
There'll be a camera, so you can watch videos
4: Watch it
The first day's mountain
“The first day's... mountain”
5: I think Sakamichi-kun will probably there too
“Sakamichi-kun”... the guy with the round glasses
6: We'll probably fight there
I think
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Pag 16
1: It will be the culmination race of these three years
2: “Culmination”!!
3: “Of these three years”...!!
4: Such heavy words... this is Sangaku being serious
Culmination....!?
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Pag 17
1: We have to fulfill our promise, so I'm sure Sakamichi-kun will come
2: “Sakamichi-kun”... they must be... close friends....
3: I think it'll probably end up being our best race
4: A... are you close friends!? You.. you and that Sakamichi-kun!?
5: Hahaha
Well, I guess
6: Even though we only contact each other two or three times a year
And that's being close friends!?
7: I lost against him during our first year... Hakogaku ended up losing, so I resented him
But I was blaming the wrong thing, because after all it was because of my lack of ability, wasn't it?
8: Now we often talk after races
Is... that so
9: But why don't you send more texts to each other? Is- is he really a close friend!?
Of course!!
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Pag 18
1: After all we both “like hills”
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Pag 19
2: Come see me if you can save money
Ye... yeah
3: Sangaku's smiling face that day was incredibly persuasive
I really wanted to see you race
4: So I came
to Kyushu!!
5: But
7: I really don't want to move forward, after all
It's enough if I can just see him a little... from behind here
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Pag 20
1: What are you doing
2: Hyaa I'm sorry!!
I'm sorry for not paying attention to who was behind me! I'll just lean down a little!
Why don't you move forward?
3: Huh
4: Isn't he
5: a close friend of yours, and you used to always listen to his nonsense?
To... Toudou-san!!
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luck-of-the-drawings · 3 months ago
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OOH YEAH BABY ITS THE SURGERY EPISODE BABY!!! ME AND THE HOMIES NEED SOME NEW FACES FOR OUR NEW PLAN, AND WHO BETTER TO GET THE JOB DONE THAN THE TWO MOST EVIL PEOPLE WE'VE EVER HAD THE MISFORTUNE OF HAVING OUR LIVES VIOLATED BY? I MEAN IT WOULD BE FUNNY. IT WOULD BE FUNNY.
#jrwi fanart#jrwi show#cw blood#cw gore#jrwi suckening#jrwi suckening spoilers#vex waylin#viv waylin#MY FAVORIT EP!! HAVNT SEEN IT IN FOREVER THO BC WELL. IM BUSY. SO BEAR W ME IM RUNNIN OFF ALOTTA MEMORY FUMES#ALSO EDIT BC FUUUCK I HADMORE TAGS BUT TUMBLR FUCKEN ATE EM. OH WELL. MY DMS R OPEN IF U WANNA UNLOCK RAMBLES.#I LOVE THE WAYLIN TWINS SSSOO FUCKING MUCH IM SO!!! CURIOUS ABOUT THEM!!! WHO WERE THEY WHEN THEY WERE HUMAN? HOW LONGVE THEY BEEN ARND?#I LOVE IT WHEN PPL SAY ITS LIKE THESE TWO WERE MADE FOR MMEE BC YES!! YES!! ITS EVERYTHING I COULD EVER WANT FROMA CHARACTER!!!#I LOVE THEIR RED WHITE N BLACK COLOR SCHEME. I LOVE HOW THEYRE BOTH SO INTELLIGENT AND GENIUS N YET THEYRE DUMB AS FUUUUCK#COOOMICAL SUPER VILLAINS. OOH ILL GET YOU NEXT TIME SHAMIA SHAMAI!!! HOW DARE YOU FOIL MY PLAN!! MY PLANS OF MUTILATING AWAKE N ALIVE PPL#COMICAL AND YET. GENUINELY HORRIFYING. VIV CAN MAKE UR BONES EXPLODE JUST BY THINKING ABOUT IT. VEX CAN BECOME SOUP#WHY DONT WE TALK ABOUT THAT MORE? THE TURNING INTO RED MEAT SLIME?? METAL AS FUUUCK. I ALSO LOVE HOW SCARED THEY GOT SO QUICKLY#THIS LIL FUCKEN RRRRRAT COMES IN. AND WELL. HES JUST LIKE ALL THE OTHERS. WE FUCK HIM UP N TOSS HIM INTO THE SUN N LET HIM BURN#SURE HE HAD ONE MORE TRICK OF REBELLION UP HIS SLEEVE BUT THE SUN HAS TAKEN HIM NOW. ITS FINE. WE'RE FINE. HEY IS THERE SMTH IN THE CEILING#OHHH WE KILLED HIM ONCE N HE CAME BACK. WE KILLED HIM AGAIN N TOOK HIM APART BUT THEN HES BACK?? HE GETS AWAY AND THEN. COMES BACK. AGAIN.#WE CANT GET RID OF HIM. THAT FOUL SHAMIA SHAMAI. A MOUSE IN OUR KITCHEN. FUUUUCK HES GONNA SPREAD DISEASE! KILL IT! KILL IT!! AAAUUGH FUCK!#I LOVE THAT THE WAYLIN TWINS AGREED TO HELP THE BLONDE TWINS MOSTLY ON THE BASIS OF 'IT WOULD BE FUNNY' BUT ALSO#OOHHH WE ARE SO CLOSE TO REACHING SOMETHING TO MAKE HIM NNEEVER FUCK WITH US AGAIN. HIS ILLUSIONS WILL HAUNT US NO LONGER#THEY WERE SSSOOO PARANOID W ALL THE CAMERAS AND BOMBING THEIR OWN LAB AND RUNNING AND RUNNING AND GETTING AWWAY FROM THIS FUCKEN! MOUSE!!!!#OHHHH I THINK IM RUNNIN OUTA ROOM so ill talk about da art real quick.BEEN WORKIN ON THIS FOR A WHIIILE.ALOTTA THESE were started when the#ep came out.so OLD!! BUT DONE!!and im very very happy w my colors n gore n EXPRESSIONS!! the top right corner comic keeps making me chuckle#I ALSO rly love the lil convo between arthur n viv.theyre SO CUTE TOGETHERR they should go ona museum date together or somethin#they need more time to just talk abt da World together.ALSO CAN I BE PETTY.I MADE ARTHUR UGLY CORRECT-STYLE#THESE BOYS KNOW NOTHING OF UGLY.I MADE THE VAMPIRIC FLESH EVOLVE N ROT N BLOSSOM AND THERE IS SQUIRMING WITHIN THE TENEBRAE#UHHH IEAH THIS GUY W A ROTTED N DISTORTED FACE WALKS INTO MY BIKE STORE IEAH IM SCREAAAMIN LIKE WADDA HELL!! MONSTOR!!!
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cupiidzbow · 8 months ago
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we’re autism4autism have i ever mentioned that
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tomwambsgays · 2 years ago
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let's get lost
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astral-shiro · 4 months ago
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You can't tell me Senku spent however many years in the stone age wearing essentially a big deerskin dress and not get so accustomed to it, like that shit looks comfy. I'm trying to say that he'd wear skirts and dresses in the new revival era without a second thought, and I need to see more fanart of this pls I beg (I am drawing it as we speak)
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coolspacequips · 7 months ago
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B1 for Shiro/Allura? If you are only doing Lance ships though then C3 with hance?
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omg this was a hard pick bc i love both ships sm...... i thought it might be fun to draw allura w her hair down, unfortunately she didn't tie it up before falling asleep RIP, that's gonna be her whole morning
thank you so much for the request!! i had a lot of fun w this one, it's so nice to have these two specifically having some sweet down time :')
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beeholyshit · 11 months ago
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My little bebes ❤️
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gideonisms · 22 days ago
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Does a podcast ever release a take you disagree with so strongly it makes you question everything you heard on it up to that point
#this is so niche and only interesting to other people who spend 10 hours a day listening to podcasts so i'm putting it in the tags#but s1ep3 of invisibilia about the blind guy who learned to echolocate so well he could ride a bike was fucking wild#the take was like. okay okay backing up a bit we all agree disability is socially constructed in some ways right?#ie people treat blind people in certain ways that reinforce an inability to function in society get jobs etc#they have certain expectations of people who are blind that can be limiting. right. so we all agree on that#but that was not the end of the take! the take was that because disability is socially constructed the solution is#to expect the same level of independence from blind people as you do from seeing people#and that also was not the end of the take because the way this man tried to accomplish that was forcing blind children to climb trees#this guy had achieved a high level of independence but in the process of learning to echolocate had knocked out multiple teeth#he was like 'the biggest barrier to blind people's ability to function in society is their parents' love for them'#because parents prevent blind children from exploring getting close to roads etc#and anyway i think that although parents may infantilize blind children more than necessary there is a strong financial incentive to#make sure they do not get hit by a car or break a bone#the solution of just getting blind people to act exactly like seeing people also seems odd#what's wrong with requiring help from others? why have we decided independence is the only way to function in society?#should all disabled people just be willing to injure themselves in order to get as close as possible to independence#in order to hold down a job which we have decided is the only way to earn the right to live#is there only one correct way to live a life?#it truly baffled me. i was sorting that mail going 👀👀🤔#anyway. this has been your podcast take of the day
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xchronicles · 2 months ago
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I am so tired of seeing arguments against J/C, saying that Kate never wanted them together on Voyager because it would blah blah blah. Guess what? We are in agreement and we understand why it was necessary, especially when you consider the context of the time when the show was made. We fully support why it had to be done that way back then.
But times change; narratives and characters evolve, and views and perceptions shift. If anything, Voyager's inability to ever have two adult characters discuss their feelings ended up falling into another trap - they had Chakotay go after the 'prettier and younger' girl. You know what kind of message that sent to girls and women? You can have the most profound relationship in the universe with someone, yet he will still pick the prettier girl over you, even if they have nothing in common.
Prodigy had the perfect opportunity to subvert expectations by making them canon because, in retrospect, the 'will they, won't they' dynamic was predictable.
It was stated multiple times that they were afraid it would completely take over the show, but I don’t see almost anyone mentioning that this is exactly what happened with Wesley. Every podcast I listen to spends 50% of the time talking about Wesley, while the main Protostar crew is hardly ever discussed. J/C is also mentioned in passing. It all became about Wesley. In trying so hard to avoid falling into the imaginary J/C trap, they ended up in a much worse one, where all any Trek fan wants to talk about isn’t the Protostar kids or J/C, but Wesley and Wil Wheaton.
 ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
#janeway x chakotay#star trek voyager#star trek prodigy#I have yet to find a podcast where they talk about Zero's transformation#Or about Rok's creation aka Bribble and what this meant for her#Or Jankom in general. No one EVER mentions Jankom as if he isn't part of the main crew#Janeway and Chakotay have a direct connection to the Protostar kids so when you talk JC you also talk about the kids#Like why does Murf love Chakotay so much#Foreshadowing Dal and Chakotay's friendship in the Who saves the Saviours episode#Why Chakotay trusted and wanted the Protostar kids on the Protostar with him when Ascencia attacked#And how Dal went to first race and then pilot the Novas and how that foreshadows his interest in piloting when he decides he won't be capta#Wes and kids are connected only by the plot and him being the original Prodigy#But he has no effect on their development other than telling them what to do and where to go#He is a plot device#the evolved deus ex machina#No discussions about Ascencia or Ilthuran#Literally half of the time is dedicated to Wes and timetravel and how he's connected to it#Maybe they see the talk about Wes more mature and more worth having than talking about the silly JC romantic connection#which is just anti fem cause women like to talk relationships#and making fun of them for wanting to do so is a can of worms y'all are not ready to open#don't booo me you know I'm right#women are always being made fun of for their interest in relationships. Take Ellie from trek culture as an example#especially if you've listened to their podcasts which were yikes on bikes in some moments#but she's handling it like a champ and doesn't let the dudebros stop her from discussing her interests
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bikebian · 2 months ago
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another way that it chapter 2 screwed over mike i feel like was trying to make him scary when calling bill or any of the losers because like imagine getting a. call ans u hear the person saying “it’s mike” “you need to come home” LIKE SO OMINOUSLY like WHY is he so vague ? that shit doesn’t make sense….. there r millions of ppl named mike …. i still don’t understand why they did that u can make a horror movie but still intertwine the love. they focused too much on horror, the losers are just not Losers like they’re supposed to be… ur supposed to stay bc u LOVE each other not bc ur FORCED to stay
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luck-of-the-drawings · 7 months ago
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"I think this is the most inhuman; and human, that I've ever felt.." MUCH CAN HAPPEN IN A YEAR. IN FIVE YEARS. A DECADE. imagine how much can happen in a century. just ONE (1). How will you grow? what phases do you find? even in 5 years, you will find patterns.
#jrwi fanart#jrwi show#jrwi suckening#jrwi suckening spoilers#jrwi the suckening#arthur bennett#HEY SO THE REALLY FUNNY THING THAT THE CHARACTER DID THAT SEEMED RLY SILLY N GOOFY IN THE MOMENT?#LIKE THE WHIPLASH BETWEEN SERIOUS N SILLY ALMOST PISSED YOU OFF? WHAT IF I FOUND A WAY TO MAKE YOU SAD ABOUT IT#this was meant to be a scribble that would be a bigger part of a bigger page.might leave it on that page.#but still. bc o that i nearly posted it onto my wacky side blog.BUT NAYY I SPENT TOO MUCH TIME N ENERGY N YOU GOTTA SEE IT#ARTHUR BENNETT DRIVES ME CRAZY. I FEEL LIKE ITS ODD FOR HIM TO BE SO TECHNOLOGICALLY OUT OF TOUCH#WHERE HAS HE BEEN. HAS HE BEEN IN WAR? IS THAT WHERE MAGNUS CAME FROM? WHERE WAS HE WHEN HE WAS WITH EDWARDS CREW?#ARTHURRR I HAVE QUESTIONS ARTTHUUURR!! HEY CAN I ALSO ASK; WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU BECOME#DO YOU THINK HE HAD ANY IDEA HE WOULD VEER CLOSER AND CLOSER TO THE MONSTER HE DESPISES. ALL BC HE DESERVES IT. OR WATEVER#HE FASCINATES ME SO MUCH. TO LOOK AT THE STONE COLD STOIC FOOL FROM THE START OF THE SHOW#AND TO FIND OUT THAT HE USED TO BE A BAD BOY.. A DELINQUENT... A LIL PRANKSTER.... MY GODDD THATS ADORABLE#I WOULD LOVE TO KNOW MORE.... BUT I DOUBT THE LAST EPISODE IS GONNA ANSWER THOSE QUESTIONS..i love arthur bennett so much....#AS FOR THE ART!! i mostly used the fire alpaca watercolor brush. tbh im not a brush guy. anti aliased default pen tends to be my main game#but LATELY IM SQQQUIRMIN OUT OF AN ARTBLOCK so expirimenting like this is helping#DONT LOOK TOO HARD AT IT!! im still proud tho. colors are fun :3 im also very proud of the backgrounds#I LOVE THE CARTOON THING where the background looks all fancy n painted but the characters are solid colors#what else can i ramble abt. OH YEAH. i looked up the bikes to make sure they were time accurate tehehehe. 1913 to 2012.#almost a century apart!! isnt that neat? ALSO FUUUCK CAN I JUST MAKE A QUICK CONFESSION. DOWN HERE IN MY TAGS.#only the strongest can read my tags anwyay. SO I REALIZED WHY I LOVE ARTHUR SO MUCH. TIME IS A FLAT CIRCLE#while arthur is a Stoic and Cool vampire w a knack for being playful/silly; who alsos been alive fora century thus witnessing HORRORs#THERE HAPPENS TO BE A ROBOT FROM A BAND W A TITANIUM ALLOY SPINAL COLLUMN#WHOS A Stoic and Cool ROBOT w a knack for being playful/silly; who alsos been alive fora century thus witnessing HORRORS#the fuckkkiiinnngggnn The Spine from steam powered giraffe. WHATEVER. i cant escape from my heart. i guess.#i think The Spine and Arthur could be friends. Arthur saw the band perform back when they were the Steam Man Band#EDIT: WOOPS I DIDNT REALIZE THIS WOULD END UP IN THE SPG TAG. HI GUYS DIDNT KNOW U WERE STILL ALIVE SORREE 4 THE CROSS CONTAMINATION
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motogpnewbie · 2 months ago
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Tik Tok decided to make me feel things today Pt1
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justcyclingstuffs · 10 months ago
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tadej being a menace in the team bus (and looking like the sun in yellow)
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