#icon bic

[b-byvox]

mommy vs bic

[mymindisnotcommercial]

“ oh baby, light my fire “

[i-am-mr-k]

This notebook begins with the inventory of my house on the occasion of our divorce.

[undead-supernova]

HIGH TOLERANCE

Live Resin / Masterlist

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

warnings: gay disasters, Steve (derogatory), a bit of angst but that's a given for pining best friend!eddie so enter at your own risk, weed consumption (but what's new in a series about weed consumption)

pairings: modern!bestfriend!Eddie x fem!reader (both bisexual bitches)

plot: let's go sing some karaoke and feel like we're dying, shall we?

wc: 6k

p.s. I listened to "Watch" by Maisie Peters the entire time I wrote this and I just cannot for the life of me let The Good Witch go. Anyone else in a chokehold from that album? Anyways, here you go!

“For you, my good sir!” you exclaimed, feigning a British accent as you got down on one knee and presented Eddie with a joint like it was a sword. And it was an immediate scrape to your knee, your black crop top and miniskirt riding up. You tried to save yourself by planting your maroon Converse on the ground, but it was met with instant failure. Eddie chuckled, grabbing your arm to try and stabilize you before he continued the bit. 

(Leave it to Eddie Munson to commit to a bit.)

“For me?” he asked, feigning a gasp as he threw his hand over his chest, his rings clinking together. “You shouldn’t have.”

You exaggerated a wink as you stood back up. 

“Sure, I did.”

“Wha’da we got, Weirdo?”

You repeated what the guy at Jailbait Hemp told you. It was a THC-A pre-roll that was covered in live resin (which technically has a higher concentration level than just the THC-A alone). It burned differently than other joints, a glaze lining the paper to burn like honey. 

Let it in slow and watch it go.

“She sure is a pretty one,” Eddie said, lightly running the pad of his pointer finger along the resin. It didn’t flake off or leave any residue on his finger. Incredible.

You smirked. “I know, right?”

“Kinda like you.”

You swallowed immediately, nearly choking as the spit went down wherever the wrong pipe was located.

Panic, panic, panic. 

“Oh, whatever,” you said, waving him away. You distracted yourself with wiping the gravel off of the scrape on your knee that showed promise of blood but stayed put. The most embarrassing thing you could think of was having to ask someone for a Band-aid because you were too busy doing a bit with a joint to remember that you weren’t wearing pants. Eddie would love that a little too much and you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction.

“You’re right,” Eddie said with a nod, causing you to look back up. “Doesn’t come close to you, m’lady.” Without another word or time for you to even remotely process, he held out his hand and made obnoxious grabbing gestures. “Alright. Gimme, gimme. Wanna light her up.”

With shaky fingers, you handed it over. Eddie took his black Bic lighter and ran the flame back and forth against the twisted end of the paper. It took him two or three tries to keep it lit, but he finally got it, moving it around in circles to let it burn as evenly as it could. The air instantly thickened with the smell. But to be fair, you smelled weed wherever you went in Atlanta. Even on the highway somehow.

You could hear the music from Go Ask Mary from two blocks away, the bass of Madonna’s “Vogue” booming through the walls. It was almost time for karaoke to start and, to be honest, you were excited. Eddie had picked up some extra shifts at the car dealership and your shitty retail jobs at the Lenox Square mall had been draining. Especially when you were surrounded by stores like Chanel and Tiffany & Co. It was always your dream to work at a Sephora where all the pretentious rich people complained about needing a new Balenciaga bag before arguing with you when their sheer Tom Ford lipstick was out of stock. 

This was the first time you’d seen Eddie in a week, despite him practically begging to come over at 2am to watch the first Lord of the Rings movie on a Monday. The extended edition to be exact, all three hours of Elijah Wood and Sean Astin being the most iconic couple of the fantasy realm. It was embarrassing to admit, but you nearly considered calling out just so you could.

Tonight, you couldn’t wait to let off some steam, especially with the person who made every day worth it. Eddie looked as he usually did with all his chains and rings and pretty face and attitude. It was disgustingly unfair that he could wear variations of the same outfit every time you saw him and somehow looked better and better every time.

“There you guys are,” Steve sighed as he and Robin walked over from the bar. 

Steve was still in his suit, just without his tie and blazer. A few buttons of his white button down were popped with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Robin wore an oversized cotton button down, white with navy stripes and a loose navy tie. She looked like she was going to the beach for the day, even going so far as to wear jean shorts and checkerboard Vans.

“We should’ve known you were smoking,” Robin said, nose wrinkling before she pulled out her flask from her back pocket and took a few sips. “Did you know that one joint is, like, the equivalent of five cigarettes? I heard it on a podcast the other day and, believe me, that sounds bad. Like, really bad.”

“What else is new?” you joked, taking the joint from Eddie and filling your lungs with a few hearty drags. “At least we’re not vaping. That’s, what, the equivalent of a hundred cigarettes?”

Robin shook her head. “Actually, I read that a thousand-puff vape is the equivalent of five to six packs.” She paused, moving her fingers through the air as she solved the problem in her head. “So…about one-twenty?”

Eddie hummed, nodding. “Aren’t you glad I stopped smoking cigs six months ago?”

“Well, yes.”

“So smoking weed should be the least of your worries, Buckley.”

“You have a point. But honestly—"  

“Rob!” Steve interrupted. “Rob, listen. I have exciting news.”

“What is it?” you asked.

“I’m getting the first round,” he said proudly. “I got a bonus at work.”

“Thanks, Steve,” you said, genuinely touched by the offer. “That’s awesome, though. You’re literally moving up in the world.”

“Bringing in the big bucks, this one,” Eddie teased with a big smile as he took the joint from you. “Always a generous giver.”

Steve glared at Robin. “She thinks I should quit.”

“No, I do not!” Robin argued. “I just think you’re in a weird environment with weird men—" 

The high was already making its way through you, causing you to not-so-subtly stare at Eddie again. His eyes were trained on yours as Steve and Robin rattled on, entering some bickering fest that you were positive he wasn’t listening to. And the way he was looking at you… Well, it didn’t seem that platonic, did it? 

His eyes were doing that thing again, that slow gaze down your body before reaching back up to your eyes. Your fingers inched just a little bit closer to his and you almost swore you could hear his rings again as they fluttered towards yours. 

Robin cleared her throat, causing you to look back at her. She was eyeing you specifically, not even bothering to look at Eddie. 

Could she see it? What did she know? Was there anything to know?

“Well, we’ll be inside,” she said, grabbing Steve’s arm. “Have fun with the extra cancer!”

Eddie chuckled. “Thanks, Buckley.”

You watched them walk away, right back in their little fight. It was nice to be around them again. Truly, it was. You didn’t have too many friends outside of Eddie, always working during the week and never truly finding time to go out unless Eddie dragged you along. You could engage in small talk with strangers at Go Ask Mary on the weekends, but it was different when you got home and found your phone void of anyone to tell those stories to. Zero messages, not even from your parents or your sister. No Instagram DMs of cute animals or Tumblr messages of photography and memes. Just a phone that looked more like a coffin full of wires than access to the whole world.

Except for Eddie.

As he turned back to you, he lifted the joint and let it hover just above your lips. 

“Want some more?” he asked.

You looked up at him, nearly startled by how close he was to you. God, what was it about him? Maybe it was the dark color of his eyes, still illuminated in the warm sunset, nearly glazed over with a golden sheen. Maybe it was the way his hair was doing that thing after a fresh wash where the ends were slightly curlier than the rest. Or maybe it was the way his tips of his sneakers were meeting yours and the smell of tobacco and car air freshener was wafting off of him.

“Come on, you can’t deny you want it.”

“Um,” you stumbled. “Yeah. Yeah, I want it.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, you felt his fingers grazing your mouth as he placed it in between your lips. You took a long, slow drag while your eyes never left his. You wanted to look away. Really, you did. If anything, the sparks settling in your stomach were starting to pop and sizzle unlike ever before. 

You just couldn’t help yourself.

And if anything, he didn’t seem like he could either.

Tonight was going to be interesting.

The bar wasn’t very crowded, but that’s why you liked to go as a group during the week. Even if there weren’t many people looking to do karaoke on a Tuesday, it didn’t matter. There were four of you ready to tear up the fucking stage.

You went in rotation for solo performances, Robin singing “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac followed by you singing “Love Is a Stranger" by Eurythmics (despite it technically not being from the Eighties) followed by Eddie doing “The Stroke” by Billy Squire and finishing with Steve’s off-key rendition “Africa” by Toto.

When Steve returned from his noteworthy performance, the three of you congratulated him. He did a little bow before wiping the sweat off his forehead. 

Eddie patted the table and said, “Alright, I’ll go get the next round.” As he was about to leave, he looked at you. “Still want a vodka Redbull?”

“Of course,” you said with a smile. 

He gave you a quick wink. “Just checking, Weirdo.”

“Thanks.”

You turned back to Steve and Robin, watching Steve dab his face with a napkin. He was mostly definitely inching towards being drunk, always starting to turn red and sweaty whenever he was getting close. That, and he started to run his mouth.

“God, he’s dreamy,” Steve said, leaning his head in one hand. You followed his line of sight, all three of you watching Eddie walk to the bar. “It’s almost annoying how hot he is.”

Robin snorted. “Yeah, okay. Keep dreaming.”

Maybe it shouldn’t have stung the way it did. Anyone was allowed to find him hot. It didn’t mean anything. Just a bit of flattery, that’s all. But then it was like you couldn’t stop yourself and suddenly you were unable to keep yourself from asking the one thing you never ever should have.

“Do you have a crush on Eddie?”

You watched Steve laugh pitifully. “I mean, maybe?”

“Maybe? What does ‘maybe’ mean, Steve?” Robin asked.

“I mean, he’s hot, right? But I don’t know if he’d even go for me.” As he talked, he popped open another button of his shirt, showing off a bit of his wife beater and chest hair. “Like, okay, he’s just so pretty and he fixes cars and plays in a band? It’s cool as hell. But I don’t think we even have that much in common, so I don’t know. He likes metal, I like pop. He likes D&D and I like, uh, I don’t know? Poker? Anyways, I don’t even know what kind of guys he’s into. Do you know, Rob?”

Robin shrugged, meeting your eyes before saying, “I don’t know, Steve. Ever thought about asking him what his type is?”

And you shouldn’t have asked. Really, you shouldn’t. Because now you were here, sitting at a table while Steve moaned and groaned about his chances with Eddie, like it was some statistics problem. And then someone was doing an awful cover of “Time After Time” by Cyndi Lauper, the shrill sound mixing with Steve’s whining. And you? You were sulking. 

You looked over and watched Eddie wait for your drinks at the bar, wondering if Steve had any chance and whether you were more likely to get the guy in the end. Surely there was a silver lining in there somewhere. You enjoyed metal music and even convinced Eddie to listen to other genres. You enjoyed listening to Eddie talk about Dungeons and Dragons and showed him board games you liked, like Catan. Relationships weren’t built off of just similarities and differences. Steve was wrong.

Right?

As if Eddie heard your thoughts, he caught your stare, his lips pulling back into a large grin as he waved and moved his hips a little bit along to the grating karaoke. You couldn’t help but laugh at how awkward he looked, in turn doing the worst arm wave in history. He immediately started laughing.

Eddie was looking at you, wasn’t he? Steve wasn’t even bothering to look at the object of his desire. He merely talked about the guy, putting his head in his hands and panicking as if Eddie wasn’t in the same room. But you were looking at Eddie and now you were in a makeshift dance battle, embarrassing yourself by doing an awful robot while he did that shopping cart move.

Could Steve have this kind of relationship with Eddie?

And what were the odds of you winning?

What were the odds of you losing?

After a good bit of chatter, Steve and Robin headed towards the other end of the bar to set up a game of darts. Eddie went along, but you decided to stay behind. He found it odd, asking if you were sure and you’d nodded, telling him that you wanted a moment to yourself. 

But Eddie didn’t believe you. Not one bit. You’d started acting weird merely seconds after he came back with drinks. It was strange. One moment you were dancing with him across the room and the next your shoulders were slumped, falling out of any and all conversation. Even when he nudged you and tried to be playful, you seemed to pretend you didn’t notice. Instead, you focused on your straw and nodding along as if you were paying attention. 

He knew you hadn’t. He knew there was something wrong and, of course, he wanted to respect your privacy but there had to be something else there. Had Robin let anything slip? Did Steve act like an asshole? Were you upset with him? 

Robin and Steve were in the heat of a tie when Eddie finally decided to walk back over to you. He didn’t like seeing you so sad, so vulnerable. And with the addition of the high, he knew how scary that could feel. If something didn’t feel right, it could get extremely uncomfortable. And you couldn’t just be alone in that hole.

“Hey,” he said as he approached you. “Are you feeling okay?”

You put on one of the fakest smiles he’d ever seen before replying, “Yeah, I guess I’m just tired from work.”

Lie.

“Is the high getting you down?”

You shrugged. “A bit, yeah.”

“Um,” he said, gulping as he held out his palm. “Do you need to hold my hand?”

You looked down at his hand before looking back up. 

“No, I think I’ll be okay. Thank you, though.”

“Yeah, sure. Sure,” he replied, placing his hand on top of the other. 

He squeezed it to elicit something resembling comfort for the rejection he felt. It was like your hand was some kind of phantom feeling that made his chest ache with want. And that want was slowly but surely starting to burn.

“Well, uh.” He gulped. “I’m gonna get myself another beer. Want anything?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m okay.”

Eddie nodded before turning away.

“Hey, Eddie?”

He didn’t think he’d ever spun back around that quickly before.

“Yeah?”

You smiled weakly. “If you need me to drive your van back tonight, let me know. I don’t mind if you want to get a little drunk with Steve and Robin.”

And just like that, he died a little inside. Again.

“Will do, Weirdo.”

Steve was back on his bullshit.

“Oh my god, do you guys think I should try to sing with him? Get the sparks flying, you know?” He moved his head from side to side. “‘Do a little dance? Make a little love’?”

Robin smacked Steve’s arm. “You did not just do that.”

You let out a tiny sigh, looking away from his hopeful expression. Steve genuinely thought he’d cracked the code to Eddie’s heart. And you couldn’t blame him. Who wouldn’t want someone like Eddie? 

But really, you wanted to put your head on the table and bang it over and over.

Over. And. Over.

Eddie had gone to get a third beer and Steve had wasted no time before bringing this shit back up. You were seriously starting to dislike him for the first time in three years. Three. Years. He was obnoxious when he was drunk, sure, but it was never like this.

Or maybe you just hadn’t paid attention until tonight.

You shook your head, desperately trying to get the feelings out of your body. The blunt was starting to get the best of you, fogging your brain while your limbs felt like they were vibrating. This was killing your high. No, it was more than that. It was magnifying all the feelings you once swore to be dormant. 

You looked over to find Robin staring at you, her eyebrow quirked up. Noticeably, you might add. You and Robin weren’t that close—you were one of Eddie’s best friends to the rest of them. You had fun whenever the group would hang out, whether that be at Eddie’s shows or unwinding at Go Ask Mary, but you never truly hung out alone. 

Steve, Robin, and Eddie had moved to Atlanta three years ago, after they wanted out of their small town in Indiana. Steve’s dad had gotten him a job at a big boy law firm in the heart of Downtown. It wasn’t the best way to get into the business, but it was the best way to get all of them out. To start over somewhere bigger, somewhere with more opportunities. Steve convinced them to save up for the summer before driving eight hours to their shitty new apartment. He swung Robin a waitressing gig at a nice restaurant he had a business lunch at—charmed the owner and everything. Eddie had worked at a local gay bar in Decatur and played there sometimes on metal or punk themed nights.

And here Robin was now, staring at you like she was trying to figure out how you were feeling, as if you’d ever be phased by Steve’s confession. Confessions. And she was making eye contact, all bold and unashamed. Like she was some freakishly keen hawk, two steps away from letting out a ca-caw. And if Steve paid just a fraction, just a millimeter of attention, he’d notice. 

It was all quite unnerving.

“Don’t you think sparks would already be flying after years of knowing each other?” Robin asked, eyes flickering from Steve’s to yours and then back again. “I mean, I think you would know by now. If there was something between you.” She gestured over to you. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

What was her deal?

“Pfffft.” 

A bit of Steve’s spit flew out and hit your cheek. You would’ve laughed three hours ago. Now? Now, you were seriously considering bashing his head against the table.

(It was a big night for head bashing.)

“Last call for karaoke!” one of the bartenders announced.

“Wish me luck!” Steve said to you and Robin before raising his hand. “I’ll do it!” he exclaimed loudly, pointing to Eddie who had just finished closing out his tab. “I’ll do it with that handsome man over there!”

Eddie looked surprised but shrugged, a pleasant smile reaching his lips. “Yeah, sure, Harrington. Show me what you got.”

As they moved towards the stage, you swallowed the words resting on your tongue.

I wanted to sing with Eddie tonight.

“I hope he doesn’t embarrass himself.”

You couldn’t look at Robin. You just couldn’t.

“What song did he pick?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“‘Under Pressure’.”

Oh, fuck. You’d sung that in the car with Eddie plenty of times, always with a silent acknowledgement that whatever conversation you were having would cease and the volume was to be turned all the way up. You went for Freddie Mercury's part while Eddie took the lower octaves in David Bowie’s verses. Eddie sounded amazing when he sang it, confident with his range and feeding emotion into the song. And you melted. You just melted.

And when the song started and Eddie’s eyes drifted away from Steve and landed on you, well, you couldn’t help but feel seen. He thought about those times, too, didn't he? It was something you both held special. Right?

But Steve took Eddie’s hand and started trying to dance with him. Eddie laughed, trying to follow his complicated rhythm. Steve was stumbling and nearly fell of the stage, but Eddie caught him, stabilizing him. Just like he’d done with you in the parking lot.

Things were going downhill for you. And they were going down fast.

Eddie cleared his throat dramatically before starting the first verse. “Pressure, pushing down on me, pressing down on you. No man ask for.”

You let out a sigh at the sound of Eddie’s voice, all gravely and husky and soft all the same. It felt even better tonight with whatever was in this joint. You could feel it inside, like it was somehow spreading through you. There was a part of you that was sure you’d never get over it for as long as you lived.

Steve pulled Eddie closer, grabbing at his waist and slowly moving it down.

Oh my fucking god. Eddie knows what he’s doing, right? you asked yourself. Can he tell? Does he like this?

Eddie cleared his throat before belting, “It’s the terror of knowing what this world is about. Watching some good friends screaming—”

“Let me out!” Steve shouted.

They stumbled through a laugh at the ridiculousness, and you began to feel like you were slowly dying. Again.

“I’m…going to go to the bathroom,” Robin announced before scurrying off.

And you tried to keep your eyes off of them. Really, you did. You made yourself look around the room, scanning the face of a drag queen who was currently walking around and engaging in animated conversations with the few other people here. Her eyes were coated in pink glitter and tall eyelashes; nude lips perfectly lined and wrapped around the straw of a cocktail. She was absolutely gorgeous, as most Atlanta queens were. Plus, how could you ever look away from a drag queen? They were angels, truly. Archangels.

But it was Eddie’s singing that brought your attention back, as effortless as Bowie himself. Like there was nothing to it. Like he was always on the track to begin with.

You found yourself thinking about the night you met Eddie, right here in Go Ask Mary. It was the five-month anniversary of their official move to Atlanta, the three of them wanting to go out and celebrate not completely fucking up. They’d gotten out and they were doing pretty okay for themselves by the look of it.

And you? Well, you were a native to the south. Grew up in Tennessee, moved here when you saw the opportunity for college somewhere that wasn’t Tennessee. Found your way through college and realizing you were bisexual and, well, found Go Ask Mary. At the time, you came here with friends, but there was a period time after losing some of those friends where you preferred coming by yourself. It was an accepting atmosphere, one where everyone seemed friendly. You could have a six-minute conversation with a queer stranger and never speak again. But it would be fond and unforgettable. It would be transcendent. 

You’d gone up and done a dramatic cover of “I Miss You” by Blink 182, mimicking the singer’s voice rather than being serious about it. A few people laughed—and Eddie was one of them. He’d even let out a few whoo!s and yeah!s. When you’d gotten off the stage, he approached you immediately and asked you if you could be best friends. You laughed at that, thinking then that neither of you were serious. 

But then you’d spent the whole night talking and watching Robin and Steve perform.

And then they tapped out and decided to head home.

However, Eddie wanted to stay. 

And you told him you could call him an Uber. 

And then you stayed until closing, just talking. Nonstop. Like you were seeing an old friend for the first time in decades.

(Is there a joke in there somewhere about three disaster bisexuals and one tragic lesbian walking into a bar?)

“Is that your man?”

You looked behind you, noticing the queen from earlier standing with her hand on her hip as she tapped her acrylic nails along to the beat.

“Which one?” you asked.

“The crazy haired one over there with the wallet chain.”

You could feel your chest start to ache. “No, no. We’re best friends, but we’re not dating.” She let out a hum. You looked at her again, feeling hot all of a sudden. “Um, why? Why do you ask?”

A smirk formed on her lips as she touched your shoulder, leaning down to speak softly into your ear. “Baby, that man’s only looking at you.”

“He is?”

“Mhm.”

“Are you sure?”

The queen looked at you again, her eyebrow raising. “Oh, so you’re jealous of the other one?” She laughed as you gave a defeated shrug. “You ain’t been lookin’ hard, have you?”

“I’m not sure—"

“Honey,” she started, tapping your jaw. You looked back at her. “I know that look. But you ain’t gotta look hard to see what he feels for you.”

“Really?”

She patted the top of your head and stood up straight. “Girl, look harder. Oh, and don’t forget to invite me to the wedding.”

And then she was waving you a goodbye and walking away.

You looked back to the stage to watch Eddie. You didn’t know how to believe her. Couldn’t. He was right there, leaning in and sharing a microphone with Steve, their faces practically touching. Lopsided grins coming from the two as Eddie hit a high note perfectly and Steve butchered the harmony. Eddie’s voice was dark and angelic. Steve’s eyes were red and perhaps they were sparkling in the purple and blue neon lights. They were having fun. 

They’d be a cute couple, a voice in your head said bitterly. And you can sit and watch and be okay with it. Swallow all your emotions like you always do. Let yourself fade into background noise as you watch someone take the spot you want the most. It’s normal at this point, isn’t it? You’re going to be that pathetic and weak, aren’t you?

You looked down at your drink, riddled with those incessant voices in your head telling you that you weren’t good enough. Because you weren’t as forward as Steve, or as brave as Eddie. You couldn’t just say the words or say anything at all. Eddie said everything he thought and made it clear how he felt. It was so simple for him. 

Besides…where would the friendship go if Eddie rejected you? Would it remain firm, the foundation solidified enough to keep you where you were before? Or would it start moving away, returning less and less frequently before the inevitable crash? 

And how could you ever fathom surviving the implosion?

Eddie began to belt the final chorus, leaving Steve in the dust while secretly trying to get your attention. Maybe he was trying to impress you with his strengthened vocals and (pathetically) wanted you to notice.

But you continued to look down at your drink, scowling and swirling your straw around. He wanted to know what the hell was going on, why you were acting so strange tonight. It’d started out so well when he picked you up, letting the music be the only thing moving you forward. Even in the parking lot, with the jokes and a longing look that felt like it lasted for hours. And now you were…well. Whatever you were. 

And the song ended, alongside the minimal applause and stage lights being turned off. 

Steve patted Eddie’s shoulder as they got off. Eddie nodded at him before turning towards your table. 

But Steve pulled at his forearm. 

“Munson, wait.”

Eddie looked back. “Yeah, dude. What’s up?”

Steve smiled and Eddie could tell that he was utterly drunk. It was one of Steve’s goofy smiles, always seeming cartoonish with the way his lips curved into a wave. Eddie always thought it was kinda weird how he did that. Even a little creepy.

“Listen, I’m just gonna come out and ask you a question.”

“Okay…” Eddie trailed, now facing Steve completely. 

“Would you ever want to go on a date?”

Eddie’s eyes widened, scanning Steve’s face to try and see if any of this was a joke. 

But there was no punchline. He was serious.

“Like, together?” he asked slowly.

Steve laughed, having to lean on a nearby table to stable himself. “Yeah! I don’t know, I just kinda thought we had some chemistry or something. I’m drunk so I can’t articulate it very well, but I’ve wanted to ask for a while.”

Eddie raised a hand to scratch along his stubble and thought about it. Had he really not noticed that Steve was into him? He thought he’d made it clear to Robin his affections for you. He’d just assumed she would tell Steve but, clearly, she hadn’t. 

It was all Eddie ever talked about when him and Robin were alone, holed up in Eddie’s bedroom with a couple of beers and When Harry Met Sally playing on his TV. She told him over and over how he should just say something to you or even drop hints here and there. And to be fair, he thought he had. Even tonight with the joint in your mouth and the comment about it not being as pretty as you. And you’d just waved it off. Acted like it was nothing. Moved on so quickly and so suddenly.

But. 

Well. 

Was there such harm in saying yes to Steve? You certainly hadn’t said anything and maybe it would be good for him to explore something with someone who he knew for sure wanted him. It could be simple with him. Steve was fun to be around. He could be happy with him if it went anywhere. Because it could go somewhere…

Right?

He stared at Steve for some time before he responded.

You tried to leave with Robin and Steve, but Eddie pulled you towards his van instead. That meant two blocks of walking together and he didn’t waste any time before he started talking.

“Where are you going, Weirdo?” he asked, throwing an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into a side-hug. “You know you live closer to me.”

He was right. After Eddie had snagged his current job as a mechanic at a nice dealership, he’d gotten his own place so that he could have a space for himself. He really liked his alone time as much as he liked being around you or any of his other friends. One of the main reasons was because he needed complete silence when planning his campaigns and, well, Robin and Steve weren’t necessarily quiet people.

You chuckled, but it sounded forced. “Yeah, sorry. I guess I’m crossed or something,” you replied. “You’ve always had a higher tolerance than me.”

Eddie gave you a concerned look. “You okay?”

You nodded and tried to keep walking. 

But he didn’t.

“You’re not holding my hand right now.”

His voice was soft, hardly above a whisper.

“Oh, I guess I just wasn’t thinking about it tonight.”

Or you’re not actually cross-faded, Eddie thought to himself. But he didn’t say anything, just bumped your shoulder with his and tried to bring the energy back. You hadn’t smiled since you’d all left and there was no way you’d leave tonight without one. So, he turned around and started walking backwards, shimmying his shoulders. He cracked the code, watching as you began to snort. Thank God.

“So, did you like my killer vocals?” he asked, his playful tone raising the energy back to its rightful place. 

Until your smile faltered.

“Ohhhhhh, yeah,” you said, hardly sounding sarcastic or playful. And it certainly didn’t meet your eyes. “You and Steve looked like you were having fun.”

Eddie hesitated, wanting to tell you about Steve’s…proposition. Should he casually drop it into the conversation? Would tonight be the night that he admitted how he felt? Or would he continue to rely on you doing it?

“He asked me out,” Eddie said before he could think further, heart racing.

“What?”

“Yeah, right after we got offstage. Crazy, right?” 

“What did you say?” you asked, stopping in your tracks. You were only across the street from his van now. Only twenty steps. 

But you’d stopped. 

So, Eddie did too.

“I told him I’d think about it,” he replied.

“And have you? Thought about it?”

He tried to read your expression, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

So, he pushed. 

“I don’t know. Hadn’t thought of it before he said anything. I mean, it’s kinda out of nowhere…”

“Do you like him?” you whispered. 

Eddie thought about lying, to try and elicit some form of jealousy from you so he could start the conversation. Gamble and see what happens. But he couldn’t lie to you like that. It wouldn’t be right. It’d just be shitty. 

“Not really. Like, Steve’s pretty and all and he’s a really good friend or whatever. But I just haven’t really thought much about it and then suddenly there he was, poof, asking me out. And, I don’t know, I just thought it was a bit weird.”

You nodded along, looking away. “Yeah, that’s weird.”

Eddie couldn’t help himself. “Do you think I should say yes?”

“You’re asking me?” you asked, your eyebrows pinching together. 

You looked…upset. Why did you look so upset at the question?

“Absolutely,” he said, nodding.

“Why do you want my opinion? I mean, you’ve known him longer.”

Eddie shrugged. “Well, I don’t know. I value your opinion or whatever.”

You scoffed. “I don’t think I should be the determining factor on who you should date.”

You have no fucking clue.

“And if I wanted you to be?” 

The words left his lips before he could save himself and, God, his heart was banging on his flesh, like it was trying to escape. Like it wasn’t able to handle it any more in his wired brain.

You hesitated again. 

“Well, I don’t know.” Before Eddie could ask again, you sighed. “Do what you want, Eddie. Just…be careful.”

He shut his mouth again and nodded. 

“Yeah, alright. Sure.”

Eddie spent that night analyzing your hesitation. Maybe it was a sign. Maybe you were thinking about how stupid he was or, even worse, maybe you were just too scared to say anything. Like him. 

Your lips had quivered slightly. You were holding back those words again, the ones that felt like they’d already been shared and were waved off by the time you spoke again. And it drove him absolutely crazy.

And instead of asking you, he texted Steve.

About that date… When and where?

[laughingsquid]

The Ingenious Engineering Behind the Iconic BIC Cristal Ballpoint Pen

[steelbluehome]

The Hill

Why is the internet calling Kamala Harris ‘brat’?

Sarakshi Rai

Tue, July 23, 2024 at 5:06 PM EDT

Vice President Kamala Harris is brat.

At least that’s what supporters of Harris have taken to calling her with social media awash with lime green highlighted memes of the vice president dancing and clips of her various speeches.

The meme-forward strategy took off after British singer Charli XCX appeared to throw her support behind Harris for a potential White House run. A video cut of Harris laughing and set to a Charli XCX song from the album “Brat” quickly went viral. The singer soon followed with her own take.

“Kamala IS brat,” the 31-year-old singer wrote Sunday on the social platform X, shortly after President Biden announced he was exiting the 2024 race and endorsing Harris.

Soon after, the official X account for Biden’s campaign rebranded itself with a profile header change to a Brat-lime green image that reads “kamala hq.”

But what is ‘brat’?

Charli XCX’s 2024 summer album release titled “Brat” is a nightclub favorite and features a collection of songs that are all about the female gaze and how younger generations of women aspire to live.

This is how the singer explained it in a TikTok video:

“That girl who is a little messy and likes to party, and maybe says dumb things sometimes, who feels herself but then also maybe has a breakdown but parties through it. It’s very honest; it’s very blunt — a little bit volatile, does dumb things, but, like, it’s brat. You’re brat. That’s brat.”

Many have taken “brat” to be the opposite of the “perfect” girl image that women are faced with on social media.

The “brat” color has also been co-opted by the Harris campaign. The very specific shade of chartreuse or lime green, has been shared across the social media channels of the campaign.

However, according to Charli, anyone can be a brat.

“It can go that way, like, quite luxury, but it can also be so, like, trashy. Just, like, a pack of cigs, and, like, a Bic lighter, and, like, a strappy white top. With no bra. That’s, like, kind of all you need,” she said.

Despite the cigarette-smoking, party-girl definiton, Harris’s campaign has leaned heavily into this theme shortly after she emerged as the likely Democratic nominee. Along with the coconut emoji, it has quickly become an informal symbol of support for her presidential campaign.

Voters of Tomorrow, a Gen Z led organization told The Hill that “brat (noun)” is “An icon; an embrace of authenticity and confidence in oneself.”

The banner on her official campaign account on X also has “Kamala” emblazoned in the same typeface used on the Charli XCX album.

While she was campaigning for the presidency in 2020, Harris was frequently featured in viral trends and internet memes.

When she was in the running for the Democratic presidential nomination in 2020, her supporters were known online as the K-Hive. The bee emoji was featured heavily in their then-Twitter feeds and they would “swarm” to defend the then-California senator online.

All Kamala is Brat and lime green Kamala merch from various sellers on Etsy

[tamapalace]

November 2023 Tama Sticker Store Campaign

To commemorate the release of the new Tamagotchi Uni in blue, a campaign has started where you can get Tama Stickers with different designs and exclusive items from each store, how exciting is that?

Amazon. You can purchase a Tamagotchi Uni with a Tama Sticker starting on Friday, November 3rd, 2023 to get your hands on a Smile Box Tama Sticker. The Tama Sticker features a limited 16-digit download code that will allow you download a Smile Box accessory! The Tama Sticker campaign will end as soon as supplies run out.

Edion Group. Starting on Friday, November 3rd, 2023 through Friday November 17th, 2023, or as soon as supplies run out you can get a Takoyaki Tama Sticker! Featuring a limited use 16-digit download code for the Takoyaki Hat accessory! Available in select stores, for more details please contact a participating store. One Tama Sticker pre product purchase.

Joshin. Starting on Friday, November 3rd, 2023 until supplies last, you can get a Tiger Hat Tama Sticker with a purchase until supplies last. Featuring a limited use 16-digit download code for the Tiger Hat accessory! Available in select stores, please contact a participating store for more information.

Toys”R”Us! Starting on Thursday, November 23rd, 2023 until supplies last, you can get your hands on the iconic Geoffrey Hat Tama Sticker that you’ve seen before back in the Tamagotchi Meets/On days. The Geoffrey Hat Tama Sticker features a limited 16-digit download code for Geoffrey’s Hat. Available on a first-come-first-serve basis for a total of 10,000 people, one Tama Sticker per purchase.

Don. Quijote & MEGA Don. Quixote. Visit a participating location from Friday, November 3rd, 2023 through Friday, November 17th, 2023 or until supplies last to get your hands on a Donpen Stuffed Toy Tama Sticker. Donpen is the mascot for Don. Quijote! The Donpen Stuffed Toy Tama Sticker features a limited 16-digit download code for the Donpen Stuffed Toy accessory. One Tama Sticker per purchase.

Bic Camera Group. Visit a participating Bic Camera Group (Bic Camera, Kojima, Sofmap) location from Friday, November 3rd, 2023 until supplies run out to get your hands on the Eco-Usatchi Triplets Tama Sticker. The Eco-Usatchi Triplets Tama Sticker features a limited 16-digit download code for the Eco Usatchi Triplets accessory.

Yamada Corporation. Visit a participating Yamada Corporation location starting on Friday, November 3rd, 2023 until supplies last to get your hands on the Yamada Bouquet. The Yamada Bouquet Tama Sticker features a limited 16-digit download code for the Yamada Bouquet accessory! One Tama Sticker per purchase.

Yodobashi Camera. Visit a participating Yodobashi Camera location starting on Friday, November 3rd, 2023 until supplies last to get your hands on the Yodobashi Camera Tama Sticker. The Yodobashi Camera Tama Sticker features a 16-digit download code for the Yodobashi Camera accessory. One Tama Sticker per purchase!

Which Tama Sticker do you have your eyes on? You bet we’ll be checking Tama Fashion everyday, so please be a friend and post these fashions for all to enjoy!

[ambrose123four]

iconic bic pen

[icravemusicx0x0]

rating music pls dont hate me #33 | BRAT - CHARLI XCX

CHARLI has always been an icon of the pop industry, the internet culture, and the gays. she's responsible for the making of HUGE HITS like I LOVE IT by ICONA POP, FANCY by IGGY AZALEA. she helped REVOLUTIONIZE a new LANDSCAPE for POP MUSIC, taking inspiration from BUBBLEGUM BASS and the PC MUSIC record label and making POP 2. as you can see, she is a BIG DEAL.

with the help of her long-time executive producer A.G COOK, CHARLI returns to the HYPERPOP concept i know and love in her newest album, BRAT. however, BRAT add a simple twist in this form of production—it's a 41-minute long CLUB RECORD. a GREEN PANTONE-coded back drop with with the text 'BRAT' in lowercase printed in the center that is slightly compressed is presented in the cover of the album. "i think the constant demand for access to women’s bodies and faces in our album artwork is MYSOGINISTIC and BORING [sic]," CHARLI tweeted out in response to people's criticism of the artwork's MINIMALISM. she's "not doing things to be NICE." CHARLI's confrontational actions is an introduction of what to expect.

now what is BRAT? BRAT is how CHARLI refer to a person who is "a bit MESSY who loves to PARTY and says DUMB THINGS," CHARLI explains. "she's HONEST, BLUNT, AND A LITTLE BIT VOLATILE. that's BRAT."CHARLI's BRAT SUMMER is a SUMMER holiday where you can do whatever you want and be, and you can assume what a BRAT SUMMER is whatever you like. "[BRAT SUMMER] can be LUXURY but it can also be TRASHY. just like a pack of CIGS and a BIC lighter and a strappy white TANK with NO BRA," the POPSTAR joked in a radio interview with NICK GRIMSHAW. "that's kind of all you need." it's like MEGAN THEE STALLION's HOT GIRL SUMMER, but you're a RAVE GIRL.

what i love about CHARLI's BRAT is how HONEST and RELATABLE she is in the ALBUM and how CONFRONTING she approach to it. CHARLI did confirm that there is no other DISS TRACK in the album but VON DUTCH, but the lyricism is BRUTATLLY HONEST and DIRECT, yet it feels PERSONAL and INFORMAL—CHARLI described it as "the way i would say it to a FRIEND in a TEXT MESSAGE". this way of CHATTING her feelings on the album helps me connect more into all the things she's talking about.

the production is top-tier, too. A.G COOK cooks just as hard as POP 2, now with a more UPBEAT and RAVY tune. CHARLI took part in CO-PRODUCING the track APPLE, she did AWESOME looking at the overall quality of the song (and her BOILER ROOM stage which you should check out). with the PERFECTLY-CRAFTED lyrics over a layer of AUTO-TUNE in some places, she cooked up a AOTY contender, no doubt the AOTY winner.

well, in conclusion, BRAT is now my top 1 album of the year, and my most favorite CHARLI album, succesding POP 2.

underrated gem(s): EVERYTHING IS ROMANTIC - crazy how unpopular this song is like HUHHHH, I MIGHT SAY SOMETHING STUPID - my top 1 sad song of all time in tie with CARAMELDASSEN BUT IT'S PLAYING IN A DIFFERENT ROOM (1 HOUR LOOP), SO I - RIP SOPHIA the best memorial song for the best artist in the HYPERPOP game,

tracks that i rec listening: all

worst track: I THINK ABOUT IT ALL THE TIME - it's a very meaningful song but it kind of run dry BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN ITS TERRIBLE THO.

overall score 9.9/10 - this is all opinion so pls no hate

[notyuta]

i think castle j and bic are iconic let's go castle jenkins and razor boy

forever at the top of the stage names chain unbeaten unbeatable let's go big mansion james and razor lighter pens boy

[qnewsau]

Dictionary names Charli XCX’s ‘brat’ as word of the year

New Post has been published on https://qnews.com.au/dictionary-names-charli-xcxs-brat-as-word-of-the-year/

Dictionary names Charli XCX’s ‘brat’ as word of the year

She’s everywhere, she’s so Julia! Brat, the title of pop icon Charli XCX’s sixth album, has been named Collins Dictionary’s word of the year for 2024.

Charli’s album was released in June and took over the entire world, kicking off “Brat Summer” in the northern hemisphere.

The inescapable marketing campaign based on the album’s simple green cover art (above) was even adopted by Kamala Harris’ US presidential campaign.

Collins Dictionary says that brat is their word of the year, because of course!

“Inspired by the Charli XCX album, ‘brat’ has become one of the most talked about words of 2024,” Collins said in a statement.

“More than a hugely successful album, ‘brat’ is a cultural phenomenon that has resonated with people globally.

“‘Brat summer’ established itself as an aesthetic and a way of life.”

Previously defined as someone who is unruly, spoiled or annoying, Collins said the meaning of “brat” now has a new, more favourable definition, “characterised by a confident, independent and hedonistic attitude.”

Charli XCX on the meaning of brat

Asked to describe what “brat” means to her, Charli XCX previously said it’s someone with “a pack of cigs, a Bic lighter and a strappy white top with no bra.”

She said a “Brat” is “that girl who is a little messy and likes to party and maybe says some dumb things sometimes.” Plus, those who have “a breakdown, but kind of like party through it,” Charli said.

“It’s about having a no-f**ks-given exterior, and a secret, actually-I-do-give-a-f**k interior,” she said.

Back in July, Charli XCX gave her blessing to US VP Kamala Harris using the Brat aesthetic for her campaign. Charli declared on social media that “Kamala is Brat”.

Last month, the singer shared the minimalist cover art was to save money because she wasn’t convinced that many people were going to like the album.

Charli touring Australia next year

Charli XCX later released a completely remixed version of Brat, titled Brat and it’s completely different but also still brat.

The UK pop star recently wrapped up her joint Sweat tour with Aussie Troye Sivan over in the US.

Troye is coming to Australia solo this month. Then Aussies will get our very own brat summer when Charli XCX headlines Laneway festival in February.

Laneway begins at the Brisbane Showgrounds on February 8, before heading around the country.

For the latest LGBTIQA+ Sister Girl and Brother Boy news, entertainment, community stories in Australia, visit qnews.com.au. Check out our latest magazines or find us on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and YouTube.

[mymindisnotcommercial]

🔥

[bicsingapore]

The Evolution of Lighters: Why Electronic Lighters Are the Future with BIC

In the world of lighting, few brands are as iconic and trusted as BIC. Known for their reliable, affordable, and classic disposable lighters, BIC has become a household name. However, as technology evolves, so does the demand for innovation, and one of the most notable advancements in recent years is the rise of electronic lighters. These sleek, modern devices are quickly gaining popularity, and BIC is at the forefront of this shift, merging its decades of expertise with cutting-edge technology.

What are Electronic Lighters?

An electronic lighter is a rechargeable, flameless device that generates heat through electricity rather than using traditional fuel like butane. These lighters typically utilize either a plasma arc or heating coil to ignite objects. Plasma arc lighters create a high-intensity electrical arc between two electrodes, while coil lighters work by heating a small wire to a high temperature.

Unlike traditional lighters, which can be affected by wind or rain, electronic lighters are designed to withstand environmental challenges. The lack of a visible flame makes them ideal for outdoor enthusiasts, as they can reliably ignite even in windy or wet conditions.

Why Switch to Electronic Lighters?

Environmental Impact: One of the most significant advantages of electronic lighters is their eco-friendliness. Traditional disposable lighters contribute to environmental waste, with billions ending up in landfills every year. Since electronic lighters are rechargeable, they offer a sustainable alternative, reducing the need for disposable products.

Cost-Efficiency: While the initial investment in an electronic lighter may be higher than purchasing a disposable one, over time, it pays for itself. Because it’s rechargeable, you won’t need to constantly buy replacements. A single charge can last for several uses, making it both convenient and cost-effective.

Safety: Without an open flame, electronic lighters are generally safer to use. There’s no risk of accidentally burning yourself with a high flame or starting a fire when you don’t intend to. Some electronic lighters even come with safety features that prevent accidental activation, giving users peace of mind.

Weather-Resistant: As mentioned earlier, electronic lighters are virtually windproof, making them ideal for outdoor use. Whether you’re camping, hiking, or simply trying to light a candle in a breeze, these lighters perform far better than their traditional counterparts.

BIC’s Commitment to Innovation

BIC is renowned for its durability, reliability, and affordability. As the world moves towards more sustainable solutions, BIC is poised to offer electronic lighters that uphold its reputation for quality while embracing the future of ignition technology. BIC’s entry into the electronic lighter market represents not just an expansion of its product line but also a commitment to addressing modern consumer needs.

Incorporating rechargeable electronic lighters into their lineup demonstrates BIC's commitment to sustainability without compromising on reliability. With BIC’s well-established presence in the lighter market, consumers can expect these electronic models to be just as reliable and durable as the classic disposable lighters they've trusted for years.

The Future is Bright with BIC Electronic Lighters

The future of lighters is clearly moving towards electronics, with their combination of convenience, environmental responsibility, and safety. As more people become conscious of the environmental impact of their choices, the demand for sustainable, high-quality products is growing—and BIC is ready to meet that demand.

By choosing an electronic lighter from BIC, consumers can enjoy a product that is not only practical but also aligned with the growing shift towards sustainability. Whether you’re lighting a candle at home or starting a campfire on your next outdoor adventure, a BIC electronic lighter ensures that you’re making a choice that is better for both you and the planet.

As technology advances and the demand for eco-friendly products increases, BIC continues to adapt and innovate, ensuring that it remains a leader in the lighter industry. With their introduction of electronic lighters, BIC is once again lighting the way forward.

[bowtiedauthor]

The Candle

a short story

“Well, no use holding onto this any longer,” Andrew Gutierrez thought as he held the Hail Mary icon candle in his weathered hands. It had been a gift from his daughter Rosa, for his 37th birthday. That had been years ago, back when she still believed in saving him.

He glanced at the balloon the nursing home staff had sent — a bright, helium-filled “Happy Birthday!” that bobbed lazily against the ceiling of his small cottage. There was an AI-generated card, too, a cartoon character with too-wide eyes and a joke about getting older that felt empty. His kids hadn’t visited. He didn’t expect them to.

At least they had placed him in this private assisted living cottage village here in Florida, where he didn’t have to share his air with anyone.

He stepped outside into the evening, moving toward the gazebo out back in the vacant communal outdoor recreational area. The residents were in bed, sleeping their cares away, warm and cozy. The night air was cool, a welcome contrast to the stuffy air inside. Andrew pulled a Bic lighter from his pocket, flicking the wheel. The spark took him back to nights when he’d light candles on the family’s home altar — back when there had been a home, back when there had been a family.

The candlewick caught, its orange flame casting a soft, flickering light. He sat in his plastic chair, watching the flame. It wavered, dancing to a rhythm only it knew. Andrew watched, but his mind drifted to darker places, to memories that clung to him like a thick fog, hard to shake off.

Andrew’s gaze settled on the flickering flame, but his mind drifted back to a different fire — a time when the heat wasn’t comforting but searing. He was a boy again, in a cramped apartment where the walls were thin, and the air was thick with the smell of cheap Mezcal and simmering rage. His father loomed large, a shadow cast over his childhood, all harsh words and heavy hands. The old man believed in discipline the way some men believed in God — absolute and without question.

“Men don’t cry, Andrew,” his father had spat after one of his many drunken outbursts. A fresh bruise blossomed on Andrew’s cheek, the sting a bitter reminder. “Toughen up or life’s gonna eat you alive.”

Those words had carved themselves into Andrew’s psyche, hardening him in ways that only hurt more over time. He learned to swallow his pain, to build walls instead of bridges. Emotions were a weakness, vulnerability a sin. He carried that twisted gospel into adulthood, wearing his father’s words like armor, even as it poisoned everything he touched.

When the pressures of providing for his own family mounted — the long hours, the empty bank account, the cries of hungry children, the yells of a neglected spouse — Andrew found solace in substances that made the world fade. The alcohol dulled the edges first, but it wasn’t enough. Soon, coca and heroin came to visit. He welcomed them both, as they filled the void, numbing the guilt, the failure, the gnawing fear that he was becoming the very man he despised.

His kids had needed him, once. Before they’d disappeared into a cloud of smoke, before the weight of the world and the weight of his fists had driven them into numbness. He remembered the way Mateo would flinch at sudden movements, a reflex inherited from Andrew’s own unpredictable temper. They were just kids — hungry, small, and full of need. But his addiction — and the anger that fueled it — had swallowed everything. His money, his time, his love. They’d gone without. Without food, without safety, without a father who could protect them from the world’s cruelties — or his own.

Andrew’s heart clenched as the shadows cast by the flame stretched long on the grass. His oldest, Mateo — he had taken the worst of it. When Andrew wasn’t there, it was Mateo who looked after his younger siblings, stealing food when there was nothing to eat, running with the wrong people to keep them all alive. Andrew hadn’t seen it then. He hadn’t seen much of anything.

The night Mateo died had torn through Andrew like a hurricane. The boy had only been 15, shot in the street while trying to rob someone, desperate to feed his family. By then, Andrew had been too far gone to do anything about it. Too deep into the drugs, too far from the man he used to be.

It was only after burying Mateo that Andrew tried to quit — tried to scrape himself back together for the others. His wife Ana had helped, but by then, she was already halfway out the door, disillusioned with who her man became. He had lost her too, though she’d stayed just long enough to make sure the rest of the kids had some kind of future without him.

But the pain never really left. Even when the drugs were gone, the emptiness remained, gnawing at him, filling him with a constant ache. His other children grew up distant, too busy with their own lives, lives they had built without him. They’d visit once in a while, out of obligation more than love. And he let them go, just like everything else.

Andrew took a deep breath, the cold night air seeping into his lungs. He hadn’t used in years, but that didn’t stop the memories from coming back. The pain was still there, a dull throb that sat just beneath the surface. Quitting hadn’t erased any of it; it had just dulled the edges enough to live with.

Sometimes he wondered if it would’ve been easier not to quit, to let the numbness consume him completely. He could have disappeared into it, faded out like an old photograph, blurred at the edges until there was nothing left.

He leaned forward, watching the flame flicker, imagining Mateo’s face in the glow — young, determined, lost. Andrew hadn’t protected him. He hadn’t protected any of them.

The candle sputtered, the flame flickering weakly, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch across his life. He thought of his children, scattered now, distant and unreachable. Were they even his anymore? Or had he become just another shadow in their lives, a faint, barely-there memory they might recall from time to time?

Andrew settled back into his chair, his hands resting in his lap. The night was getting colder, the chill seeping into his bones. The flame was growing weaker, too, its light fading as it burned down to nothing.

Just before the last bit of wax melted away, he thought he heard footsteps on the gravel outside his cottage. They were soft, hesitant, as if someone were approaching but unsure of what to say.

Andrew’s eyes grew heavy with the weight of reminiscence, the flame’s warmth fading from his skin. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was everything. The soft flicker of the candle gently pulled him into another world.

The humid Mexican air clung to him, thick as honey, slowing his every breath. The streets stretched endlessly, familiar but warped, like a memory seen through warped glass. The faded houses of the barrio stood indifferent, watching as Andrew ran. His feet struck the ground with desperate rhythm, each step a question, each turn a dead-end answer. He had to find them. His children.

“Mateo! Rosa!” The names flew from his throat, hollow echoes in the heat, swallowed by the stillness of the streets. His voice fell flat, like it was lost before it even left his lips.

He kept running. The sun above beat down, heavy and cruel, melting the world into shimmering waves of heat. Shadows twisted in the corners of his eyes, darting into alleyways just as he turned his head. Every corner he rounded offered more labyrinth, more streets that folded in on themselves like forgotten promises.

His chest burned. His legs screamed for rest. But stopping wasn’t an option. He pressed forward, lungs heaving, but something was wrong.

With every step, his body shrank. His arms grew thin, hands trembling as though the very strength was leaking from his bones. His clothes sagged on him like they were made for someone larger, someone who had existed before. He felt his skin stretch taut over his ribs, his stomach caving inward with the same hungry ache that once gnawed at him in those dark days of addiction. The familiar void returned, hollow and insistent, an emptiness that swallowed him from the inside out.

“Mateo!” he cried again, but the sound that emerged was weaker, as thin as the air slipping through his shrinking lungs.

The hunger deepened, becoming not just a feeling but a force, pulling at him, devouring him. His legs, once solid, wobbled beneath him like they were made of straw, brittle and ready to break. He was running on fumes, the fumes of a past that was dissolving as fast as he was.

Then, through the haze, he saw them.

At the far end of the street, his children stood — just shadows at first, then slowly, painfully, taking form. Mateo and Rosa huddled together, their small bodies outlined by the unforgiving sun. Their eyes were wide, staring, their faces blank canvases, unreadable. They didn’t move. Didn’t wave. They were waiting. Waiting like they had waited years ago, when he wasn’t there.

He tried to move faster, but his body betrayed him. His legs buckled beneath him, sending him crashing to his knees, the impact sending a jolt through his brittle bones. His hands scraped against the dirt, skeletal fingers clawing at the earth like a man trying to dig his way out of his own grave.

“Wait,” he rasped, his voice paper-thin. The words crumbled as soon as they left his mouth.

He tried to stand, but he was too light now, his body collapsing in on itself. His clothes hung like a costume on a skeleton, flapping in the breeze that wasn’t there. The hunger gnawed harder, sharper. It wasn’t just a need anymore — it was a beast, roaring inside him, swallowing him whole.

His children were right there — just a few steps away — but the street between them stretched longer, each step Andrew took pushed them further away. The harder he fought, the more distant they became, slipping away like smoke through his fingers. The air thickened, turning to molasses in his lungs. His vision swam.

“Mateo…” His voice was a whisper now, barely a breath, his lips cracking from the effort.

His hands, now pale bones draped in loose skin, reached out one last time, trembling with the weight of a man who had nothing left. But his fingers passed through empty air.

His children started to fade like an old photograph. First their faces, then their outlines, until there was nothing but the heat, the hunger, and the weight of the world pressing him flat into the earth. His bones ached with emptiness. The street curled inward, swallowing him whole, pulling him back into the ground like the roots of a dead tree.

Andrew gasped awake, his chest heaving as if he had just run the marathon of his life. His body was trembling, the cold night air biting at his skin. The candle had burned out, leaving only a tube of hardened wax and a wisp of smoke, like the last breath of a dying flame.

He stared at the darkness around him, heart still racing, stomach still hollow. The footsteps were long gone. He got up slowly and walked back into his cottage, leaving behind the candle on the table.

The sunlight filtered through the window, sharp and invasive, cutting across the room in rays of warmth, a warmth Andrew hadn’t felt in years. His body was heavy with the weight of the dream. His heart, heavier still.

He rubbed his hands over his face, feeling the dry skin, the wrinkles that ran deep like canyons formed over a lifetime of erosion. The dream was no revelation. He’d known this all along, hadn’t he? He couldn’t save Mateo. He couldn’t save himself back then, either.

The dream left him unsettled, but also peeled back layers he’d long kept buried. Andrew rubbed his temples, feeling the weight of revelations pressing down. It wasn’t just the drugs that had pushed his family away; it was the perpetual cycle of anger and regret, the manifestation of lessons learned in a broken home. He’d perpetuated the very legacy he swore he wouldn’t.

He thought of the times he’d snapped at Rosa for small mistakes, the disappointment in her eyes mirroring his own hidden shame. Or the way Mateo had started emulating that tough exterior, mistaking aggression for strength. The toxic masculinity passed down like a cursed heirloom, tainting each generation.

Andrew realized that his demons weren’t just his own — they were a dark thread woven through his family’s tapestry. Unraveling it now seemed impossible, but perhaps acknowledging it would be a step forward in the right direction.

For years, he had thought maybe — just maybe — there was some penance he could do, some act of redemption. But no matter how much compassion he’d tried to summon after he got clean, no matter how many prayers he whispered, it hadn’t been enough. His children had needed him before. Not after.

Mateo had been lost before Andrew even realized he needed saving. Rosa had learned early on that their father was no hero. Nothing could undo the damage that was done.

He pulled open the curtains, the sunlight flooding the room. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t flinch at the light. Maybe it was time to stop running after ghosts.

It had been weeks since the dream, but the memory of it lingered in Andrew’s chest like an old wound that refused to heal. Each day had passed the same as the last: slow, quiet, heavy. His world had shrunk to the walls of his cottage, the faded photographs on the table, the Hail Mary candle now burned down to nothing.

He didn’t expect visitors. Not anymore. Why would anyone spend time out of their busy lives to come and visit what was left of him?

So when the knock came at his door that afternoon, he thought for a moment it might be a mistake, or some nurse from the main building making her rounds. But the knock was too familiar, too gentle. A sound he hadn’t heard in years.

Andrew opened the door to find Rosa standing there. She was older now, of course — older than he remembered, her face lined with a different kind of weariness than his own. But those eyes, dark brown and steady, like his father’s eyes, were still the same.

“Rosa,” he breathed, unsure of what else to say.

She nodded, shifting awkwardly on the doorstep. “Papa.”

For a long moment, they just stood there, two people staring across a chasm of years. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was full — like a breath held too long, waiting to be released.

“Do you want to come in?” Andrew asked, stepping aside. He didn’t know what else to offer her. What else could he offer?

Rosa glanced past him into the cottage, then back at him. She nodded again and stepped inside. She didn’t carry anything with her — no flowers, no apology, no expectation. She was just here, and that alone was enough to send a quiet ripple through Andrew’s chest.

They sat at the small kitchen table, the one that had seen better days, the one Andrew had used for too many solitary meals. He offered her some coffee, but she shook her head. They sat in silence for a while, Rosa looking around the cottage, her eyes lingering on the photographs — old snapshots of a family that had once been whole, icon cards of the Virgin Mary and Jesús Christ, and a rosary that belonged to dear Mateo, hanging on the wall.

Andrew watched her, the guilt gnawing at the edges of his mind, like it always did. But this time, he didn’t let it consume him. He didn’t dredge up the past, didn’t run over every mistake in his head, trying to find the right words to make things better. He simply sat, hands resting on the table, listening to the soft hum of the clock ticking in the corner.

As Rosa spoke about her life, Andrew listened — not just to her words but to the spaces between the words themselves. He noticed the cautious way she mentioned her husband, the slight hesitation before she talked about her children. He wondered if she feared he would judge them, or worse, repeat old patterns.

“Rosa,” he began slowly, his voice tinged with a vulnerability he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in decades. “I know I wasn’t… the father you needed. I carried things — anger, hurt — that I should’ve protected you from. I’m sorry.”

She looked at him for a long moment, the silence stretching out. Then she reached across the table and placed her hand over his. “I know, Papa. I’ve carried some of those things too. But I’m trying to let them go.”

He nodded, a lump forming in his throat. “Me too.”

For the first time, the wall between them showed cracks — not built to keep others out, but to let healing in. It was a small step, but perhaps the beginning of a path toward breaking the cycle that had bound them both.

Her voice filled the space between them, and the weight in Andrew’s chest lightened with every word. It wasn’t much, this conversation. It wasn’t an apology, or a resolution, or some grand moment of reconciliation. But it didn’t need to be. For the first time in years, Andrew was simply present. He wasn’t a father trying to make up for his failures. He wasn’t a man drowning in regret. He was just here now, sharing this moment with his daughter.

And that was enough.

The afternoon light shifted, spilling across the floor, warm and soft. Rosa stood after a while, momentarily checking her iPhone for any important messages. Andrew rose too, slower, but without the usual heaviness that weighed on his body. They walked to the door, and she paused, looking at him.

“Take care, Papa,” she said, her voice gentle, with no need for more.

He nodded, giving her a small, quiet smile. “You too, Rosa.”

She left without ceremony, walking down the gravel path toward the community office and her car. Andrew watched her go, standing at the door, the warmth of the afternoon sun spreading across his face.

And for the first time, in a long time, he wasn’t haunted by what he couldn’t fix. He wasn’t bound by his past, nor by the empty hunger that had once driven him to save what couldn’t be saved. His daughter had come, not asking for anything, and in return, he had given the only thing he had left: himself, fully present, fully here.

He closed the door behind him and returned to the kitchen table, sitting in the chair across from where Rosa had sat. The silence filled the room again, but it wasn’t oppressive. It wasn’t empty.

It was just… serene.

And that was enough.

-9/28/24

[allaboutmarketing4you]

How This Pen Changed The World

" Have you ever wondered how a simple pen could revolutionize the world of writing? In this video, we delve into the incredible story behind the BIC Cristal, possibly the most successful product ever made. From its innovative design to the clever use of physics, discover how this iconic pen became a global phenomenon, selling over 100 billion units worldwide and significantly impacting literacy rates.

Short on time? Feel free to skip ahead in this video using the chapter links below.

00:00 The Pen That Changed the World 01:07 The History of the Pen 02:42 Capillary Action in Ballpoint Pens 05:05 Developing the BIC Cristal 06:17 BIC Cristal Pen Design 07:47 How BIC Cristal Changed the World

Written and edited by Ewan Cunningham (/ ewan_cee ) 3D Modeler: Orkun Zengin

Music used in this video:

Melting Glass - Eden Avery To Loom Is To Love - The Mini Vandals San Pedro - Sugoi Updstate - Track Tribe Sunset Trails - DJ Williams Key To Your Heart - The Mini Vandals "

Source: Primal Space

#bic #biccristal #bicpen

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