#its cathartic or something
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patchworkgargoyle Ā· 1 year ago
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i'll miss you more than anyone
Time for some Steddie yearning hours!
1.9k words, rated T for language. Angsty pining with a happy, fluffy ending. Basically unedited because I'm posing this at 1am. Forgive any wonky tenses. Now on ao3!
Title from Something About Us by Daft Punk.
šŸŒ’
It took considerable force, but Eddie managed to wedge open the only window in his tiny, shitty apartment with a grunt and a sigh. No matter how much WD-40 he forced into it, the damn thing's determined to stick and squeal. If he didn't know any better Eddie would swear it did this just to annoy him. Stubborn piece of shit. Takes one to know one, he figured.
He let out another sigh. Leaning his elbows on the kitchen counter, he flicked his zippo open and lit a smoke, relishing that first warm draw of acridness with his eyes closed. Robin would snark at him about the fact that his lease specified no smoking, but fuck the landlord. He needed this. Eddie tilted his head back and exhaled, watching the smoke curl out and away into the darkened alley between the buildings.
The day had beenā€¦ hard, to put it lightly. It was the last day of Steve's visit. He'd come to see Eddie, to explore Seattle, for a whole week. Just the two of them. It'd been so good, even if Eddie's backstabbing heart wouldn't stop hoping that the visit would end up as something more. It was stupid, a useless hope. Stubborn.
They'd meandered around Capitol Hill so Eddie could show off the first place he'd ever felt safe enough to be queer and loud about it, unable to look too long at Steve's expression of relieved pride in him. He let Eddie drag him to a few bars, introduced him to some new friends who welcomed him with open arms and pointed, knowing stares in Eddie's direction. They'd walked along the pier, doing the touristy shit, ate greasy fish and chips wrapped in newspaper and watched seals play and beg for food in the harbour.Ā 
Hell, Eddie even let Steve drag him up to the Space Needle. It was something Eddie had refused to do when he first moved, not wanting to do something so mundane and clichƩ when he was trying to become a local. But of course as soon as Steve insisted he folded like wet tissue.
Now Eddie knew he'd be cursed with the image of Steve, his hair windswept, gazing out at the city with wide-eyed wonder at the sparkling sprawl of buildings as the sunset painted him in pink and golden hues.
Eddie didn't even bother looking at the city, the ocean. They couldn't ever compare.
Not for the first time that night, Eddie hung his head and rubbed at his eye with the heel of his palm, wishing the image would stop fucking tormenting him. He was so fucking hopeless.
Raising his head again, he took another drag and stared up at the moon. Light pollution blotted out everything but the moon and Venus. It was the one thing he missed about Hawkins (that was a lie, always a lie), seeing the stars appear in the deep, dark blue above like all the gods took a needle to the fabric of the sky. Here, Eddie's only two stellar companions danced around each other every night. Sometimes closer, nearly touching it seemed, other times further away, locked in an eternal game of will-they-won't-they.
Tonight he only saw the lonely moon through the gap in the buildings. A waning crescent that shone bright enough that it lit up the darkness of Eddie's silent kitchen with a silvery glow. It was silly, but he held a tiny wish that Venus wouldn't be too far behind so at least Eddie would be the only lonely sad sack tonight. At least the thought made him chuckle at himself slightly.
Seeing Steve off at the airport that morning felt like Eddie was about to rip himself in two. If it weren't so public, if it weren't so risky, he might've confessed to Steve right then and there in some desperate attempt to get him to stay just a few days, hours, seconds longer. He'd dig his own heart out of his chest and offer it up on a silver platter; anything for the man that carried him out of hell. But Eddie was nothing if not a coward. They'd hugged each other tightly, just shy of too long, and Steve waved goodbye with a bittersweet smile and something shining in his eyes.
Eddie'd had to wait an hour in the airport parking lot before he was stable enough to drive back home.
Thing was, he was so fucking lonely out here. He'd moved to get away from the pitchfork-wielding, grudge-carrying people that never bought the government's cover story, to stop the vitriolic graffiti that had kept getting sprayed on Wayne's new trailer. The kids would get caught up in it too if they were caught hanging around The Freak. Eddie couldn't fucking go anywhere without keeping his head on a swivel, and it was so exhausting. He'd needed to leave. Even if it meant having to leave his family, the only people who knew the real story behind his scars and nightmaresā€“even if it meant leaving Steve. So, it was hard, having Steveā€“a piece of his home, maybe even his heartā€“come visit and then leave after just a handful of days. Great days, but still.Ā 
Choking out a bitter laugh, Eddie scrubbed at the tears starting to trail down his cheeks. Stupid, he was so stupid. His throat closed up around another laugh, turning it into a silent sob, a frustrated growl as he begged his stupid heart to just let it fucking go, to stop hurting, stop tantruming pathetically inside his ribcage about a man he could never have.
Just as another sob threatened to claw its way out of his chest, the phone rang. The shrill sound made him jump, nearly dropping his cigarette out the window. Swearing, he reached and pulled it over, answering.
"H'lo?" he rasped.
"Jesus, Munson, you sound rough," Steve's tinny voice replied, amused, "did I wake you up?"
The tightness in Eddie's chest burst into butterflies and he couldn't help but laugh around a sniffle. "Nah man, I was up. Shouldn't you be asleep, though? Isn't it 3am there or something?"
"Yeah, or something. Just got home though."
"Wait, what? The fuck are you calling me for, then?"
Steve chuckled. Christ, it was a great sound, filtered through endless miles of telephone lines though it was. "You told me to call when I got home safe, remember?"
"After you'd slept or something, dude, jesus christ. You didn't have to call at the ass crack of dawn."
"Well I wanted to."
Eddie mentally started stomping out the fresh butterfly swarm fluttering around in his guts. Unfortunately, he couldn't hold back the smile on his lips, wide enough that he knew Steve could hear it in his voice. So he teased, "Wow, Harrington, it's almost like you miss me or something." There was a pause.
"I do."
Sincerity weighed down Steve's words, two syllables dropping into the well of silence left in their wake. Eddie felt the ripples through his whole body, leaving stillness behind.
"Really?" Eddie whispered. He heard Steve inhale shakily and ached to be beside him again, to have him near, pull him close, feel him again.
"Yeah, Eddie. I miss you so much, itā€“ god, it hurts," Steve said with a tiny, heartbreaking laugh.
"Fuck. Iā€“ same, Steve, I've been bawling my eyes out since this morning." His words were thick with even more tears threatening to spill but he blinked them back.
"I'm sorry."
Eddie snorted, though regretted it immediately and swiped at his nose with his sleeve. "Why're you apologising?"
"Hate knowing you're hurting too."
"Can't be helped, I'm afraid," Eddie sighed, then added quietly, nervously, "not like you could stay."
Speaking just as quietly, Steve said, "Maybeā€¦ maybe I could."
"Huh?"
"I've just, I've been thinking," Steve started, gathering steam, "for a while now but also on the flights home. It sucks that you're out there by yourself. And the kids are all graduated and leaving, and Robin and Nancy are planning on moving, and-"
Eddie's unable to help it, interrupting Steve's rambling that he definitely picked up from Robin, but he can't hold it back, hope forcing the words out. "Stevie, are you sayingā€“?"
"UW accepted my application," Steve said. "I could move out there, get my teaching degree."
"Why?"Ā 
The question hung in the air, all of Eddie's breathless wishes clinging to it. Steve took a steadying breath on the other end of the line.
"I have feelings for you Eddie. Might be kind of in love with you, and I really don't think it's one-sided. Should've told you at the airport."
"How did you know?"Ā 
Chuckling, Steve said, "You're not subtle, but when I said the view from the Space Needle was beautiful, you agreed even though you never took your eyes off me."
"I wanted to tell you," Eddie said in a rush, heart in his throat, "all fucking week. I'm kind of in love with you too."
Steve laughed, full and warm, and Eddie might've collapsed with relief if he weren't leaning on the counter still. "We're idiots, huh?" Steve asked.
"Massive idiots. Complete morons. Absolute buffoons. You're telling me that we could've been kissing all week if one of us had just gotten the balls to confess?"
"Well, maybe more than just kissing." Steve's voice dropped suggestively and Eddie grinned at the bloom of desire that grew in his chest.
"A gentleman never assumes, big boy, but good to know."
A yawn echoed through the phone and the heat Eddie felt morphed into depthless fondness. "You should go sleep, Stevie."
"Probably. Gonna be wrecked for my shift tomorrow." He sighed softly. "Worth it, though."
"Worth having to pry your eyelids open while Marge berates you for letting her kid watch movies her husband rented?"
Steve snorted. "Yeah. Worth packing my bags and running off to the coast, too."
"Christ." Shaking a little, Eddie asked, "Are you sure?"
"Never been more sure of anything." He yawned again, hard enough Eddie could hear the receiver shudder in his hand. "I wanna keep talking to you but I'm dead on my feet. Can I call you tomorrow? Please?"
"You don't have to ask, sweetheart," Eddie said, pouring his fondness into every word to make up for the fact that he couldn't be there to see Steve's gorgeous, sleepy face, to fall into bed with him and wrap him in his arms. "Hell, call me when you wake up, before you go to work. You gotta tell me how your flights went anyway."
"Uhg, right. Ask me about the lady who scoffed at me reading The Hobbit."
He scoffed. "She dares to look down upon one of the great works of literature? I don't know her but she has made a mortal enemy on this day." The tired giggle Eddie heard made him smile so wide it almost hurt.
"You're so dramatic."
"You love it."
With a contented sigh, Steve said, "Yeah, I do." Another yawn, loud this time, and Steve continued, "Good night, Eddie. I'll call tomorrow. I miss you."
"Can't wait. Miss you too, Stevie."
Eddie hung up, the receiver settling in with a click. It felt like his body was made of bubbles, or fireworks. He almost couldn't believe it, that his hopes actually came true. Steve loves him, wants to move to Seattle for him. What!?
He let out a long, loud whoop that echoed in the alleyway. A distant neighbour yelled at him to shut the fuck up, but Eddie couldn't care less. He loved Steve, who loved him back.
Grinning, he looked up at the sky again. The moon had moved on, but there, creeping over the roof of the apartments next door, Venus finally made an appearance. Laye, but still there, still following. A beautiful, shining pinprick of light, trailing in the moon's wake.
Welcome to my new tag list! @steves-strapcollection, @ghost--enthusiast, @inairbinad, @rhaenyyras, @chocolate-fishy, @lovelyscot, @little-trash-ghost
Feel free to ask to be added/taken off!
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jedi-starbird Ā· 8 months ago
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'Desert hermit Ben Kenobi develops a reputation as a crazy wizard because he keeps talking to thin air.'
No. This is Tatooine, talking to yourself is hardly the weirdest thing they've seen. Ben Kenobi, however, keeps having full on fucking screaming rows with thin air and seemingly gets replies back, which is decidedly a step up.
(They've managed to piece together that a major point of contention is the acquisition and raising of a child? Clearly Ben is a wizard that had a bitter divorce with a desert spirit and is working through a custody dispute)
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dykedvonte Ā· 23 days ago
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I think depictions of Anya being cruel to Curly or drawing out his suffering are artful and chilling but completely miss the point of the story and her character.
I'm not saying she doesn't deserve to have that "I told you so" moment with him but not in something callous or cold. Even if that is how it happened, she'd immediately feel guilty cause at that point she's not tormenting her tormenter or even the person truly at fault. She's doing something cathartic, similar to how Jimmy likely hits Curly to release rage he can't against the rest of the crew. She'd see herself as no different when she'd come back from the moment and see Curly cowering at her. She wants someone to take responsibility but how does being cruel to the defenseless help? Why would she want the power Jimmy has over her over Curly?
The idea of her extending someone else's pain is just so against the struggles she already faces and how she can't even bring herself to cause someone pain even to help them. Her very desire is to release herself from her own suffering and I doubt she'd even fine some sort of guilty release in being cruel to another.
#anya is not a character i see taking agency or indulging in cathartic behaviors#not knowingly like i see her as a character trapped in her head and maybe in the scenario she's cruel to Curly she is envisioning Jimmy#in his place but its not a story about justice or those deserving of punishment and those not like its the opposite of people projecting#their issues on the wrong people and saying things to the wrong people and doing things they shouldn't but anya uniquely falls out of it as#she is subjected to a lot of it but it is also not something she wants to subject another person to like you are doing what Jimmy does and#placing ur rage into another persons and viewing their actions through your eyes like she'd more likely yell at him than do harm or#cause him more pain like at least make it in character#but also she clearly doesn't want to see jimmy or curly in the same light and doesnt because she still repeatedly goes to Curly for comfort#and protection and god there's like concepts that need to be applied to characters individually and then the story as a whole#we can not view the game through only one themed lens less we forget to inspect the compounding factor of Anya is so much more than girl#that needs to be allowed to go off but a woman that simply wants right to be done by her and no more harm like she doesn't want to be aroun#the suffering like idk but some of yall would just benefit from like understanding that people are inherently grey with the capabilities of#black n white thinking or actions#mouthwashing#mouthwashing game#anya mouthwashing#i like her the most but then again i am defensive of all women in media and hate when people change the way the character would take agency#for themselves like yes I want her to tweak out but she just wouldn't and I like seeing realistic depictions of a woman suffering the way#she is like shes not the type at the end of the movie to have a one liner but feel a shallow freedom cause she needs to realistically heal#idk but its just like there is an obbsession forming with making her character her pain and not how she handles and navigates the issue
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joicecubes Ā· 10 days ago
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hey guess whoā€™s absolutely losing it over the stan twins again (spoiler alert its me)
so i was innocently scrolling tiktok when i was introduced to this DIABOLICAL au idea: firstly, what if ford really had shot stan with his crossbow when stan first showed up at the shack? and secondly, what if ford tried to bring him back to life frankenstein-style? (full credit to tiktok user @44boora for this idea, go check their account for some gut-wrenching art) (alsoā€¦ full post below the cut this got long)
but like i was thinking about this, ford bringing stan back to life specifically, and how dependent the concept is on this specific time in his life. i just feel like any other time and under any other circumstance, ford would have been able to, eventually, accept stanā€™s death. we see it at the end of weirdmageddon, where ford is ready to accept that the stan they all know and love is gone now that his memory has been erased. he tells mabel as much, and only realizes thereā€™s hope for him when mabel is determined enough to push back against fordā€™s logic. ford believes very intensely in his own perception of the world. he believes in science. theoretically, he believes death is death, and thereā€™s nothing he can do to change that.
but then, think of ford after heā€™s been betrayed by bill. this ford is at his absolute lowest. he canā€™t trust his own perception of the world anymore. heā€™s seen the truth of what their relationship was and the horrors he was so close to unleashing on their universe. he is desperate to right his wrongs. heā€™s losing sleep, his body is abused every time he closes his eyes, and the end of the world as he knows it is iminent if he doesnā€™t succeed in making the portal as secure and unusable as possible without dismantling it entirely. the only person he believes he can trust after everything thatā€™s happened is stan. so he contacts him for help, and in his time waiting for him to arrive, cannot stop thinking of the worst-case scenario: that bill could still be coming for him. so when he opens the door to stan, his high-strung, paranoid brain doesnā€™t see stan, and he shoots.
he shoots his own brother with a crossbow and kills him.
ford is not usually one to blatantly ignore a scientific fact. again, death is death, and thereā€™s nothing he can do about that. and yet, in a state of such intense grief, when his entire world is already close to crumbling around him and heā€™s holding his dead brother in his arms, thereā€™s nothing else he can feasibly do but deny. so he does.
he lives in denial of a lot of things. that stanā€™s death is final, obviously, but also his reasonings for attempting to do the impossible and revive him. ford likes to believe he operates purely on logic, so he tells himself heā€™s doing this because he has to. without stan, he canā€™t prevent bill from entering their universe. heā€™s still the only person ford can trust, so reviving him is another step in his ultimate goal of stopping bill and saving the world. it doesnā€™t matter that its never been done before, ford will do it anyway. and he believes that he can, because as much as he thinks heā€™s moved on from his hubris, heā€™s still acting off the assumption that heā€™s special. heā€™s so far ahead of everybody else, so naturally, if anybody could accomplish the impossible and bring stan back from the dead, its ford.
and so he denies that the real reason heā€™s trying to save stan is not a logical one. he denies that heā€™s running entirely on emotions. it would be foolish to try something so risky and impossible and time-consuming if he were only doing it because of his crushing guilt and decade-long yearning, so he tells himself thereā€™s so much more to it than that. he canā€™t just be doing this because he loves him, right? heā€™s not that shallow. heā€™s not that desperate.
and yet, he is. because as much as ford wants to deny it, he canā€™t live without stan. he canā€™t live with the knowledge that he was responsible for stanā€™s death. if he didnā€™t succeed, his grief would surely kill him.
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axel-tiredstudent Ā· 1 month ago
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silent conversations and catching up after many years
original version with the wrong arms under the cut
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overtake Ā· 2 months ago
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Trying to do something resembling coping after Singapore. Have some Max/Daniel hurt/comfort (1.3k). Also on ao3 if you prefer.
The press of a button freezes Maxā€™s watery blue eyes, the space between them bifurcated by the crease in his forehead.
ā€œIs now really a moment to remember?ā€ Max asks in a raspy voice. His throat isnā€™t clogged by tears, but thereā€™s almost a decades worth of race starts together sitting uncomfortably in there and congesting each word.
His hand hasnā€™t strayed from Daniel since he found him after the race. Itā€™s somewhere on some part of him every time heā€™s close enough to touch.
Normally heā€™s halfway home by this point, Air Max somewhere over the circuit skies and headed back toward home.
Heā€™s stayed, this time, in case this is it. In case this is his last chance to neatly fold Danielā€™s clothes into his bag, even though his own are always wrinkled under pairs of stained shoes and dirty briefs. In case this is the last time they both exit the paddock as drivers. In case this is the final chance Max has to trace the shape of Danielā€™s jawline and tell him, ā€œGood race.ā€
Danielā€™s mum is giving them a last minute alone. Sheā€™s standing guarding outside the door and leaving them be for now. Daniel knows, though, that when they stand, sheā€™ll hug Daniel close, wishing he was little enough to hide in the crook of her neck while she covers all his gaping wounds with plasters and a kiss on each one to ease the ache.Ā 
Despite his complaints about the camera, Max still moves from where heā€™s crouched in front of Daniel to collapse into his side and observe the photo. He wraps one arm around Danielā€™s back to tug him impossibly closer and rests his mouth on the top of Danielā€™s shoulder in an exhausted kind of kiss.
ā€œI look like shit,ā€ he says, statement muffled by the fabric of Danielā€™s shirt. He sounds like he wants to poke fun at himself until he makes Daniel laugh, but theyā€™re both too hollowed out to muster up the energy. Instead, Max reaches out and turns off the display.
For a second, their fingers linger together on the cameraā€™s body, until Daniel lets the camera drop back against his chest so he can entangle their hands instead.
ā€œItā€™s not a nice memory,ā€ Daniel agrees. Unlike Max, his voice right now can all be attributed to tears. ā€œBut in December, no matter what happens after today, Iā€™ll get a retake on the farm. Iā€™ll be happy, and weā€™ll be together, and life will go on from now.ā€
Daniel feels the dampness on his shoulder when a single tear breaks containment, then another, and a shuddering breath, until Max rights himself and pointedly looks away from the tiny patch soaked in cotton.
ā€œItā€™s not fair,ā€ he says tightly. For a second, he sounds every bit the bullish teenager with a black and white view on the way the world ought to work and bitter frustration that sometimes reality dapples in nuance. Itā€™s the first thing to get Daniel anywhere within city limits of smiling since he set the lap record and gave himself a final moment in the car to reflect on everything this sport had given him, and that he had given this sport.
ā€œYeah,ā€ he agrees hoarsely. ā€œItā€™s not fucking fair.ā€
Heā€™s done with excuses and niceties and dancing on the Red Bull puppet strings in hopes that playing their game might finally net him a seat heā€™d killed himself to earn. Itā€™s not fair. Itā€™s callous and cruel, the way theyā€™ve strung him and everyone who loves him along for a race they arenā€™t even brave enough to tell him is his last.
Theyā€™re silent for another moment. Daniel closes his eyes and soaks it in: the tendrils of freshly washed hair still trailing water down his spine. The din of dog-tired employees breaking down the paddock, to be quickly vanished away as if it was never here. The ragged in-and-out of Maxā€™s lungs as he tries to coax both of their breaths into something resembling normal.
ā€œThank you, by the way,ā€ Max says softly. ā€œAnd congratulations on your lap record.ā€
ā€œYou owe me a really nice Christmas present.ā€
Max presses a whisper of a kiss over Danielā€™s drying curls. ā€œYou always deserve the nicest presents.ā€
Danielā€™s mum slips in then, gently shutting the door behind her. Unlike Max, sheā€™s made no secret of her tears. Her eyes are red-rimmed, but she musters up enough of a smile when Daniel heaves himself up into her arms.
ā€œCome here, Max,ā€ he hears his mum scold. A second later, Max is in an awkward three-person hug. Graceā€™s short arms struggle to embrace them both, but smelling her vanilla perfume and knowing sheā€™s there is enough to surround him in all the ways that matter.
She whispers in turn to each of them, but theyā€™re all so tightly wound, they can all hear every word.
ā€œThank you for being here every time I couldnā€™t be,ā€ she tells Max. He murmurs something back, but he manages to keep it quiet enough that Daniel canā€™t make out all his words. Itā€™s something about thanking her for trusting him with Daniel, but the rest is lost. All he knows is that his mumā€™s tears start flowing again.
When itā€™s his turn, she can barely choke out the words. ā€œIā€™m so proud of you. For your career, of course, but for who youā€™ve grown into. I couldnā€™t have asked for a better son.ā€
ā€œI love you,ā€ is all Daniel manages. He buries the nose shaped like hers into the brown curls that his genes copy-pasted and soaks in gratitude that he has both her face and her endless capacity to love.
Daniel walks into humid night air with his head held high and a career most drivers would kill for, surrounded by people who love him for more than that list of achievements, and knows that heā€™ll survive whatever comes next.
ā€œThatā€™s a terrible photo,ā€ Max complains three months later. His eyes are scrunched up all cute in it, framed by long lashes and sun-soaked freckles that are almost hidden by the streaks of dirt on his face. Heā€™s smiling, both in the picture and right now, so Daniel knows he doesnā€™t actually mind.
Two weeks of busy Australian summer have left Max various shades of pink and tan. He'd somewhat learned how to use the grill that Daniel was too scared to touch and now had matching grill aprons with Daniel's dad. He christened the new baby cow the wholly uncreative name ā€˜Lillyā€™, because god forbid any animal in his vicinity not be named after Monaco nightlife. Heā€™d also 100% taken to the dirt bikes as easily as everyone would assume and had absolutely, definitely not sworn Daniel to secrecy about where he got that giant bruise on his side after their first go.
When Daniel transfers the photos to his computer later, his finger pauses on the photo captured in a melancholic driverā€™s room. In it, Maxā€™s eyes are dull and weary, but theyā€™re looking at Daniel with the same unblinking love from todayā€™s picture.
Itā€™s proof, memorialized in expensive pixels, that Danielā€™s life did not end on the streets of Singapore; that his worth to the world never depended on his points or podiums.
He closes the lid of his laptop and joins the gathering in the living room. Max is pouring fake tea for Isabellaā€™s dolls. Isaac is politely sipping an empty teacup, one pinky in the air. Isabella is nowhere to be found, probably busy dragging Danielā€™s poor parents to see Lilly the cow for the fifth time today.
ā€œDaniel!ā€ Max says, in the sweet, distinct way his mouth always forms the name. His face brightens when Daniel walks in. When Max smiles like that, itā€™s as if the sun has come through the roof and taken human form in broad shoulders and rumpled t-shirts.
ā€œMax!ā€ Daniel says back, matching his enthusiastic tone. He sits cross-legged in Isabellaā€™s empty spot and slides his fingers between Maxā€™s.
The tea party continues, and life moves forward.
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kori-senpai Ā· 8 days ago
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New Leokumi content in the lords year of 2024?? It's more likely than you think! (x)
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ghastlyaffairs Ā· 6 months ago
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for something as trivial and simple those feelings sure are hard to get rid of
also made a gif a version for fun + alt version with no tears under the cut
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the gif is in very low resolution...this is a feature (i could make it bigger but that would require saving each frame individually and than glueing it all together. also i feel like low resolution suits it better. aesthetically and fits the mood)
#hs#homestuck#dirk strider#eye strain#probably? if you think i should tag something else let me know!!#anyway hooray its time for rambling in the tags#so uhhh heres the teƦ i've been sick for like a week and you know how it is when suddenly your throat becomes the main gunk warehouse#and you can't breathe lol. wish i could just pull it out. anywaaayy this is basically a vent piece for me being sick lol#also i could draw remotively the same thing with kris deltarune. oh how easy it is to project having a cold#though i have been also experiencing troubles with feelings recently as well....how fitting for dirk#speaking of the man himself (enough of me) his relationship with his own Heart...is peculiar to say the least#the thing i love about alphakids is that despite being so feral they were. so relatable. i cannot stress this enough how unwell they are an#and how they represented being a teen so well. yeah being 15 years old makes that to you#imagine being an emotional mess and trying to fit the 'norm' and act normal about your friends so youre not offputting#and then you fall in love with you friend and your ai clone falls in love with him too looool noone makes out of this one alive#uhh literally. godtiering stuff and dying remember#and speaking of it. tw for suicidal talk for the rest of tags#do you ever think dirk was suicidal. of course the part of when he teleports his head to jake was totally planned and he knew he would ->#wake up as dreamself but. don't you think the moment he cut his head off was sort of. cathartic. how much did he hate his own guts#beheading himself not only for the plan...but also because he thought he 'deserved' it#also wow he is a Prince and was literally beheaded don't you think its funny hahaa#sigh poor thing#this has ended on a not the very pleasant note hm#also fckkkkkk i didn't draw anything with rose/mary for the lesbian visabilty week#(putting the slash because tumblr search system has a dumb gag with showing you posts that contain the tag inside the other tag.#and i don't want this post to show up for the ros/mary fans because it's not!!!! its rose's father emotional crisis post!!!!)#update YOOOO WHAT THE HELL THE GIF HAS EVEN LESS PIXELS THEN I PLANNED fantastic#this your breakfast now tumblr. enjoy your crunchy flakes of dirks meltdown. mwah
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lopposting Ā· 4 months ago
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with every mistake we must surely be learning
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snowshinobi Ā· 1 year ago
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hear me out: divorce ceremonies. divorce cake and divorce outfits. toasts to the uncouple spoken by the Worst Man and Maid of Dishonor (gender neutral). separate piles of gifts for the freshly parted, stuff like nice sheets and Target giftcards and cookbooks. marriage gets to have all this ritual attached to it and by god divorce deserves some of that action
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bluvlet Ā· 2 months ago
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checkmate.
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chamoemileclown Ā· 8 months ago
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mlp bbh save me
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dent-de-leon Ā· 7 months ago
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It still gets me that there were moments when Molly told Lucien to surrender and go back to the Mighty Nein--promised him that they'd still take him back, that there was still a way out. Mollymauk trying desperately to save his friends. But also, Molly tying to save Lucien too--
"They've only given you this much grace because they want to believe you're me. They'll find a way to best you, they'll kill you before you reach Cognouza, but not if you stop this now. Admit who you are. Admit that a part of me still exists within you...I'm your only way out of this."
After everything Lucien did to him, after how much he tried to hurt him and the rest of the Nein--Molly had absolutely no obligation to save him. But he did. He wanted to. Mollymauk comforting Lucien when it all falls apart at the very end--asking him if he's tired, if he wants to rest. And when Lucien is so sure it's all over? "When a hand reaches out to you in accord, you take it." "Yes, Lucien thought. I'll take it--"
Mollymauk still feeling for Lucien after everything, still deciding to reach out to him in the very end. Because of course he would, of course Molly couldn't just leave him.
And now we have this lovely new lore in the context of the Luxon--about how people would split their souls to better understand themselves when they became whole. Learning to love and accept yourself, seeing the world from another perspective. Thinking of Lucien taking Molly's hand, and the two of them deciding to come back together. Both of them learning to care for each other--
Also, sidenote. Maybe I'm missing something or it was just the effect of Vess killing Lucien while he was in the Astral Sea. But I do wonder how exactly Vess managed to really shatter his soul in the first place, or how Molly's piece found his way back--
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sporesgalaxy Ā· 2 years ago
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okay so. There's this poem I started making in 2019 and only just finished this year. And I was thinking about RenƩ Magritte paintings. So here we are I suppose
The poem is made of chopped-up lyrics from the following songs:
ā€¢ā€¢ā€¢
"First Love/Late Spring" Mitski ā€¢ "No Children" The Mountain Goats ā€¢ "Fly In My Room" Kerrin Connolly ā€¢ "No Surprises" Radiohead ā€¢ "Hope" ROAR ā€¢ "The Comfort of a Laugh Track" ROAR ā€¢ "Emotional Vagrant" The Scary Jokes ā€¢ "Little Dark Age" MGMT ā€¢ "How I Survived Bobby Mackey's Personal Hell" Lincoln ā€¢ "Televised" HUNNY ā€¢ "Bets Against the Void" The Scary Jokes ā€¢ "Life on Mars?" David Bowie ā€¢ "Fluorescent Adolescent" Arctic Monkeys ā€¢ "Love, Me Normally" Will Wood ā€¢ "Catabolic Seed" The Scary Jokes ā€¢ "Puzzle Pieces" Saint Motel
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bunnyboy-juice Ā· 18 days ago
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spent the first hour and change at work deleting some old files and am having a grand ol time laughing at myself for not realizing i was a lesbian sooner
#vulnerable tag rambles ahead please be kind abt them i didnt intent to ramble this much but i dont wanna delete it eitehr#me to every single man i have ever dated after 6mo-1y: yeah hey this really isnt working out i dont really know why but i really hate mysel#and i dont want to blame you because i dont think you did anything inherently wrong here; i think this is something about me but i need#space to figure out why im feeling this way [every single one reacted by telling me No i wasnt allowed to leave btw]#i hold very complex feelings about these relationships esp bc of them ending in very violent/chaotic ways most of the time#but its interesting to look back at it all and realize ive left every man for the same reason (which is that ive hated myself Every Single#Time ive dated a man) and its funny bc i recognized the self hate pretty early on w/ cishet men but when it came to queer men it was#much more confusing (esp w/ nto knowing Any lesbians at that point in my life). im so happy im a lesbian tbh#i have a lot of issues w/ the racism fatphobia and transmisogyny present in lesbian groups#and also coming out as a lesbian really truly saved my life. before i met my wife i was quite literally in a 3yr abusive relationship that#definitely would have died in if i hadnt realzied i was a lesbian and ran from him#its also weird seeing liek the hard evidence of the things that happened to me btween 2016-2020 tbh#cause that was such a bad time of my life. i truly dont know how i survived it but im so glad i did#like the three major relationships in my life b4 meeting my wife was: guy who was in college when i was in HS who stalked me when i left;#guy who was a year younger than me who cheated on me the entire time while telling me he was being victimized (he wasnt; this was very mess#guy who saw the very messy toxic ldr i was in and helped me dump my ex then decided that meant we were in a relationship [insert 3 yrs here#and admittedly all 3 years with him werent the same level of abusive but it was definitely unhealthy from the start considering I Didnt Kno#we were together until he wanted to celebrate vday and got mad i didnt know our anniversary - and like this isnt including the other stuff#that happened between those Relatonships[tm] (cause ive never been monogamous; these were just the Major Relationships)#like i genuinely think if i hadnt come out i'd be dead rn given just how dangerous my relationships were/continued getting#i am also so tired now that ive seen all this cause like. fuck i can barely believe it and i not only lived it but have PTSD about it#i should write about my life sometime. i feel like it'd be cathartic to try and make a tangible timeline and stories from the years ang stu#anyway yeah. be nice about the tag rambles. dont message me with pity or curiosity or anything about this. i dont usually talk abt this stu#publicly bc i hate the ways ppl start tryign to baby me when they realize my life has been extremely fucked up until only a few years ago#n im still working on accepting kindness from others bc of [insert life traumas here] but its a long process so pls respect my need for jus#being heard rn w/o too much pressure< 3 (but ig if u do read this can u like it cause i feel a little crazy seeing all the evidence of the#stuff i experienced now also cause fuck ik logically it was but also i cant believe it was all real still yk)
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joyfullyacat Ā· 2 years ago
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Unordinarily Foolish
haha, don't hurt me, not beta'd it's another hurt no comfort - but this time no one dies! woo!! inspired by @gniteruirui 's animatic here (except then it spiraled way from that and im a little sorry-)
CW: so much self loathing, general heartbreak, pining when your heart wars with your brain, no happy ending word count: 2.7k
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Youā€™ve hit rock bottom it felt like.
What respect did you have for yourself any more?
Thereā€™s been a pain, irate and grating on the nerves right in your sternum lately but it was better than feeling numb.
At least, you think it is.
You go years single without affection, you had your time to date and you took time away from the pool, you got your licks from it, you thought you learned all the lessons.Ā 
Now look at you.
Unsteadily, your hands follow the curves and grooves of the toys you clean with wipes. Under here, around there, get into that crevice. Your thoughts travel and your eyes wander to the subject of those thoughts.
Sun is cackling with giggly kids hanging off every limb, clutching about his legs and wrapped about his arms. Heā€™s carefree and radiant, in his element, there seems not to be a care in the world with himā€¦ And maybe that was what had you ensnared. You stare at the panel in the back of his neck that his jointed neck comes out of. A distinctly inhuman appearance to his otherwise human personality.
Just maybe, this is what kept you away. You were an ordinary fool with a silly heart but your brain was logicalā€¦ Cruel but logical.
You were an ordinary fool with not so ordinary lessons to learn. Like how bad of an idea it is to be in love with something - someone incapable of feeling as you do with temperamental chemicals and functionalities that dictate every part of you from head to toe. Who wonā€™t share the experiences of life with you like an ordinary couple.
What you had was not an ordinary love.
This was no ordinary circumstance.
When did you take his exuberant nature for something more than what it was? When did his crushing hugs of friendly greeting become something that stole your breath away - more than just physically. The nicknames too, the sunshines, dewdrops, and daydreams, every single one of them stuck into you and hid between your ribs, becoming new butterflies thatā€™d flutter in your stomach haplessly against your will.
You have enough respect for him to not dump this onto him or his lunar counterpart, Moon.Ā 
Oh yes, a counterpart. A double decker to your psyche, really.
To be in love with not one but two distinct personalities and individuals that werenā€™t even human. Who likely could not grasp the concept of love, it wasnā€™t something to be easily defined like happiness or sadness, it was muddled by every emotion and bolstered by them similarly.
This wasnā€™t including the fact that you were fleeting in their very, potentially eternal, lives.
This also wasnā€™t including the fact that at any moment, they could be torn in twain and scrapped against your wants to make new animatronics, better ones, new personalities. They wouldnā€™t remember you - even if they kept the same face.
It already happened once, after Sun and Moon were split into their own bodies.
Most of their memories outside of the employee data bank were lost. You were pretty much another face in the crowd to them.
You were happy to befriend them again - at the time thatā€™s what they were. Friends.
Because denial is not just a river in Egypt and you were hopelessly flowing down it back then, oh itā€™s just a crush. Merely infatuation! They were new, exciting, interesting and human enough, but you know now.
No, you were utterly endeared and helpless to how your heart speeds up around them.
Well over a year later.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Moon approaching, slinking in the designated shadowy corners you created with well placed large plushies and decorative hangings.
The animatronic lifts a finger, pointing to what youā€™re doing unknowingly. ā€œI think that toy is clean enoughā€¦ā€ He speaks in his typical low grumble, a permanent growl to his voice that rattles in his chest. Something that comforted you in your lowest moments when heā€™d hug you on days of stress.
His words bring you back to the moment, looking from him then over to the poor anthropomorphic turtle figurine with colored bandana in your hand.
You had stripped some of the color from it. Faded smears of green staining the little white rag.
ā€œAh, yeah. It isā€¦ā€ You cough, setting the toy in with the others and picking up a sort of tubby looking unicorn toy with cheap white hair and a set of sparkles on its hind quarter.
ā€œYouā€™ve been spacy lately.ā€
Ah, he was always the more confrontational of the two. A trait you admired and feared. You thought you were confrontational once upon a time, then you met him. Then you learned how ham-fisted your emotions could be to you. Making you clam up entirely.
Both were observant, eventually a comment would be made on your actions lately, your behaviors. Whatever vitals theyā€™ve been able to read from you.
Sun was far more subtle, much more rounded. Acting sort of as a bumper to your feelings with careful gestures and honeyed words that served to entrap you further, much to his unknowing warmth. Leaving you little sticky notes of well wishes that youā€™d save and so on.
You feltā€¦ Dirty, really. Dirty about it all. Guilty may be more apt. Taking their gifts of friendliness for your own selfish needs. To fuel fantasies of your own design.
A low timbre breaks you from your thoughts, ā€œStarbright?ā€
Right. Heā€™s still there.
Moon brought himself closer, even in that moment of thought. Just an armā€™s length away, well for him anyway. Youā€™d have to lean forward.
ā€œThings have beenā€¦ Going on is all, Moon. Sorry about that, Iā€™ll pay for a replacement toy.ā€ The funny turtle guys are usually stocked in toy aisles, itā€™d be easy to pick one up the next time youā€™re going out for the easiest and cheapest premade meals because you havenā€™t been able to bring yourself to cook properly otherwise lately.
He doesnā€™t look convinced, looking past you to something just over your head, probably over to Sun if you had any guess. The two had a way of communicating without necessarily having to be in speaking range of one another.
Likely some technological link.
You watch as he nods once... Twice... Three times before suddenly decisions are made.
ā€œ...Come on, youā€™re taking your break early.ā€ Is all he says before youā€™re swept up with an arm around your shoulders, promptly escorted to a doorway tucked behind one of the play structures with quite the tall baby gate that keeps wandering tikes from going into it.
Also known as the way to their personal room that wasnā€™t through that funny hook system that made them ā€œfloatā€ to the balcony.
You squirm and writhe against his hold, trying to dig your heels into the carpeted area with all your might but he practically picks you up in your struggles. ā€œHo-Hold on now, I didnā€™t agree to this-!ā€
ā€œDonā€™t careā€¦ā€ He draws out in a mocking sing-song. ā€œAttendantā€™s orders, we care for children, this includes adults who act like children.ā€
Was this how you lost what shred of dignity you had left? Cornered to fess up by your coworker and crush? Could you dumb it down, play it off as if it were nothing? Make up a story about something in your personal life going on?
ā€¦Better question, did you want to?
You wouldnā€™t get a better opportunity than this, even if you wanted to do it with both of them present at the same time. No having to repeat yourself and becoming mortified twice over if there is only one band-aid to rip off, after all.
Though that question was answered for you with the reveal of Sun awaiting you up the stairs, hands on his hips and leaning forward, primed up and ready to chastise you for your mistreatment of yourself.
Quickly, you try to find a way out of this impromptu grilling on your being, ā€œI know you did not leave the kids unsupervised.ā€ You point out stiffly, gesturing to the balcony that the solar-themed animatronic likely scaled.
ā€œYou are correct, I set up their nap hour! We are both capable of itā€¦ Remember I was doing it alone for a time!ā€ Heā€™s chirpy in his jest but distinctly, you feel that smile he canā€™t necessarily help is more sarcastic in this moment.
ā€œSo that leaves you alone with us - ideally uninterrupted with plenty of time to figure out what is wrong with you.ā€ Moon elaborates simply, resting his arms over your head and leaning his weight into you comfortably.
A common way he liked to make fun of his height over you.Ā 
ā€œMhm! So tell us, sweet sunshine, whatā€™s been eating at you?ā€ Sun holds his hands out to you in invitation, flexing his fingers once.
You donā€™t hesitate to take his hands into your own two, staring right into his daylight-bright eyes thatā€™d somehow shine more when he was excited you noticed. You hoped theyā€™d stay like that. You donā€™t ever want to see that light dimmed.
With a deep breath, you decide to take the leap.
ā€œ...What would your guyā€™s responses be if I said I liked you?ā€
The way Moon goes tense, able to tell even with the rigid, barely padded metal resting against you, has you worried.
Sun twitches in your hold, almost as if wanting to pull away, ā€œWellā€¦ It depends in what way you mean by that!ā€
The animatronic above you doesnā€™t reply.
Well, here goes nothing for you. Maybe you can ask to be transferred to a different area. Does Bonnie Bowl need any sort of supervision? Children are in every corner of this place, surely someone good with kids would be good in just about any placeā€¦
How hard do you play this upā€¦ Pouring your heart out would dramatically be for the best you figure.
A little tap to your temple makes you jolt and you can only wish to be able to look up and glare at the attendant who radiates smugness over your head.
ā€œI want to experience life with you in the long run. I want to feel your hands in my hair and I want to be able to care for you similarly, maybe Iā€™d pick up sewing or something to make sure your things fit, I donā€™t know. I wish to teach you what lies beyond these walls I want you - bothā€¦ You andā€¦ā€ You point to Moon above you. ā€œI donā€™t think I could ever choose and risk separation or division. I know there are differences and I'm sorry to dump this all out, it's unwanted and complicating and-ā€ At some point, you start to cry, your frantic blinking had only kept the tears at bay for so long and you couldnā€™t bow your head to hide the waterworks.
So you stared at Sun who looked to you with, you think, eyes that werenā€™t remotely as bright as they once were. You caused that.
The seeming pity you felt from them, the awkward, stoney silence.
Your love for them was theirs to keep, your heart would never be your own you think, not for some time.Ā They could do as they wished with it, it was the only blessing you could give them. For them to know they were loved in that way, even if for them, it does nothing.
ā€œ...Iā€™m sorry.ā€ You apologize once more after a few moments of the deafening quiet that you couldnā€™t bear any longer. ā€œI didnā€™t want to say anything, I was trying to keep it under wraps hoping itā€™d go away but it didnā€™t even when I took that - stupid long break using up all my vacation and sick days in one go-ā€
ā€œWait, that was why you left for a month?ā€ Moon speaks up, interrupting you swiftly and flicking your temple soon after. ā€œYouā€™re unbelievable. See Sun, this is what I mean. Theyā€™re a big child.ā€Ā 
Heā€™s so huffy about it you can see the silent tapping of his slippered foot against the groundā€¦ Actually no, you hear it now. The little bell jingles and his pants sound with the movement.
ā€œMmm, yes. Yes they are.ā€ Sun confirms with a nod.
You huff out something that you think was supposed to be laughter, ā€œYou two are not making me feel any better about this.ā€
ā€œBecause youā€™ve chewed yourself out thoroughly I think! We had to get you smiling somehow.ā€ Sun releases one of your hands to poke at your nose. ā€œI say we did good.ā€
Your now free hand automatically went to rubbing at your eyes to forcefully clear the remaining wetness away, using your knuckles and making your vision scramble momentarily.Ā 
ā€œThisā€¦ Doesnā€™t give me your answer though.ā€ ā€œBecause Iā€™m afraid we donā€™t have one, Starlet. Youā€™ve dreams and ambitions - but we donā€™t share themā€¦ Especially when it sounds like this like is more of a love, isnā€™t it?ā€
Moon has you pinned and you can only let your shoulders lower slowly, forcing down that sticky feeling in your throat, the ball that wants to come out in a sob.Ā 
They didnā€™t need to be so gentle about it. You wanted them toā€¦ Mock you. Do something thatā€™d make you view them at least - something less than pleasant?
Something less than the sweet as peach nature of Sun and the toying black cat nature that Moon possessed, endearing even if sometimes you wanted to take him by the waist and shake him from side to side.
ā€œ...Iā€™m sorry.ā€ Is all you say, again.
Youā€™re not sure what this means for you and your friendship with them. Do they view you as silly? Hopeless? A daydreamer with too lofty ideas? Potentially, too idealistic? Romanticizing what wasnā€™t there?Ā 
ā€œThere is no need for an apology, reallyā€¦ā€ Sun soothes, hushing you when you went to apologize a third time with a press of his finger to your upper lip. ā€œI think you knew our answer to begin with, somewhere in you, didnā€™t you?ā€
You did. The one your brain would tell you whenever your thoughts went down the rabbit hole of what-ifs and possibilities.Ā 
After all, they were made with a purpose in mind. Artificial in design, they had their directive, and you were not part of it. They were in love with their duty, their charges, adoring the children they take care of and see grow with each visit. They were caretakers first and individuals second.
You want to find an end to this conversation, a solid conclusion, something of change, meaningful and positive and before you can broach the topic of how this should go on, the sound of a child crying echoes through the dying conversation, silencing it fully.
A part of you laughs deep down at the comical way the two attendants shoot-up like dogs catching the movement of a squirrel. Another part of you cries and laments at their presence leaving yours, the bubble thoroughly popped as arms drop from your head.
Not a moment of goodbye, not a note of continuing this later. They go over to the balcony.
ā€œOh ho ho! It seems we are up and shining already! Rise and shine from the clouds, whoā€™s ready for snacks?! I say we have little apple bunnies!ā€ Sun cries out with all his joyousness coming out in full force as he launches himself over the railing with a dive.
Moon only spares you a glance, giving you a simple two-finger salute with minimal words before his departure. ā€œGo home.ā€
The moment heā€™s over that rail is the moment you feel the urge to keel over and curl up. You feel you screwed that over spectacularly.
This was never so painful, this was never such an agony. Never did feeling love make you feel like such a wretch of an individual.Ā Like an utter bother.
But you go home as instructed. A quick text sent to your coworkers and a brief, phony explanation to the security guard stationed at the front how you sicked up in the bathrooms and wasnā€™t sure if it was contagious, and youā€™re out of there.
The rest of the day thatā€™d serve as your shift, you spend staring blankly into nothingness while going about chores you neglected previously due to your shifts and emotional turmoil that left you unwilling to move once you got home.
Anything for normalcy.
Anything to not feel useless.Ā 
Even got to cleaning your bedroom, sorting your messes and putting things where they belonged - briefly you feel accomplished.
You go into your prettily made bed at an hour thatā€™d surely give you a sneer and a direct order to nap by Moon. The sun is kissing the horizon and the inky blackness of the sky, making way for heartwarming pinks that bleed to oranges and purples.
All you feel is cold however.
A meager handful of hours later and you wake up just a bit before your alarm is supposed to go off, to your phone chiming with a text.
ā€¦A text.
From your manager.
No email, nothing professional, no official slip of paper.
Hey, sorry to hear you arenā€™t feeling well, I hope it was just something bad you ate and not an actual issue since you donā€™t have sick days but, hey, youā€™ve been moved stations. Effective immediately and all that.
The arcade with DJ Music Man is pretty cool, youā€™ll do just fine there, you may have to learn some basic engineering and wire tampering though.
Your throat hurts from the wail that falls from you. Miserable and broken.
Desperately, your brain tugs at you. It tugs at your heart. That these tears arenā€™t needed, youā€™ve cried, this was for the best. You could heal from this, it wasnā€™t a break up. You still have your job, there are brightsides to this, that change was good.
All your heart could pound about was that you werenā€™t wanted anymore.
Unloveable.Ā 
Foolish.
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