subject line : ❛ ( sms ): you are not gonna believe what just happened. ❜ from : @notweak
( ✉ ⤏ eddie k. ) : go on then hit me ( ✉ ⤏ eddie k. ) : if it’s actually unbelievable i think i’d actually pay you
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subject line : ❛ ( sms ): you are not gonna believe what just happened. ❜ from : @notweak
( ✉ ⤏ eddie k. ) : go on then hit me ( ✉ ⤏ eddie k. ) : if it’s actually unbelievable i think i’d actually pay you
“ the wheels of progress --- sooner or later , they take you back to where you started from . ” / @notweak / * sc
@notweak asked: “are you missing me?”
❝ all the time, eddie-dearest. ❞ rich chimes easily, from his reclined position. he shoots a lopsided smile over his shoulder … and tips himself upside-down over the arm of the couch — a step beyond what he imagined a suffering victorian lady on a chaise-lounge might behave like. very dramatic, of course. his glasses slip a bit on his nose, and dark hair falls messier-than-ever around his face. arms dangle on either side of his head, and he waggles his brows in eddie’s direction; ❝ quick, can you call my manager and tell him i died so i can stay home? ❞
so, okay, yes — he’s a little wrung out from back-to-back flights, too-many-shows-too-fast. he didn’t want to get on another plane-train-taxi-ride. didn’t want any more airports and hotel rooms. didn’t want late nights, didn’t even want cocktail parties. jesus, not for at least a couple months. he’s not sure where he left the guy that did like those things — because this richie was too busy fawning like a newlywed. whatever, whatever, rich thought; he was getting old. but fuck it — he was happy right here.
like an ever-changing carousel — he wears a look of mock-consternation in the very next moment, feigning his slow demise over the side of the couch. back of hand comes up to his forehead;
❝ i’m burning up! see? dying, as we speak, so tragic. it’s an emergency, you know, ❞ he insists, and nearly loses balance in his theatrics. richie makes lazy, sleepy grabby-hands towards eddie, and a grin sneaks up on the corners of his lips that betrays the act; ❝ pleeeaase, doctor k, i can’t breathe without vitamin-you. you might have to give me mouth-to-mouth, ❞ and although he tries to keep up his nonsense charade, his eyes sparkle at eddie gleefully, warmly — possibly with all the warmth in his chest. he sobers just a little, beaming softly; ❝ i always miss you, eds. ❞
@notweak asked : “ 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜 . ”
𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜, it was a sentiment that he felt for years himself, when he was younger, he wondered if adulthood would propel him forward out of it. growing old doesn’t solve anything, it only makes you old and still a mess on the inside.
“you’re preaching to the choir eddie.” stan offers up his half - empty martini glass. not usually one to embellish in the consumption of anything stronger than a fine red wine, he takes a long sip from the glass. “i’ve been a mess for -- well -- since i was a kid. i don’t think growing up in derry helped any.”
Lum: so today’s prompt it weak-
Nature: I am not weak
Lum: but the prompt is wea-
Nature: I am not weak!! I am wrath!!
Lum: ...
Inktober of Mother Nature(EmilyJane/Seraphina)
~Enjoy!
------- GOLDEN HUE SEEMINGLY dance mixed with perhaps ROTTEN intention. lips curl around a straw as he takes a small sip of his milk carton, letting the flavor rest in his mouth for a moment before swallowing. darting those same sharp eyes to his friend, a smile whilst he continues to drink. releasing the straw, karma sits back down at his desk ( FEET KICKED UP AS HE TAKES A MOMENT TO ADJUST HIS LONGER LIGAMENTS ) & laughs softly.
❛ why don’t you just tell him you like him ?? OH, or should i do it for you ?? HMHM, ❜ ( @notweak )
Its just one of those high anxiety days blud, the cold meds in my system are NOT helpinggg. I honestly think its unfair that my neurodivergence makes caffeine useless but the sleeping thingie from meds work fine. I DON'T HAVE TIME TO SLEEP
You are not weak for needing help.