oh gosh i want us to stock hoodies so bad! they’re just really pricey to do through our drop shipping platform so I want to physically stock/print them which we need some more funds to do. but i know i for sure want one for when i’m post op! it’s in the works, trust me.
I think it’s a very subtle romance that’s happening. You know, you have to look very closely. You have to watch it a few times to see the little hints, but there was. At least I was playing romance. In the cockpit I was playing, there was a very deep romance.
So one way that No Control made it onto a lot of radio stations last year was through late-night countdowns. Some radio stations have webpages where either all of or most of their song library is and you can type in the title of the song you want to vote for and “upvote” it. They usually play the songs at the top of the list for around an hour.
But Home isn’t in those libraries right now. Let’s try and get it on! We were able to before.
Instead of tweeting the stations that do these countdowns asking them to play Home, for now, tweet them politely asking them to add Home to their countdown library.
These are two stations who are doing it right now (reply to the linked tweets to ask them):
“Honey, I just left a silly voicemail on your phone, please don’t listen to it,” Bitty says on the other line, his voice stuffy like he’s been crying. “Delete it.”
“Wait, what? Bits. What’s wrong?”
Jack’s heart is racing as he slides into his car, phone pressed hard against his ear. His shirt is damp from the rain, making it stick to his skin. He’s cold all over, from the worry or the weather he doesn’t know. There’d been… what, ten missed calls from Bitty? More?
“… Jack, I… I…,” Bitty starts, long stretches of silence between the words. “… Can we talk?”
Jack’s stomach nearly drops through the floor. He knows what those words mean, said them himself, before, once. Hearing them tumble out of Bitty’s mouth in a rush sets Jack’s whole world off balance. His head feels dizzy, and his throat is tightening up like he might cry, or puke. Outside, the rain beats heavy against his car, and there’s a thunder clap in the distance that rattles his bones.