I miss this place. I miss making funny things for all of you. I miss interacting with all of my wonderful followers. I miss meeting new people. I just miss it all so much.
But I’m afraid things beyond my control have kept me away. I just don’t have the energy or concentration to keep up with my tumblr. I have a hard time coming up with funny ideas. I have an even harder time finding a way to turn those ideas into posts. I’ve had to give up photography all together. I tried just eating a meal with my parents for my birthday, and after ten minutes of sitting up straight, I ran out of energy and had to lay back down. My chronic fatigue, my narcolepsy, my depression… they all seem to fight one another in an unending battle that just keeps getting worse and worse. It’s hard to describe just how tired I am. How fatigued my body gets. How my limbs feel like they weigh hundreds of pounds.
I’ve run out of doctors to see. Treatments to try. Pills to take. Injections to… inject. My only last real hope is to go to the Mayo Clinic. They have a knack for creating treatments for people with complicated medical needs. But there’s the rub. They are out of state. My insurance wouldn’t cover it. I’d have to stay for days or even weeks. I barely have enough to pay for food, much less a ticket to another state. At this moment, it just doesn’t seem like a possible option.
If there is a bright side… I’m comfortable. I’m not in any pain. I am plenty occupied with the internet, TV, and movies. And in the category of “mixed blessings” I am emotionally numb. No, I cannot feel great joy. Which kinda sucks. But I also cannot feel great sadness. No despair. I still get lonely from time to time. And maybe a little.. frustrated. But I cope with those things pretty well most of the time. I think if I did have emotions at the moment, they would all suck pretty hard. So I feel like at this point, it isn’t so bad being a little numb.
I have a couple of great friends that stick with me even when I’m a huge bummer. I have two amazing parents that take care of me when I can’t manage to care for myself. I have a quirky little dog that visits me from time to time.
I know there are chronic conditions that cause much physical and mental pain. I know I don’t have much of a life at the moment, but I am grateful that I can stay reasonably comfortable. Though I could go without the kidney stones I seem to keep getting. Having those removed is just awful and my last recovery period did not go well at all.
In any case, I just wanted to let you all know I am still around. I promise I am not giving up. But I am also coming to terms with the fact that I might not be able to do much about my situation. I will continue to seek out new treatments, medications, and even doctors that might help. I try to keep tabs on the latest research. Maybe some day they will find a key to this jail I’m stuck in.
You all have brought me so much joy. It has been an honor entertaining you over the years. This is by no means a goodbye. Perhaps just a “see ya later.” Take care of yourselves. Take care of one another. Stay strong. And perhaps keep me in your thoughts every once in a while. I guess it’s just nice knowing I’m not forgotten. Helps keep me going day to day.
I walked into the room, avoiding direct eye contact with the alien waiting for me. Its huge eyes just looked like a jet black sclera set in a sack of vaguely damp, wrinkled gray leather. If eyes are a window into the soul, this creepy little guy would give satan a run for his money. They just put me on edge, somehow. I’d have to make eye contact anyway, but it could wait.
I strode up to the meeting table, pulled out the chair, and sat down. I shuffled around in my bag for a moment before pulling out a small piece of tech, which I set on the table in front of me.
“Before we begin, I want to be sure of a few things. This device you’ve provided us with, it is 100% effective at understanding and translating languages, correct?”
The alien across from me nodded. It’s a nice little allowance they’ve made for comfort, learning our body language, but its bulbous head threw the whole gesture off. It made me think of one of those old inflatable toys with a weight on the bottom, that would lean too far to the side before bouncing straight back up. Woobles or something. It didn’t really matter.
“Nearly. We occasionally find a race with one or two concepts that it has trouble with, but that’s easily smoothed over.”
I took a deep breath, and waited a moment to compose myself. This whole thing was going to be more trying than not interrupting old man Higgins up the street while he went on about whatever racist sentiment was in his head at the moment.
“One or two…okay. That’s odd.”
The alien blinked. Eyelids came in from not just the top and bottom, but also the sides. That’s just plain creepy. Reminds me of one of those really old movies they threw on the media blacklist pretty much as soon as first contact started. Something in black. Whatever it was, I remember seeing it as a kid, and that guy at the beginning had nothing on this alien’s eyes.
“Have you already found something it can’t translate?”
I nodded, then pulled out my communicator and scrolled through a few documents. I really needed to clean this thing out. Can’t believe I didn’t get around to it before coming to such an important meeting. Imagine the debacle that would result if I opened exactly the wrong thing. Never can know what that might be, honestly.
“Of a sort, yes. Mind humoring me for a few minutes?”
The alien steepled its hands together, and leaned forward. That’s just plain creepy. I wonder how they learned such context specific body language? Not that it really matters, I guess. Not my problem.
“Certainly. After all, it can take years to accept a race into the Federation.”
Nodding again, I pulled up a document on my communicator, then leaned back in my chair as I began. This was going to be more interesting than that time your classmate Jimmy found some old matches somewhere and almost burned the school down by mistake.
“Excellent. This shouldn’t take much time. I mentioned that we found some issues with your device. Allow me to demonstrate: Espionage.”
The little device on the table beeped, and a red light flashed.
“ERROR: NO ANALOGUE FOUND”
I sighed. That one had been an accident. We just had the thing sitting in a conference room while we discussed the implications of the visit when it came up. But, when something that simple for us to understand came up, we had to try for more.
Again, a beep and a flash of red.
“ERROR: NO ANALOGUE FOUND”
And again with the beep. This was going to get irritating if I didn’t speed things up a bit. Too bad we hadn’t managed to find a mute option for that feature.
The device gave off a series of distressed beeps, punctuated by rapid blinking of the little red light. I almost felt sorry for it. Almost.
“TOO MANY ERRORS DETECTED. REBOOTING. RUNNING SELF DIAGNOSTIC. NO DISCREPANCIES FOUND,”
I paused, and glanced across the table at the alien before looking back down at the translator. This was going to hit it harder than a washed up holovid actor with no auditions and less money hits rock bottom.
The chair across from me clattered to the ground as the alien practically fell out of its seat. I don’t blame the poor thing. Of all the aggressive, militaristic words we tried, that was one of the ones we least expected to translate. I mean, really. Who has a word for the intentional extermination of an entire sapient species when they don’t even understand fundamental hostile international mechanics like spying?
“Why do you have a word for…what was all that just now?”
I chuckled a bit while motioning for the alien to sit back down. His reaction had been pretty good, perfectly suitable for one of those hammed-up old dramas where the hero realizes they’ve been working with the villain all along.
“We were confused about that too. So we took a look at the information you sent as part of first contact with us. We noticed something interesting. Every single race in your Federation is carnivorous. Why is that?”
The alien seemed smaller somehow as it settled back into a seat. It looked kind of like a balloon slowly losing air, if that balloon was made of moldering gray leather with eyes that made your spinal column decide it wanted a holiday in Fiji.
“First contact has always been made after sapient races make it to multiple worlds. We’ve never found a sapient herbivorous race which failed to destroy themselves in resource wars and aggressive action. We’ve never found herbivores capable of surviving long enough to leave their own world.”
I leaned forward in the chair and smiled while finally making direct eye contact with the alien. I think the poor thing shivered when I did that. Not that I blame it. Imagine your reaction when you start to put the pieces together and realize that your friendly, upstanding next door neighbor might be the world’s most wanted criminal.
“And the races you have found, while commonly using threat displays, do not waste resources on wars they cannot easily win, correct?”
The alien nodded as it slouched a bit in its chair. It looked kind of like it was trying to hide. Who wouldn’t want to hide from the monsters in their closet?
“Wasted resources means decreased likelihood of survival.”
I shrugged. That was true enough, though rather coldly logical. Dispassionate logic like that has never been our strong suit. Then again, that’s why I’m in this situation in the first place, so it evens out.
“And yet herbivores constantly waste resources on aggression, on movement, on having more young than will possibly survive.”
The alien was staring at me. I’m not sure when the last time it blinked was. I wonder if those eyes need some kind of lubrication to keep from drying out. Probably, they looked a bit less creepy than they should’ve. Looked like they were losing their shine.
“And they die for it. That’s exactly why we’ve never encountered spacefaring herbivores. Their inherent aggression is their own demise.”
I held eye contact. I’d almost swear the alien was a weird statue right now. Don’t know who would commission a statue made of old greasy leather, but I’m sure there’s someone with too much money and too little sense who would give it a shot.
“Indeed. Now, back to the subject at hand. I’ll ask you before we continue: what can you offer humans for joining your Federation?”
The alien sputtered as it started moving again. I’d swear it looked offended. Maybe it doesn’t see where this is going. Not that it really matters, I guess. I mean, it probably matters about as much as posting a formal complaint to a new corporate policy, which is to say not at all.
“We’ve already sent the offer. You’ve seen that, I’m sure.”
I nodded, and began to tap out a staccato rhythm on the table with my fingers. I never could remember where I learned this stupid tune. I’ve known it as long as I can remember, and it just moves into my head on occasion and sticks around like that one couchsurfing friend who doesn’t understand the idea of wearing out their welcome.
“And I’m asking, what else do you have to offer?”
The alien just shook its head again, staring at the device. I wonder if it thought we might’ve tampered with it. As if we knew how. That little thing is way beyond our current abilities. We had some scientists pry it open and look inside, just to be sure.
“Nothing. I’m not sure why you’re-”
I raised my hand, cutting him off. Huh. Not sure why that worked. Did they learn that much of our body language? That’s still really creepy, if it’s the case. Or, maybe I just have it on edge. I dunno. I guess it doesn’t matter.
“May I have permission to connect my datapad with my ship’s computers?”
The alien glanced away from me for a moment. I assume it was checking in with superiors somehow. Maybe it was psychic, to an extent. Or maybe they just had an implant of some sort. We’ll find out eventually, I’m sure.
“Yes, if you like.”
I sighed. I guess that makes things easier for us. I don’t think anyone was going to like what I was about to do. This whole thing felt kind of like one of those holovids of an accident, where you know what’s coming and don’t want to keep going, but for some reason you just can’t seem to stop and pull yourself away.
“Computer, show video: Hiroshima”
A screen appeared in the air above my datapad. It started playing back an old, grainy video. Shaky, taken by hand in an aircraft in a firefight. Below, you can barely see a city being blotted out by a massive explosion. A cloud of smoke, fire and debris was rapidly climbing into the sky, billowing, growing, blooming into an eerie and easily recognized mushroom cloud.
“That’s…you’re using weapons of that scale on a population center? How recent was this?”
I shrugged, and closed the video. The screen on my datapad went back to the document I had up earlier. Gotta love how well they managed to predict this whole thing. I made a mental note to recommend a raise for whoever set up that document for me.
“Three centuries ago. Prior to our invention of spaceflight. Part of a much larger conflict. This is a relatively minor example of “overwhelming force”“
“ERROR: NO A-”
“Shut it. Computer, show infosheet: Battle of Stalingrad.”
A series of graphs and diagrams appeared above my datapad. They showed resources, time, maps, battle plans, and death tolls. Images were interspersed throughout, as were annotations on the tactical value of this, the emotional value of that. Prominent among them was a single apartment building, including notes on sniping from the roof and support via tunnels.
“That…what purpose would that…why w-”
Again, I raised my hand to cut him off, before closing the infosheet. Maybe it was both. Nah, couldn’t be. Only way it was both having this guy on edge and our body language is if it somehow had our body language built in. Unsettling thought, but not exactly likely.
“Because Stalingrad was an advantageous location and the people who died there were considered ‘Acceptable losses’“
“Computer, show gallery: General Sherman’s March to the Sea.”
A multitude of images appeared over the datapad. Rail lines and roads intentionally broken and destroyed. Farms and fields scoured clean and left to fallow. Buildings and towns razed to the ground. A broken people left to mourn and starve.
“So much waste…that can’t be intentional, can it?”
I glanced at the images, the wanton destruction that campaign caused, and the very orders that caused it. That kind of thing may be considered morally reprehensible now, even a war crime, but it wasn’t always. At the time, the strategy was extolled as one of the reasons the war ended the way it did.
“It was intentional.”
The alien stared at me, its reflective black eyes bigger than I’d ever seen them before. Creepy as all hell, that’s for sure. I’d rather not deal with these kinds of meetings in the future. Maybe after this I could negotiate for some kind of retirement.
I tapped my datapad and closed the gallery, then leaned back and tossed my feet on the table. May as well relax, I already knew how this was going to end.
“Because it rendered the enemy unable to use resources Sherman couldn’t keep. Computer, assemble and show video grouping: RTS Games”
A large grid of videos came up, showing a huge range of scenes. Largely battle, the settings varied from open space to deep ocean, from early history to the far “future.” Even battles across space and time could be seen.
“The translator can’t have gotten that right. Those are military tactical simulations. Higher level than anything I’ve ever seen or heard of.”
I laughed as I closed out all of the videos and turned back to the alien. Creepy and unsettling as it might be, I’m pretty sure I was terrifying the poor thing. Not that I really felt sorry for it. Not at all.
“No. They aren’t. Those are games. Toys. For. Fun. And they’re a couple hundred years out of date. From what I’ve seen, nearly every human capable of coherent speech is capable of tactically overwhelming your Federation. And since we’re already here, in space, it’s too late for you to say no. So, I’ll ask again:
It’s been a while since I wanted to do this crossover with the episode “Last one out of beach city” from Steven Universe (I mean, Chloe and Max totally have the repressed nerd and mystery girl vibes !)
Does some of you are interessed about me trying to write a one shot inspired of it ? (I mean I’m french and I don’t have a lot of time, but I want to give it a chance I’m pretty inspired xD)
In littlespace, your little will do some very strange things to show their emotions. Flopping, is one of the strangest. Flopping is the act of falling or collapsing face first into the floor, bed, etc. It can mean a variety of things when you catch your little flopping.
If flopping occurs during or after a fight, or when your little has been told “no”, it is the infamous silent tantrum. Your little is pouting and refuses to look at you until you’ve made it up to them. More than likely, your little will not move until you say sorry and give them a cookie.
If the flop occurs while you’re busy, your little wants attention. Badly. Normally, flopping in this case will mean that you ignored, or didn’t notice their previous attempts to get your attention. The flop is the final attempt before crying. It is your last warning before all hell breaks loose.
If flopping occurs seemingly at random, or after a long day of adult stuff, the world is crashing down on your little’s shoulders. Your little is at their limit and needs care desperately. This is when you need to be the best you can for them. Make them some macaroni and give them a long warm bath. Make sure you have them drink lots of water or gatorade, and get them to sleep.
Flops are easily cured, and actually adorable. I hope this helps any new caregivers!
Hi would you like to make BTS reaction to their gf likes to wear boxer (either its theirs or she buy it herself)? It’ll will be fluff or smut is up to you^^
Thank you for the request love, and sorry for the Hiatus/Wait. I miss doing these, so while I don’t feel 100% I’m still going to put in some effort. :) Hope you guys understand.
He thinks it’s cute, and seeing you walk around his bedroom clad only in his boxers and one of his oversized t-shirts is something he’ll never take for granted.
Now, that doesn’t mean it’s what he prefers to see you in. You know exactly what he prefers to see you in:
“Baby, you’be been wearing those boxers a lot lately, why don’t you wear something a little sexier, huh?”
“I really want you to put on something dirty for me. C’mon, treat me right.”
He is obsessed.
He doesn’t even care that you literally stole them, not asking for a pair directly. Which in itself shows you how much he likes the image. Jungkook doesn’t share cloths.
Would want you to model for him a little bit, so he can take some pics for those long nights on the road.
“Please, it’s the least you can do since you stole them.”
“Don’t you feel a little bit bad about being a theif? This is how you can make it up to me.”
Okay, but you waking up in the early morning after a great night of just spending time together and sex? Yes. You not being able to locate your own cloths bc you and Tae literally tore the clothes off of each other? Yes. You giving up after looking for 0.3 seconds and just pulling on the silken pair strewn onto the floor? Hell yes.
Imagine him waking up bc you’re not there to cuddle, groggily reaching out for you, irritated that you’re not there, slowly pulling himself up out of bed and seeing you in them for the first time.
Boy is dumbstuck you look so good.
“Ahh, jagi it’s too early to get out of bed, don’t you think?” His eyes are so dark, the longing in them off the fucking charts.
He would push the sheets off of him, palming himself while not once taking his eyes off of you.
“Seeing you in those. I really wanna fuck you.”
He would wonder for weeks where his boxers had gone too. When he finds out that the culprit is you, he is a little bit miffed.
“Those are designer!”
“I never even suspected you! I blamed Joon because he never washes his cloths and always trys to bum!”
“Now I’m going to have to apologize. Do you know how much I hate not being right?”
You honestly think he can take in the sight of you wearing just his boxers and not throw you over his shoulder? take you to the bedroom? and fuck you so hard you have trouble remembering your own name?
You make a point to steal a couple more pairs, using them to tease him and test his limits.
You even wear them under your jeans sometimes, bending over that little bit so your waistband rides down and he gets a peak.
“You’re a menace, sweetheart.”
“Being a tease isn’t very nice. Gotta teach you a lesson huh?”
It becomes a regular thing, because lets face it, Jimin thinks you look best when you’re wearing his clothes.
“You wearing them tonight?”
“You should, I like seeing you in them.”
“If you do, I’ll be extra sweet to you, yeah?”
It makes the possessive part of him immensely pleased.
“This is a problem, babe.”
“Now I get turned on whenever I see my own boxers! It’s like pavlovs dog.”
“How am I supposed to deal with all of these random boners?”
Eddie sucks in a breath when he watches Richie slide on a clean shirt, his back muscles flexing. He shudders and shakes away the thoughts because, Eddie Kaspbrak and Richie Tozier are not gay, okay? Especially not together. Just sometimes they kiss and give each other hickeys when they’re alone. (They don’t admit to anyone they’re from each other, but they wear their bruises proudly.) (Okay, so they’re a little gay.) (They’re hella gay.)
It’s just another day in Derry. The Losers are in the hallway grouping up before their classes start. Richie and Eddie are running late. Again.
Just as the warning bell sounds, the two are rushing in toward their friends.
“Where have you guys been?” Stan asks, his eyes immediately adverting to Eddie’s neck, “And what the hell is that?”
“Richie’s truck wouldn’t start,” Eddie said, initially ignoring Stan’s question before he covers his neck, “Yes, shut up, it’s exactly what it looks like.”
Eddie side-eyes Richie nervously, “S-some girl.. I went out last night.”
“Out?” Bill asks.
“Yeah..” Eddie trails off, remembering the night before.
He and Richie were both shirtless, Eddie in his lap, slowly moving himself around, moaning loudly as Richie attacked his neck like the leech he is.
“Eddie,” Bev calls out while dramatically waving her hand in front of Eddie’s face, “You good? You spaced out for a minute there.”
“Yeah, m’fine. I’ll see you guys at lunch.” Eddie turns and walks away in the opposite direction.
“Not gonna kiss your best friend goodbye?” Richie laughs when Eddie flips him off without turning around.
“Is it me or did Eddie seem really off when he responded to our questions?” Mike asks as the group watched the smallest boy go.
“Maybe it’s because he got fucking mauled last night. Did you see the size of those hickeys?” Ben makes a face and chuckles with Bill.
Richie awkwardly scratches the back of his neck and it must be his lucky day, because before his uncomfortable stance could be sensed by the group the second bell rings, “Yeeaaahh.. I’ll catch you guys later..”
After Richie leaves, the group disbands.
Two periods later, Eddie is in science when his phone vibrates on the desk. He slides it between two books, trying not to get caught checking it.
Richie: what’re you doing [9:56AM]
Eddie rolls his eyes and types back, ‘im in science. cant skip today.’ [9:57AM]
Richie: you dont even kno what i was gonna ask [10:01AM]
Eddie: was it that? [10:01AM]
Richie: ok yeah but this time its different [10:04AM]
Eddie’s mouth turns into a frown. Different? How? Everytime he skips with Richie they always go get fast food together and only sometimes he convinces Eddie to smoke with him.
Eddie: what do you mean? [10:06AM]
Within seconds he gets a message back, but this time it’s a picture attachment. He opens it, almost regretting he did (he really doesn’t), eyes widening. Richie had taken a picture of himself- only showing his mouth and below. He’s biting his lip and- Eddie slams his phone down when he sees it- Richie has a hand down his jeans. Eddie’s face is flushed red.
“Mr. Kaspbrak, are you okay?” His teacher turns around from the chalkboard, shooting him a worried glance.
“Yes, fine. Can I use the restroom?”
“Sign out, please.”
Eddie does quickly and nearly runs out of the classroom. He unlocks his phone, Richie’s contact still up, and types out a blatant, ‘where the fuck are you’
Richie: downstairs bathroom, near the music department [10:12AM]
Eddie narrows his eyes and walks down a flight of steps, turning a few corners, before attempting to pull open the bathroom door. It’s locked. That bastard fucking planned this.
“Open the door, asshole.”
The lock clicks, and the second it does, Eddie is pushing himself through the doorway, locking it again. He faces Richie.
“You’re such a little shit. You know that?”
“What’re you gonna do about it?” Richie challenges.
Eddie shoves him against the sink, “I shouldn’t do anything about it- you’re practically begging me to.”
Richie smiles cheekily, “Hm. I am.”
Eddie pulls Richie’s head back by his hair, lips immediately attaching to his neck, sucking hard. He has his other hand on the boy’s hip, tucking his fingers into the hem of his shirt, yanking it over his head, throwing it on the counter. He marks up Richie’s entire chest.
“Enough marks, I look like a fucking cheetah.”
Eddie gives him one more on his hip just to spite him. He stands back up, cupping his cheek, leaning in to kiss him on the mouth, but isn’t surprised when Richie doesn’t let him. Richie doesn’t do mouth kisses. He thinks back to a few weeks ago when they were sitting in Eddie’s room when he first tried to kiss him.
“No,” Richie had said quietly, “Too intimate. No kissing.”
But Eddie still wants to kiss Richie. No homo, of course, because that’s gay and Eddie Kaspbrak is not gay.
Those thoughts are interrupted when Richie flips him to the counter, kissing down his neck softly, taking off his shirt.
“You don’t always have to be in control, Eddie,” He whispers against the smaller brunettes pale skin.
“I know, but I want to. I like it.”
“Let’s change that..” Richie kneels down, unbuttoning his jeans, shoving the clothing to his ankles.
“Richie-” Eddie tries to protest, but cuts himself off. His eyes flutter to the back of his head and brings one hand to his mouth to bite his wrist, and the other one to pull on Richie’s hair because good god.
The next time The Losers meet up again is at lunch. Everyone but Eddie is there.
“Hey-hey, you guuuys,” Bev sings, setting her tray down. “Anybody want to trade their french fries for my tater tots?”
“T-They’re the same thing,” Bill tells her.
“You’re a fake friend. Everyone knows it’s about the texture.”
Ben rolls his eyes, “Nuh uh, it tastes all the same. You’re so weird.”
“No, you both are weird. Texture is everything, it-”
“I’ll trade with you, Bev.” Stan speaks up. “I understand.”
“At least someone d-”
Mike cuts her off when he sees Richie parading over, bruises covering his neck, “Holy shit. You guys. Horton spots a hoe.”
“That’s not the correct quote.” Richie says while narrowing his eyes behind his glasses.
“Look at this, kids! What do we have here?” Ben pokes one of the many hickeys. Richie hisses in pain.
“Whoever gave you those must have been fucking rough. I mean damn, you’re wincing like a bitch. They’re so purple they’re almost black,“ Mike said with a small laugh before digging into his fries.
“You look like a cheetah.” Ben laughs.
“I told him that.” Richie mutters. If they heard him, they don’t say anything.
“W-Why did you let someone give you all of those i-if it h-hurts? And in s-school?”
“Because, my dear Billy,” Richie slings an arm over Bill’s shoulders, “At the time it felt fucking amazing.” He ignores Bill’s second question, but it’s just his luck that Eddie walks over just as he kisses and tells. Richie winks at him.
“Hey, Ed. You missed it. Richie was just telling us about his new lover,” Bev says, her voice filled with a tone salty enough to season McDonald’s fries.
“Excuse me,” Richie sputters, “You guys were pestering me about my hickeys- I said nothing about a lover.”
“Yeah, because there’s so many,” Ben says, reaching to poke at them again but reviving a slap on the wrist from Richie.
“You should see his chest.” Eddie tells them absentmindedly.
Richie shoots him a look, but it’s too late.
“There’s hickeys there, too? Damn, Richie.. Wait- Eddie, how do you know that?” Bev asks, almost knowingly, that salty tone almost tripled.
Eddie panics, “We have gym together.”
They don’t have gym together.
Mike changes the topic for Eddie’s sake, “Hey, are you gonna eat lunch, Richie?”
Richie looks at Eddie, “Nah, I ate earlier.”
Eddie’s face turns a bright red.
Eddie lays on Richie’s chest, tracing patterns onto his stomach. The other boy had fallen asleep minutes after Eddie snuck into his room. He’s been playing with his hair for merely an hour and his hand is getting tired. He retreats it slowly, resting it on Richie’s cheek, rubbing his freckled skin softly. He pauses his movements, suddenly extremely interested in what his lips would feel like, pressed onto the other boy’s. He doesn’t stop himself from leaning into Richie’s space.
Eddie places his lips onto his friend’s, cautiously, not trying to wake him. He pulls back only to do it again, however, this time he was not so lucky.
Richie’s breath hitches, and his eyes open. He sees Eddie hovering over him, and judging by how close he was, he realizes what he was doing. He sits up abruptly, letting the sheets fall from his body, and Eddie detangle from him. Richie searches Eddie’s eyes, unsure of what he could be thinking.
Eddie tries to speak but Richie touches his face and he closes his mouth.
Richie grabs Eddie by the neck, dragging him closer. His lips ghost over the smaller boys, before pressing his hickey-littered chest to Eddie’s, and parting his lips with his own. It’s not needy, surprisingly. That’s all the atmosphere has been between them, recently. Richie lets himself lay back down, not breaking their kiss.
Eddie gets the hint and crawls on top of him, mouths never leaving each other’s. It’s slow and open-mouthed and really, really messy. But it’s great. Fucking fantastic, actually.
The two kiss lazily until they fall asleep, Eddie still on top of Richie.
“Rise and shine, princess.”
A pillow comes in contact with Eddie’s face. “Did you know that you doing that could have like, killed me?”
Eddie sucks in a breath when he watches Richie slide on a clean shirt, his back muscles flexing. He shudders and shakes away the thoughts because, Eddie Kaspbrak and Richie Tozier are not gay, okay? Especially not together. Just sometimes they kiss and give each other hickeys when they’re alone. (They don’t admit to anyone they’re from each other, but they wear their bruises proudly.) (Okay, so they’re a little gay.) (They’re hella gay.)
“I don’t want to go to school,” Eddie groans and throws his head back onto the pillow.
“You have to, bubba. C’mon, up, up, up.” Richie pats his legs.
“Don’t have clean clothes,” Eddie says.
“You can wear some of mine.”
Eddie picks out a hoodie (it smells like Richie) and a pair of basketball shorts (Richie’s jeans are too long for him- curse that long ass bitch).
They brush their teeth together quickly before heading out.
It takes a few minutes for Richie’s truck to start. They end up having the neighbor help him jump it.
“Think we’re late?” Eddie asks.
“Nah, we should be fine. If not, we could skip first.”
Eddie catches the wiggle of his eyebrow. “You’re fucking disgusting.”
Richie grabs Eddie’s hand, raising it to his mouth, and presses a soft kiss to it. “Kidding, babe.”
Eddie’s heart soars.
“Well if it isn’t Richie and Eddie, almost late. As usual.” Stan gives them a look.
“My truck wouldn’t start this morning, again.”
“Hey, aren’t those Richie’s clothes?” Ben points out.
“Yeah,” Eddie shrugs, “I stayed over last night and I didn’t have any extra clothes with me.”
“Isn’t that s-sweet.”
“Yeah, sure.” Richie rolls his eyes at Bill’s snickering.
After the warning bell goes off, Richie and Eddie had never left The Loser’s so quickly.
Despite Eddie’s whines, they spend all of first period making out in the bathroom.
“You’ve never wanted to kiss me before,” Eddie says into Richie’s mouth.
Richie pulls back, “Mhm, I was missing out, obviously.” He connects their lips back together, weaving a hand into his hair, nudges his head into an easier angle to work with. Richie has his tongue shoved so far down his throat, Eddie feels as if he could choke (not that he’d complain).
But here he was, that feeling coming back again. Eddie groans, pulling away.
Richie notices and trails butterfly kisses down Eddie’s neck, making sure to kiss all of his hickeys.
Richie jerks back immediately, his heart about to leap from his chest, “Did I hurt you? What’s wrong?”
“We can’t keep doing this if we aren’t going to address the elephant in the room.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t.. Don’t act so incredulous, Rich.”
“I’m not, I-”
“We can’t keep fooling around if we can’t discuss.. Us.”
Richie swallows and avoids eye contact.
“Look at me.. Look at me, damn it.”
The older boy does as he’s told.
“Richie.. I- I can’t do this unless.. Unless we can be more. I want more, I want all of it. I want to go on cute dates with you, and I want to hold your hand. I want to kiss you in public. Hell, I want to kiss you all the time. I want you. I want all of this, because I have fallen head over heals in love with you, Richie Tozier.”
Richie stares in shock as his best friend confesses this to him.
“Please, say something..”
Richie is too speechless. Yet the second he tries to, Eddie is backing away. “Forget it. I-I’m sorry.”
Which means, the next few days are really awkward. Eddie ignores Richie in school. He doesn’t go visit him in the middle of the night, and he locks his window so Richie can’t, either.
Eddie has been trying to eat his lunch as quick as possible and get the fuck out of there before Richie spots him.
Today he was not that lucky.
Just as he is throwing his trash away, he turns and bumps into none other than the boy he was avoiding.
“Hey,” Richie grabs at his arm.
“We.. need to talk.”
“Oh, we already did. Well, I did.” Eddie pulls out of his grip. Richie watches him leave.
“Eddie Kaspbrak!” He calls out. When he doesn’t turn around, he sits on the seat next to Bill.
“W-What did you d-do?”
“Eddie is in love with me.” Richie states.
“Whaaat? Nooo,” Stan said without looking up from his textbook, his voice filled with sarcasm.
“Wait, so you guys knew and didn’t tell me?”
“Not our place.” Ben says, also without looking up.
“Yeah, plus we didn’t know what you guys were doing. You two have been out boning god knows who, because you both are stupid.”
Mike is clueless, Richie thinks.
“You guys.. Eddie and I have been.. Um.. hooking up with each other for the last few months now.. But, we finally kissed. On the mouth. Just a few days ago. And he doesn’t think I want him as.. As my boyfriend. But I do! I just was shocked to even say anything when he told me. Now he wants nothing to do with me.”
His friends are surprised by that (all except Stan), because they didn’t actually think they were with each other like that.
“You fuckass.” Bev rolls her eyes. “Eddie has been leaving school early, so if you go now.. You might be able to catch him.”
Richie has never run so fast in his life, and, obviously, The Losers needed to see this. They’re having trouble keeping up.
Richie is standing in the bed of his truck when he sees Eddie walking in the opposite direction.
This time Eddie turns to look at him. The students around him are looking, too. He rolls his eyes and walks back to him. “What are you doing?”
“I want it too, Eds! I want more, I want all of it. I want to take you on those cute dates and I want to hold your hand and kiss you in public, in private, all the time. I, too, am in love. More specifically, in love with you, Eddie Kaspbrak. I want to give you so much more.. But I think you’ll have to be my boyfriend first.” Richie hops down from his truck and reaches out for Eddie’s face, “What do you say, bug?”
Eddie nods, his eyes brimming with tears he tried to will away, “Took you long enough,” and lets Richie kiss him into oblivion. “I’m so in love with you.”
“And I you.” Richie leans back in, capturing Eddie’s lips in his own, with every ounce of energy he has inside of him. There are stars behind his eyes and honestly, Richie never wants to leave the presence of Eddie’s arms.
imo I think it was brilliant to have jumped right to the end of Juuzou vs Kaneki.
While the art might’ve been really cool to lookat, I don’t think it wouldn’t have actually offered us anything story-wise. Hearing Kaneki sound so confident about his ability to protect everyone, followed by a page of him completely and utterly annihilated, was a fucking wallop. It’s force was immense. And I personally find that much more exciting to read than a redundant fight full of empty phrases that the fandom would inevitably pick apart when it all wouldn’t really mean anything.
Also, it was shown from Kaneki’s perspective. He blacked out while fighting, and that shock of regaining consciousness only to find himself so miserably defeated, literally shaking with panic and denial, would have been completely lost if Ishida dragged it on.
That terror of realizing he still wasn’t good enough to do the one thing that he promised to do– that once again he lost control and paid the price– and for the umpteenth time he’ll find nothing but pain and loss, not only for himself, but for the people he loves…
i was talking with @honervas and we got on the topic of lotor and his family. so here’s some classic wild mass guessing:
we know assume that lotor is the child of haggar and zarkon. but i’m not entirely sure how that would work? because haggar and zarkon have been ruling for ten thousand years. according to allura, it’s impossible for the galra to live that long
we later learn that due to overexposure to quintessence, both zarkon and haggar were able to extend their lives past what is natural. the indication of this overexposure is in their glowy eyes:
but lotor’s eyes aren’t glowy. they aren’t even a galra standard (solid yellow).
so from this, we could safely conclude that lotor hasn’t been exposed (or at least, overexposed) to pure quintessence. he’s just a typical half-galra trying to live his life.
but then, we see problems here. because haggar forgot about her life as honerva
and her life as zarkon’s wife. so reasonably, she and zarkon wouldn’t have had lotor during the 10,000 years of galra rule. because she wasn’t aware of her past relationship with zarkon. so reasonably, it could be that lotor was born before honerva died (and haggar was reborn).
but–lotor can’t be 10,000 years old. it’s biologically not possible.
so thinking back, i remembered:
lotor was in exile before he came back to rule.
where would a prince be exiled in an empire that spans the universe?
so here’s the WMG part: it’s possible that lotor was in cryosleep, possibly put in a sleeping pod around the same time as allura and coran, 10,000 years ago.
the only problem i have with this is that he’s been said to have conquered planets already. but that just means that he could have been taken out of cryosleep a while ago, whereas allura and coran were locked away because there was no one to find them.
my questions now, if this is true (and honestly i’m not seeing any other feasible reasoning for this), are: why was he put in cryosleep? and why was he taken out? why now?
maybe he was put in a sleeping chamber to avoid the war, or maybe he was put in the chamber as punishment, locked away in “exile” so he could do no harm? maybe he did something so bad (to his father, to the empire) that warranted his exile? and his punishment was cryosleep.
BigHit has said that BTS is acting with a false self in these highlight reels, as in they’re hiding their true selves because they are afraid people will not love them for who they really are.
This makes a lot of sense towards all of the members, but in specific Jin.
Jin is pretending that he is still alive, when he is really dead.
It’s been pretty much established in all of BTS’ HYYH music videos, Jin is the one who is dead. But I feel like for the longest while he has been having the hardest time coming to terms with this, because he doesn’t want to leave behind his brothers and he wishes he could do so many things over again, but better this time. He still has regrets (on his posters it says: If I could turn back time, I want to be the best man, If I could turn back time, I want to go back to that summer sea, he means turn back time to when he was alive).
The beginning of his dialogue in the third highlight reel is this: “Looking back I had known all along, that underneath the glimmering world before my eyes lay my deception, that everything was to collapse with a breath of wind, I turned away, sidestepped, simply closed my eyes. Afraid I was, afraid to be loved for who I am.”
This refers to all of the members, but in specific to Jin, he’s admitting that he knew all along that he was dead, but he chose to deny it, because no one could love him for who he is, he felt no one could truly love him if he isn’t alive, that they’d just forget about him
When Jin is driving, he looks as if he notices something in his rear view mirror
And if you notice during the scene (watch for proof), he’s in the same intersection where he was at the end of the video because of the blinking yellow lights reflecting off of his car and around him, like here
This is the same intersection (I’d watch the scene again for a clearer view)
Now I feel like all of Jin’s parts in this video were kind of out of order, because sometimes he was driving peacefully, but other times he looked distraught and in denial, driving recklessly
I think the parts where he was acting irrational, looking as if he’d seen something he didn’t want to was after he died. Jin died in that intersection, not the girl. He drives through the same intersection where the girl is hit and killed, when he looks back he doesn’t see her he sees himself
Jin most likely dies on his way to get the flowers. When he actually arrives by the truck, the girl isn’t even there waiting for him like he saw. Watch the scene again and look across the street, she isn’t there
I think the girl is meant to represent Jin, she is supposed to be the one who shows him his true self and what he actually is; dead. But Jin doesn’t know that yet, he’s still in denial and obtaining his false self
She suddenly appears out of nowhere then, she was never there before
The she runs across the street to him and gets hit, Jin’s own accident replays in front of his eyes and he knows this
This isn’t a face of shock, this a face of realisation and understanding. He just watched himself die, he is already dead. That’s why the scene is suddenly basked in an ominous purple, in some countries it is meant to represent death and mourning. Jin is dead.
He realizes this now, it’s no longer a dream, he is AWAKE
The lyrics in his song say:
I want to stay I want to dream a little more But still It is time to leave (It’s time for him to go to Heaven now that he knows he’s dead)
Jin died that night and finally realizes it. That’s why he was the only one with a date in the second highlight reel, because that was before he left his home to pick up the flowers, before he got hit by a car in the intersection
Funny word, don’t you think? The firm belief in the reliability, truth, ability, or strengths of someone or something.
One would still think that after months of being in a relationship with a respected and loving other, trust would’ve been conquered by now.
Unfortunately, not for them. Not for Harry.
Harry’s been in a relationship with Y/N for 9 months and a half now and to say they had grown pretty close to each other was really something else.
He adored spending his time with her, going out for dinner, waking up to her sleepy figure every day he was home, going out for a walk, or even just sitting or lying in comfortable silence with her. He absolutely loved sleeping cuddled up to her body when she’d stay the night and wake up to delicate kisses on his nose, and being greeted with a big and happy smile once he opened his eyes.
He was wholeheartedly and undoubtedly smitten with Y/N. He tells himself everyday that he has never met anyone like her — and he’s so sure of it. Harry has never admired anyone more than he does her. He’s never felt such intense feeling of respect and sincerity. So why can’t he trust her? He knows that from his past experiences in relationships or with his “friends” in general, the word ‘trust’ was empty to its meaning, for the people he actually trusted and put faith in, broke every promise made and took back every word once given to him. Of course not all of them were like that, but they were just the right amount to make him change his point of view on certain aspects of life.
After so many years of mistrust and back-stabbing from those who were supposed to love him and be there for him through every step of the way, Harry has unintentionally grown suspicious and doubtful to every situation and person he met. He didn’t mean to but who could blame him? He had gotten hurt so many times, he felt as though he had to do something about it, and, (un)fortunately — he really doesn’t know — he had. He’s changed. No, not to the degree no one would recognize him anymore. No. But his brain and his heart chose to keep a safe distant from the people that came into his life, so if they were to hurt him, it wouldn’t hurt as bad. Or at least, that’s what he thought.
To Harry’s dismay, Y/N wasn’t oblivious to any of it. She was catching up onto how Harry would always shut her out when he was upset, or how there were times he’d spend days off the radar without telling her anything that’d explain his absence.
Although Harry’s a smart kid, and rationally speaking he knows Y/N is too kind for the world to purposely harm him or anyone else, he just can’t bring his heart around it. His brain knows he can trust her. After all, she’s been nothing but reliable, good and kind to him. She never gave him any reasons to doubt her. However, his heart had been broken and deceived one too many times. He couldn’t possibly force himself to trust somebody. That’s not how things work and he knows it.
Y/N was becoming aware that Harry did not, by any means, trust her. At all. And it hurt a whole damn lot to know that the person you trust most doesn’t trust you back.
And she really did. Trusting him was as easy as the blink of an eye for her. Harry has always been kind and considerate towards her feelings, always respecting them. He never invalidated any of her emotions. Y/N was so delicate and precious to his eyes, he feared breaking her trust with every fiber in his body. He was well aware of the importance trust has and he also knew how much it meant to give someone else your trust.
Although she adores him dearly, she absolutely and utterly hates how he never shares his true self with her. Not that she thinks he’s fake, not at all. She knows he’s one of the most genuine person to ever set foot on earth. Metaphorically speaking, to her, he’s a big, vast ocean, in which both of them are floating in the surface of the water, instead of diving in and submerging in his true colors and seeing all the beautiful and the not-so-beautiful things too. And the best part? She wants to get to know exactly who he is deep inside. Harry has always fascinated and intrigued her in such way that not even she can explain it. She wants to get to know exactly how his heart looks like and know who hurt him this bad he refused to let you see him; through him. But Harry neglects her of every sort of emotional contact that goes deeper than his liking towards her, any form of contact with anything that’s within his heart deep down, whether they’re his insecurities, fears or even his sadness. Hell, she knows he’s not perfect —nobody is— and not for a second that’s what she expects from him.
Truth be told, not even Harry himself liked those deep and dark parts of himself, so why should he let anyone see it? It just didn’t make any sense to him. specially when so many people in his past have took advantage of his vulnerability and most fragile parts.
Sure he prophecies words of adoration to her, embraces her in loving hugs, kisses her oh so tenderly, to all which both of them enjoy very much. But that’s pretty much it. As much as he wish he did, Harry doesn’t trust her. He can’t. He really wishes he could because he knows she’s it for him, but he just can’t. He doesn’t wanna be let down and hurt again due to giving people his trust way too easily. And at this point, it’s not even something he voluntarily does, it’s just his new reality. He doesn’t mean to shut her out but he does. On the other hand, he knows Y/N would never even dream of doing anything like that on purpose to him. Frustration doesn’t even begin to describe how he feels about this whole situation, so he rather simply avoid facing it at all.
Only if he knew beforehand that this was definitely not the way to deal with this.
Y/N has caught up on to the fact that Harry has been in one of ‘those days’ again. Sometimes he’d stay at his flat the whole time, or even leave, heading somewhere else and be radio silent for a while, until he returned home.
It’s safe to say she was never one up for confrontation. Those types of things scared her to the point she’d feel the need to throw up or even open a hole on the ground and hide in there forever. But she knew she couldn’t do that. At least not when the matter of the subject was Harry and all of his ‘shutting her out’ behavior. Y/N wanted things to change but how? Could she even do it? She’s well aware she can’t go around changing people and their demeanor, but that’s not what she wanted to do either. She just wants Harry to open up to her and let her in, just like she had let him.
Y/N also knew she couldn’t just shoot questions at him either, since they’d only make him more anxious and possibly more closed off, if that was even possible. So she chose the best way—her best way, at least. She’d try to do it slowly and on his pace too, trying to coax small bits and bits out of him every chance she got, with the intention of showing him he could, in fact, trust her.
She didn’t want him to feel pressured or uncomfortable. But, she wonders what went wrong.
Y/N had driven to his house a couple hours ago and got herself in with the spare key Harry gave her a couple months ago.
Thinking about it now, she thinks it’s funny how he trusts her with his home, but not with her with her home — his heart. She’d rather Harry trust her with something as big and important as his feelings and emotions than with his spare key. Of course she’s also thankful for the key. She likes how it makes her feel closer to him; however, just not as close as she wished to be.
After what felt like hours, she finally heard his car being pulled up to the driveway and immediately paused the episode of The 100 she was currently watching.
Harry entered his house as quiet as ever, looking down and with slumped shoulders. Y/N’s heart immediately squeezed at the sight before her: her sweet love was upset, sad or even hurt and she couldn’t do a single thing about it.
She let out a “hi, H,” followed by quick strides in order to reach him. Once she was just a few inches away from him, Y/N embraces him in a tight hug and, to which he gladly complied to. He might not trust her with his feelings yet, but knowing she was there for him made him feel a whole lot better; even if she couldn’t see it. Her company, overall, was just very pleasing to him.
Harry often finds himself distracted from his own feelings whenever she was around. It’s not like it was her fault, just as it wasn’t his either. He thinks that’s the mechanism his brain has created so he doesn’t have to deal with his painful reality when times get hard for him. He knows that’s not the healthiest option nor that’s what he should and must do. Harry knows he should at least try to bring himself out of his distracted state and face his real feelings, his real demons. The only way he’ll get through this is by coming face to face with them—all of them. One can only run from their own selves for so long. He’s been bottling up his feelings all to himself, and only he knows how bad that is for him. Harry thinks that the perfect metaphor to explain himself is a balloon, in which each blow of air symbolized one of his darkest feelings he did not want to face. They’d keep filling the balloon until it exploded. And trust me, it got bad, really bad when he exploded like that.
“So, how was your day, handsome?”, Y/N asked sweetly, hoping he’d give her more of an answer then a simple “good” or “the usual”. Of course that’s exactly what she got. Usually, she would’ve stopped right there, but not today. Not when she knows fully and damn well he’s hurting and all she wants to do is help him and show him he can trust her with every fiber of his body. So she pressed, hesitantly, “H,” she waited for his attention to fully turn to her. “Can we talk?”
“Sure, love. What about?”, he asked sweetly.
“Um… It’s just- I’ve just been thinking that- um… well-“, she let out a nervous chuckle. She really did not know how to phrase it to him. “You don’t seem fine these past few days, and I just really wanted to help you, but I don’t really know how I’d do that…”, Y/N’s hands were sweaty and her arms were laying limply down her sides. “So I was wondering, maybe we could talk about whatever has been on your mind?? You’ve been quite upset lately, I can tell”.
Harry immediately tensed at her words. She wanted to talk to him. About his feelings. Nope. No. That just couldn’t be happening. Not now, not when he was doing a pretty good job at avoiding it.
“Love,” he started with a deep sigh, “there’s nothing to talk about. Promise”, he finished, hoping this conversation would drop there. And it surprisingly did. She didn’t push it any farther. Instead, Y/N took his hand with a slight nod of her head and lead Harry to their bedroom together, so they could call it a night.
She didn’t want to drop it but she was afraid of how he’d react if she pushed it. She wanted to give him time but she couldn’t bare to see him upset like that. She just couldn’t.
Harry was still upset and Y/N insisted on asking him every night if he wanted to talk to her, as well as wondering if he was okay, in hopes that he’d eventually say yes to her. At first, he was very appreciative and kind with her effort. He said thank you, soon following with a tight hug, showing her how much he treasured her endeavor. But as it became more frequent, he was getting quite annoyed, to say the least.
Why couldn’t she just stop asking him all of that? It was clear he didn’t want to talk about it, so why did she press on it? Why couldn’t she pretend he wasn’t upset just like he did? Harry wanted to appreciate her efforts again, but in all honesty, he was sick of it; sick of saying he was fine when he clearly wasn’t, sick of shutting her out. He wanted his feelings to be left alone, although he didn’t want to be alone.
Since the day she first asked him, whenever he came home to his place or hers, she’d always repeat those words and he really didn’t mean to but he was getting quite angry about it. He even began to act a bit colder and more distant from her, but not to the point it was that obvious.
It was just a day like any other, except he was upset again. Y/N’s heart slightly crushed again at the fact he might’ve been hurt or harmed and there was nothing she could do. It was a feeling that was growing quite frequent to her, but she didn’t want to get used to it. She really wanted to be there for him, but it almost felt like he didn’t want her there. She tried to ignore those thoughts, for they’d only bring her down and perhaps make her stop her efforts.
Y/N felt such tenderness and endearment for Harry. She really did. She just wanted to see him happy, smiling that big, gorgeous smile of his and she knew that wasn’t really their reality at the moment.
By this point, Y/N really didn’t know if she was doing it the right way. Was she pressuring him? Did she make him feel like she was trying to force it out of him? She really hoped the answer to both of these were no. But she couldn’t know; she was desperate by now. Desperate to help him; to have his trust.
“Hi, Harry,” she greeted him with a smile once he entered her small apartment. “How was your day?”, she asked him placing a kiss on his lips.
“Okay, I guess,” he dryly replied with a shrug and walked past her, heading for the kitchen.
“So,” she starts, trying to ignore the bitter tone to his words. “You sure you’re okay?”, she asked, leaning her body against the door frame, intently watching Harry gulp down a glass of water.
Harry put his cup down and shot her a glare, “I said I’m okay”, he answered harshly, not giving her a second look as he left the kitchen and sat on the couch.
Tonight was Friday, meaning that it was their movie night. Usually, they’d watch movies all cuddled up to each other, eating take out for dinner and just enjoying each other’s company. Not today though. He sat on the far end of the couch and when she came to sit next to him, he immediately lied down, stretching out his body, so that the space she once thought of occupying was now unavailable. She sighed at his behavior and sat as close to him as possible, right where his feet met her thighs, only to have him shrunk a little, enough to make his touch leave her skin.
And like that they stayed until half-way through the movie. At this point, the movie playing on the screen was long forgotten as she couldn’t stop thinking about how he was acting and this whole ‘trust’ situation. Before she could stop herself, Y/N felt the urge to ask him again, hoping he’d open up. Again. After all, hope is the last to die, right?
thanks for reading it! let me know if anyone wants a part 2 to this x