#KNEES WEAK ARMS SPAGHETTI or however it goes??

[moonbounds]

lowkey died and then “Sleeping Next To Your Alpha Werewolf” drops and the butterflies send enough electricity through my body to keep me kicking for a thousand lifetimes and harness the power of Thor

[oh-my-may]

Sakusa, Tsukishima and Kenma when their s/o gets a wound

requested: sakusa, tsukki, and kenma with a s/o who gets a wound? maybe they went to do an activity and get their knees scraped bad and the boys find out? how would they take care of their s/o?

Sakusa was such a good pick for this oh my that’s probably why his is a bit longer please forgive me I am weak for him ok

Sakusa Kiyoomi:

There were not a lot of things you could do as dates, since Sakusa declined most of your suggestions saying that it would be too unhygienic or too much work making sure everything would be clean.

But when you came up with the idea of going wandering on a mountain trail, where only mostly elderly people where, he was all for it. Of course he also didn’t liek staying insiode all the time, and a place where anybody went while being in nature sounded like music to his ears.

However you regretted your decision soon after you guys started your trip. You were breathing heavily and your legs already felt like spaghetti and you werent even halfway up the hill. Sakusa however, with his amazing sports stamina was walking ahead and barely notived that you fell way behind, until he wanted to talk to you and you didn’t respond to his words. He turned around wondering where you were. Did you maybe get lost? But then he saw you hanging over, your hands placed on your knees and you looked up to him smiling, but you couldn’t hide the exhaustion.

Your boyfriend couldn’t help but chuckle seeing you like that. He walks to you and stops in front of you, tilting his head while he observes your heaving figure. “You know, we can just return if you want to. But the air up here is really good and I guess it’s even better at the top.” You just shake your head, insisting on continuing this trip because it hasn’t been often that you saw Kiyoomi this careless. You were determined to make this an enjoyable trip for the both of you, but especially him. He deserved a pause from his hectic life.

So he grabs your hand and walks slowly beside you for a while, both of you enjoying the nature around you and the fresh air sweeping through your lungs. When you’re finally at the top you have a nice picnic while enjoing the view over the land, watching leaves dance in the wind and tumbling around you, taking in all the scents of exotic flowers and birds chirping somewhere in the tree tops.

You feel a lot better when you get back down. Walking down on a mountain is a lot less exhausting than walking up, after all. Your steps fly more easily. Too easily. You’re more careless with your steps and before you can stop it you stumble over a big rock in your way, landing on your knees before Sakusa can grab your wrist. However he’s quick to help you up again and you flinch and hiss when you shift your weight on your left leg again. Your knee is totally scraped, a small rill of blood running down your leg. Some small stones still stick to your skin and Sakusa is quick to pull out a small package from his backpack, because this man never goes anywhere unprepared.

He helps you sit down on a tree trunk next to the path you were walking and he looks at you with slight amusement but also worry in his eyes. He sighs before leaning down and placing a kiss on the top of your head and then kneels down in front of you, taking care of the wound. “What am I gonna do with you? You’re so clumsy...” he mumbles and you have to smile, though your knee still burns badly. Sakusa takes care of it perfectly, even kissing the bandage on top of your knee after he’s done. However, he doesn’t let you walk down again, he carries you down all the way on his back and you’re not complaining.

You just cling onto him and cuddle into his back, burying your face in his neck and stroking his hair occassionally, thanking him for taking care of you so well. He smiles to himself when he feels you pressing to him, feeling your breath so close on his skin.

After the trip he still checks up on your knee everyday, even when it’s not a wound that serious. He still claims that it shouldn’t get infected and that he’s the only one besides a doctor that can take proper care of it. Always kisses your knee after every check up! A true cariing cutie, I am way too soft for this man

Tsukishima Kei:

It was hard to get Tsukishima thrilled of the idea of going somewhere special to hang out. He was more of the stay inside kinda person, preferring just cuddling up to you in private.

You accepted his choices (even though you still got him to go to certain places sometimes) and that’s how you transformed everyday situations into little dates. Like lunch in school or staying in your garden instead of in the house, sometimes you’d even join his practice and watch him there. Even though he would never admit it, he enjoyed it when you do that. It always makes his insides all giddy and warm because you care for him so much!

You also always walk home together, talking about anything on your way or just quietly listening to music while enjoying each other’s company, silently holding or hands or sometimes he’ll just sling an arm around your shoulders and pull you close to him, walking like that for a while.

Today however you were “balancing” on a wall next to the sidewalk while talking to Kei and rambling about your day. It was fun to you focusing on taking the right steps, even though the platform you were walking on was not that small. You still had to be careful about where you placed your feet, because there were roots and other plants growing over and through the stone. “Ugh anyway, and then our teacher just made us write a test, and it was fine I guess but still sucked.” you ended your little rant.

“Y/N, are you really sure you should walk up there? Don’t you think it would be safer down here? You’re gonna get hurt if you don’t look out.” Tsukki just says while looking up to you with a vague face. You almost laughed seeing him like that. Was he actually worrying about you? Contrary to you always worrying about him at games, this was a nice change.

“Don’t be silly Kei, I’ve been balancing on things since I was a child, literally nothing will happen-” And that’s when you literally cursed yourself, because just moment later you stumble over a root and fall down, though you manage to cushion your fall with your hands which got the most damage.

Your boyfriend is right next to you in no time, helping you up and scanning your body for any injuries, but luckily only your hands got injured and your elbow felt weird, making your whole arm feel like some sort of pudding. Tsukki is just shaking his head while taking in the scrapes and cuts on your hands. You flinch when he softly touches your strained skin and he looks at you with disapproval. His eyes literally tell you “I told you so.” but fortunately he has enough tactfulness to not say it out loud. He accompanies you to your house, constantly shaking his head when you whimper and pout because your hands hurt.

He reluctantly helps you clean your hands, because he claims he’s not good with that kind of stuff and he only helps you bandage the wound because you don’t want to move your hands too much. Quiet sounds of disapproval still leave his lips as he does, though. Something like that could never happen to him, he says. Still, the look in his eyes is loving. He appreciates your playful side a lot. Without it, his life would be pretty plain. Without YOU it would be.

He loves you, but please prepare for a bunch of teasing after the incident. He will never let you climb on something or balance somewhere every again for a long time because honestly? He cares about you a little too much and he can’t bear to see you hurt in any way.

Kenma Kozume:

Kenma always seemed to be busy with some things. In the morning it was school, in the afternoon volleyball practice and in the evening and at night he was usually gaming.

You tried you best to insert yourself into his routine. Walk to school with him, spend the breaks at school with him, game with him, watch him at practice. You were fine with it, really, because you noticed how over the time he got more cooperative and sometimes skipped volleyball practice to hang out with you, or he was starting to game a bit less in order to go to the cinema with you etc.

But you still treasured the time the most when you could hang with him normally, like at practice. You could actually spend hours watching him do something else other than hanging over his console.

And the other members loved you, too. They appreciated you being at practice, it was like having another manager. You also took care of them and told them everything you observed, you brought snacks and cheered for them in any game. Sometimes you’d even join in during training camps and get along with other teams, as well.

You normally used your time during practice to do homework or work on other things, but today you helped out as the “ballboy/girl” basically and ran around the gym catching the flying volleyballs and collecting them for the boys. You’d throw them back to them or helped them to serve the ball, but you were always just moving around the whole time. You didn’t mind, though. It was actually very fun, the boys were constantly joking around. But Kenma didn’t look all that amused whenever a ball just closely missed you or when you almost fell in an attempt to catch a ball.

You watched as him and Yaku were talking to Lev and teaching him how to do a proper serve. The first year was listening eagerly, moving his hands and arms around enthusiastically and you found yourself grinning when Kenma moved his hands over his face in frustration.

Then it finally came to Lev putting all the tips into something and he was standing at the end of the field, ready to serve. You watched him fail a few times until he hit the ball with a loud bang and slammed it over the net, right to where you were standing. No one had enough time to react properly and before you could even think about diodging the ball landed straight on your chest and you fell backwards, hitting your head on the floor hard. For a moment you couldn’t see or hear anything, just darkness and dancing light in front of your eyes and a defeaning beeping in your ears.

Someone helped you to sit up and you slowly began to see contours of people around you, and their voices were still incomprehendable to you. You felt hands on your back and then on your face and you looked into your boyfriends face who had widened eyes and looked very pale.

Then he turned around and basically chased Lev through hell for doing this, giving him the lecture of his life even though you weren’t hurt that badly. there was a small wound at the back of your head and just a little bit of blood came out.

Kenma was by your side the whole time, flinching a lot more than you when you got a bandage around your head. You got some medication from the doctor and while you were tripping a little bit he still stayed at your side, giving you his console so you can play and distract yourself from ther pain

Literally really won’t leave your side, will stay at your house until you can go to school again and he just spends the days next to you in your bed, pouting when he sees the wound and carefully stroking your hair. He’s a big cuddler during this time and literally won’t led you near the gym anytime soon. He always gives Lev death stares when he gets near you, like a hissing cat.

A protective boy, 11/10 would love and cherish

[bitchapalooza]

Who are the dumbasses in this au? (High school au)

Spain, Denmark, Prussia, and America.

Antonio constantly gets on top of the court yard tables and whatever admin is out there that day always threatens him with in school suspension to get down. So far there has been 5 incidences of him breaking the table umbrella and falling in the school garden after trying to run away from someone who wasn't even chasing him. He'll also have his bluetooth speaker clipped to his back pack and in the crowded halls he'd play the Rescue Pets song to see how many would sing along that day. More chaotic than dumbass according to his friends, but very much a dumbass to the school staff.

Mikkel walks into school every day with very clear uniform violations; shirt isnt even navy blue or white nor is it a polo, his pants are khaki but... They have holes in it. He wont take off his hat either. His school ID is not around his neck but its useless because he scratched his face out anyway. When he's told to go change or else theyre calling his parents, he blanks out and is like "we have a uniform????" HE'S BEEN THERE FOR 3 YEARS ALREADY, BUDDY GET IT TOGETHER! He's just that kid that clearly sniffed way too many dry erase markers.

Gilbert is considered more of a teacher's pet because of how on top of it he is with his studies and homework, HOWEVER, he does have his dumbass moments. Such as when he skipped class and clogged a toilet in the senior hall boy's bathroom with stale blueberry muffins he left in the locker he forgot about from the beginning of the school year. It floods like a quarter of the bathroom. He's freaking the fuck out. He goes to the nearest class and, in a panicked manner, tells the teacher "I fucked up! I FUCKED UP!" the teacher rushes into the bathroom and. Stands there. Expecting a fire or someone laying unconscious on the floor. Not. Not bits of muffin and plastic wrappers floating in toilet water. Janitor is called, teacher laughs, and Gilbert is sent to in school suspension for skipping class. Not clogging the toilet. Teacher was not worried about punishing him for that. He just wants to know what the fuck was going on inside his head to flush muffins down a toilet.

Alfred just. Is that dumbass freshman. He didn't like the fat dry erase markers because they were awkward to hold so he always brought his own. So he got out his marker to show his work for the math problem on the smart board. But it was a fucking sharpie. "Knees weak, mom's spaghetti" would not come off his class set dry erase board so the teacher had to toss it; He thought he could slide down the hand rail on the smaller back staircase he and his friends hung out around. He broke his arm. Then tried to do it again after he got his cast off as he was convinced he could do it better this time; During the individual mile run, he decided it was a good idea to say hello the geese by running at them at top speed and. Well you know what happens with geese and provoking them. He ran the other direction and fell into the questionably clean pond; He thought detention was fucking optional.

[andaleduardo]

Rooftop N.13

Ao3   N.12 

Read on ao3

Preview:   “Do you regret what you did?”

Does he?

No, Eddie didn’t regret pulling Richie back in. He regretted giving in to his overwhelming fear, pushing him away and telling him to leave.

  Saturday 29.05.1993

  Richie took a look around the small balcony in the back of Mike’s barn while Eddie finished climbing the last steps of the unstable ladder. He was tempted to bend down and touch the floor just to make sure it wasn’t shaking, that it was only himself who was. But instead, he took a deep breath and turned around just in time to see Eddie bang his head on the wooden frame of the passage way.

Richie gasped in shock while Eddie cursed under his breath and lifted both hands to his forehead. Once Richie saw that no damage was done, he had to bite down on his lip to keep himself from laughing.

“Shit. You okay?” He decided against coming closer.

“I’m fine.” Eddie dropped his hands and avoided eye contact while folding both arms around his mid-section. “I’m sure you want to joke about all of this, anyway.” He nodded towards the space.

“Not at all.” In a regular situation, he supposed he would have teased Eddie for going through the trouble of being alone with him up here, where the air felt colder yet welcoming and the noise from the party diminished slightly. But nothing about this situation seemed common, so Richie shot him a quick, reassuring smile and offered a shrug. “I suppose… we’re here to talk?” He cursed the wavering tone of his voice.

It sounded like a question but it wasn’t one, Eddie noticed. He shivered at the thought of actually trying to explain himself. In his head, he had played around with the possibility of a pre-made speech, but he figured that this was the only time in his life where he might want to be as see-through as possible, and that meant being unprepared. So, here he was, unsure of what to do next.

With a helpless sigh, Eddie ducked his head down in defeat.

For a brief moment, Richie watched him study his shoes and play with his sweaty hands. He still wanted to hold them tightly, especially now. Watching Eddie struggle was painful and Richie wanted to end his friend’s embarrassment, he just didn’t know how. At last, he thought he should look away and give Eddie some space. He didn’t want to seem demanding or expectant, so he sat down at the edge of balcony and let his legs hang in the air.

Eddie stared at the back of Richie’s head. Once more, Richie just proved himself to be a great friend. Eddie could only think of how much he deserved to know that. But things worked differently for Eddie Kaspbrak: he had an infinity of things to tell people, yet, he bottled them down, one after another. Inevitably, he would explode one day and say horrible things to the people he loved most. That’s what his life is about, a constant cycle of repressed emotions, thoughts and energy.

It was in that instant that some courage grew inside him. If he couldn’t talk about the things he wanted, maybe he could try and explain that as a starting point.

With one last deep breath, Eddie let his arms drop to his sides and started to talk to the back of Richie’s head. “That’s the thing-” He cut his line of thought, deciding to first sit down by Richie’s side, leaving a small distance between them. Then, he kept going.

“I have a lot of things to talk about, but I… never do.” Richie’s attentive gaze burned holes on the side of his face, making his cheeks burn up from the attention. He had to push through.

“And I want to, like, a lot. I think I’d feel a lot better if I just, said things… But no matter how much I try, the only audience I get is myself.” Without realizing, Eddie tossed his head back to stare up at the dark sky. “And I’m so sick of hearing it. Hearing all the things I have to say, Rich. I say them constantly, you know? I scream them all the time, I obsess over every little thing I need to say to someone, but nothing ever goes further than my skull. I go crazy with it, too. I can pretend nothing’s there if I’m busy, if I’m with you guys, or so. But all the things are still there, as if they could hide from everyone except me.”

Once he finished, Eddie sighed shakily and looked down to his lap.

It was a lot to take in. Richie couldn’t properly make out what to say, which was a lot on its own. A lot of different responses crossed his mind, but in the end, he empathized with what Eddie said, a whole lot. So, his words filled the silence in a soft, caring way.

“I think I know what you mean.”

To his surprise, Eddie shrugged. As if he didn’t quite believe him but, at the same time, that didn’t affect him. It was, in fact, upsetting. But it’s not like he could expect anyone to get it, not even the person he wished would get it the most.

“No, really.” Richie insisted. “Okay, I know I talk a lot, believe me. But I only ever say the wrong things, you know?” And to prove his point, Richie wasn’t sure if he said something he shouldn’t, but he didn’t fail to see Eddie’s expression fall.

“Did you say the wrong thing on Monday?” The words escaped Eddie’s lips before he had a chance to think them through. Clearly, a mistake that had him flinching in shame.

“It’s okay, you can ask me anything.” Richie’s spoke carefully, voice coated in lightness. They cut right through Eddie’s self-doubt, making the boy shyly nod in acceptance. Richie took some time to ponder his answer.

“I didn’t say a single thing I had planned.” Richie ended up explaining, eyes fixed on his knees. “Everything sort of went the wrong way, I regret not telling you what I had to tell.”

Eddie stayed quiet; brave enough to look at Richie, who copied his actions on instinct. They found themselves staring into each other’s eyes for the first time since they were alone. Eddie’s breath faltered at the same time as Richie’s eyelids trembled, and the moment felt so right that Eddie didn’t hesitate speaking the words that were begging to drip from his lips.

“Do you regret what you did?”

Richie seemed instantly taken aback, shaking his head as soon as he processed the question. “Nuh uh.” He stated, licking his lips anxiously. “Do you…?”

Does he?

No, Eddie didn’t regret pulling Richie back in. He regretted giving in to his overwhelming fear, pushing him away and telling him to leave.

Eddie broke eye contact. At this moment, he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t say anything, he could only choke on the hope of being able to do so. His skin boiled with shy heat and his cheeks were so warm that they could melt right off. He knew he must look beat red, but he still shook his head as an answer and kicked his embarrassment in the butt.

Richie was glad Eddie wasn’t looking at him because he did the worst job at hiding his smile, even wiping the corners of his mouth down and clicking his tongue. To top it off, his voice sounded hyper and weird like it usually does when he talks through a crooked grin. “So, what was your dinner yesterday?”

Eddie snapped his head up and stared at Richie with big, questioning eyes. “What?” He chuckled.

Richie smiled, shrugged. “Let’s make this easier. We ask each other questions, that way we give answers, not explanations.”

Eventually, Eddie understood and shook his head weakly. “You really don’t have to…”

“Oh but I wanna.” Richie clapped his hands together. “C’mon don’t keep me on the edge of my seat, Eds. I’m dying to know what your momma cooked for you last night.”

Eddie bit his lip reluctantly while searching Richie’s face for a sign that would tell him this was just a joke to him, but he found none. “You know…just cardboard meals. Also, don’t call me that.”

“Ah, yes. The delightfulness of premade mashed potatoes and frozen hamburgers,” The playfulness in Richie’s tone brought Eddie some sense of reality. No matter what, their friendship is real. “It’s your turn, Spaghetti. Do your worst, I can take it.”

Cursing the dumb nickname under his breath, Eddie got to thinking. He knew that things would escalate from then on, so he opted for light hearted questions as a start in hopes that the tension between them (or just in him) would subdue.

“Alright, uh,” Eddie looked mindlessly around until his eyes landed on Richie’s slim ankles covered by the fabric of his jeans. “What’s the colour of your socks?” He expected an immediate laugh from Richie’s part, however, the boy looked like he was ready to answer his question as if they were talking business.

“Oh you ain’t ready for this, mister.” Richie placed both hands over his kneecaps and raised both feet higher in the air. Abruptly, he buried all fingers on his jeans and pulled the fabric up. It only went as far as two inches, but Eddie was greeted with mismatched colours and patterns. One sock was purple plaid, the other was solid dark red.

“That’s dangerous.” Eddie stated with a smirk.

“You know me.” With a chuckle, Richie bent to fix the cuffs of his jeans. “My turn now.”

They went off like this for some time, asking each other stupid, pointless questions and snickering answers back. They were having fun, even though Eddie’s stomach leaped every time it was Richie’s turn. He kept expecting real questions, the ones that mattered, but each time he was delivered something light and funny. After some time, Eddie began to realise that Richie was waiting for him to ask something deeper first, he was waiting for the green light from Eddie’s part. He just had to figure out the best way to make the transition from careless to serious in their friendly interaction, but it seemed like there wasn’t any good way to do that.

That’s why, after ten minutes of swinging legs and voice impressions, Eddie introduced a short silence that made Richie’s legs stop and all laughter die down.

“Hm… Please don’t be offended,” Eddie’s voice felt weak coming out of his mouth, but in the moment, it was simultaneously deafening. “I just need to know if you drank tonight.”

Richie shook his head, hair bouncing. “Only the cheap tutti frutti juice.”

Eddie nodded. “Me too.” Then, he couldn’t help but chuckle. “Not that I usually drink but... forget it.” He stopped talking when it seemed like Richie found something to say.

“I’ve asked you this before.” Richie licked his lips and studied his knuckles. “About when you get all dizzy and stuff. You said you didn’t know what it is but-”

“It’s about anxiety.” Eddie gushed out. Richie waited for him to continue. “Uh, it happens if I’ve been extra antsy for like days or weeks. I suppose it’s because I don’t sleep too well those nights, and it’s like I’m physically and emotionally tired all the time.” The words rushed out of him in a big continuous wave. “It probably doesn’t make sense.”

He expected a bigger reaction than what he got, probably with another string of questions attached, but all Richie said was

“Alright.” With a nod, and then “Your turn.”

It surprised him at first that he didn’t want to push the subject further, but it made him grateful for it at the same time. Richie could have gone for worse questions, but he gave him an easier start with something they had talked about before. Just like that, Eddie got to thinking about a good question when a sudden memory of a recent event was enough to captivate his attention. He couldn’t help it, he had to ask it.

“Remember when we played that game at Bill’s house? Last month?”

“Paranoia?” Richie wondered out loud. A second later he seemed to understand where this was going, but he acted nonchalant. “Sure, why?”

“Well,” Eddie begun. “What was the question that Bev had for you?”

“She had a lot of questions for me that day.”

“You know which one. Don’t play dumb.” Eddie pushed weekly on Richie’s shoulder with his fingers.

“Alright, alright. But just so you know,” Richie lifted both hands in surrender. “I wanted to mess with you, I would answer your name no matter what she asked me that turn.”

Taken aback by the sincerity, Eddie didn’t say anything, curious and a little angry that Richie implied it was nothing but a joke.

“But she did, in fact, ask me who I’d rather see in fishnets and I mean, I guess I didn’t lie-” Before Richie could finish, Eddie was smacking his shoulder again in the same spot, with a greater amount of force.

“You’re such an idiot, Richie, I swear. Why would you even do that just to mess with me?”

“I thought it was obvious by now.” Richie said, helpless. One of Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. “I wanted you to read into it, I dunno, think about it after…” With that statement, Eddie’s cheeks turned crimson with the thought of what he did as soon as he got home after the game that day. “And something tells me it worked.” This time, Richie’s own eyebrows danced up and down.

“Fuck off, you wish.” Eddie huffed back angrily. “And go on, it’s your turn.”

“Okay,” Richie recovered easily. “Did it work? Did you think about it later?”

“Are you fucking serious?” Eddie groaned and fought against a smile at the same time. “You seem pretty eager to know that.”

“You can’t embarrass me by that, Eds. We both know that I am.”

“Okay, so, maybe it worked. Happy?”

“Very much so.” Richie said with a teasing smirk.

The lightweight energy that took over the moment settled on a weirdly serious silence that Eddie had to break, eventually.

“I don’t know what else to ask you.” He admitted, all the fire gone from his voice. “I messed up. I should be the one talking but I’m scared.”

Bending his neck down a little, Richie inquired softly. “Yeah?” Eddie nodded. “Of what?”

“I don’t know.” He ended up spitting out, restless. “I don’t fucking know, I’m such a coward.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Richie’s face turned sour. When he was about to protest, Eddie stopped him with an avalanche of bravery, mostly exhaustion.

“ You know what? I’m going to ramble and start by saying that I’m sorry, I really am. I never let you speak and I made us fight ‘cause I was so scared that you were going to ask me for space, that we’re too close. I mean I wouldn’t blame you, I kept embarrassing myself in front of you and made everything awkward so, like, I’d totally understand if you wanted me to back off.

“And I would! I swear I would but I didn’t want to lose you so I tried my best to keep you quiet that night but then everything went wrong and then you- you,”

“I kissed you?” Richie offered, dumbfounded by everything Eddie was saying.

“Yeah!, you did that.. And for a moment I thought, shit what have I been scared about, you know? But then you start crying and I felt like the worst person in the world, making my best friend cry and screaming at him. So, I had to show you that I care about you, Richie. I do, so much and I forgot for a moment that I never kissed anyone so I didn’t even know what to do but in that moment I just wanted to get you closer.

“I’m sorry if I sucked at it.., but in that moment I thought that we were fine, everything would be okay.” Pausing abruptly to catch his breath, Eddie noticed that his eyes were cloudy with tears, but he couldn’t bring himself to fight them away.

Meanwhile, Richie watched him, troubled, worried and fascinated at the same time. When he parted his lips to gently tell Eddie to breathe and calm down for a little, Eddie lifted up both hands and begged him

“Please let me do this before I start regretting it.” And all Richie did was nod frenetically. So, Eddie started off again, and this time his voice came out ragged from the knot in his throat. Despite that, Richie sat still and watched as some lonely tears rolled down Eddie’s cheeks.

“I saw the leper, Richie.” He combusted.

All the air left Richie’s lungs, as if his chest had just gotten punched.

“I heard It, too.” Eddie kept going. “I felt It touch me on the back of my neck while It said those horrible, sick things that It did when I first saw It. I hadn’t thought about that gross, decayed thing in years, Richie, years. And you know what’s fucked up? I couldn’t remember anything afterwards.” At this point, Eddie’s body was facing Richie’s. His face closer, damp, scared and begging for understanding in Richie’s caring eyes.

“I couldn’t remember it…” Eddie shook his head in disbelief as if he was talking to himself only. “Its face, its words… how can someone forget that?” Richie’s eyes lingered on Eddie’s throat as the boy gulped down on nothing. “All I knew is that I felt sick, my skin was wrong and I wanted to tear it off because the only thing that never left me was its touch. Something terribly wrong touched me, or so I believed, that’s why I had to push you away, Richie. I had.”

Richie took notice that his own vision was watery. He blinked repeatedly and opened up his arms to a devastated Eddie, just to show him that he would hold him if he let him. Not a second after, Eddie gave in, hitting Richie’s chest as he fell on the welcoming embrace. Not a second later, he heard Richie’s unused voice whispering

“I understand, Eds. It’s okay.”

The tears had stopped but Eddie’s frame insisted on trembling. After finally being able to say some of the things he wanted, his ribcage seemed big, free and so light that he would have said it was empty if it weren’t for his quick heartbeat. “I’m so sorry.” He added.

“I’m sorry, too. That you had to deal with this alone.” They drowned in the quiet (white noise from the party aside) until Eddie got his breathing back under control. Then, Richie cut in with a new observation. “Being alone on top of buildings seems to be our thing.”

Richie couldn’t see Eddie’s smile from their position, but he felt him nod. Not a second later, Eddie’s body started shaking uncontrollably and Richie’s first thought was that he was sobbing. But then, he giggled. Eddie was laughing.

“What’s so funny, mister?” He asked, surprised. Eddie tried to contain his chuckles, rolling away from Richie’s grasp with a fake serious expression.

“Nothing.” He shook his head just before breaking into a smile. “It’s just that you’re a cliché douchebag, you know that?”

“I’m a what?” Richie’s eyes turned big under his glasses, he sported a confused little smile on his lips.

“You heard me.” Eddie said enthusiastically, his eyelashes still glued together. He lifted up one hand to count the examples with his fingers. “You runaway at night to come in through my window. Stargazing. Song writing. Getting a band together. Throwing high school parties and playing. You get high, that’s bad boy cliché, too.”

Richie chuckled along with Eddie’s list, but with the next and last item, he grew conflicted.

Eddie held up one last finger “And then you give me that ‘Find yourself, speech.’” And lowered his hand to his lap.

 “I don’t even know what I meant by that.” Richie admitted.

“If you don’t know, I for sure don’t, either…But I’m glad you said it, I tried my best.”

Richie looked at him fondly. “Wanna share?”

A very blushy Eddie looked back into Richie’s eyes and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Ah, well… i-it was just a stupid, long week until I could admit that I-” He stopped abruptly, once again reminded that there were people close by. People with hearing capacities. In an act of weakness, he looked around to study the distance between them and everyone out on Mike’s lawn. He grew angrier with himself just as fast. Eddie couldn’t give three steps backwards again, no way. So, he turned to face Richie and whispered.

“I’m gay.” And just like that he was powerless, imagining all the horrible reactions Richie would, certainly, have. How grossed out he obviously would be.

But this was Richie. The Richie that broke into a huge, toothy grin and got pink painted freckled cheeks instantly. The Richie that stage whispered through a genuine smile. “I’m proud.” And the Richie that leaned forward and hugged Eddie with all the strength in the world; the Richie that spoke directly into his ear, making him shiver. “Of you.”

The butterflies in Eddie’s stomach made him vibrate with adrenaline as he hugged Richie back, letting go of all the air trapped in his lungs and feeling his eyes sting. A smile took over his face as he proved his point one more time. “Cliché.” Then, surprising even himself, he burst out in laughs again.

Much to Eddie’s dislike, Richie pulled away and elbowed his side. “Sure, make fun of me as much as you want, but you still fell for me so how cliché does that make you?”

Eddie stopped laughing immediately and dragged both hands over his heated face. “God, Richie. Shut up.” The words came out hushed through his palms.

In a string of ‘Cute, cute, cute’s’, Richie tackled Eddie until both of them were laying down on the old, chipping wood. Richie’s arms circled the smaller boy’s waist, his face hidden under Eddie’s chin. “Fuck. You’re so cute.” He groaned.

“If I get splinters all over my hair I’m going to strangle y-”

“I’m in love with you, you know?” Eddie’s breath hitched. He craned his neck and found Richie looking up at him. “That’s what I was going to tell you that night. Not that I wanted space. Not that you needed to back away.” Eddie’s big, nervous eyes stared back at him. “You don’t need to say anything.”

Eddie let his head fall down to the wood and stared at the dark sky. He felt Richie tuck his head under his chin again, messy curls tickling his neck. He didn’t know what to say or do, so he settled for wrapping both arms around Richie, squeezing him tight in a nervous act. “I’ve never done any of this before.” He heard an unfamiliar voice coming out of his mouth, breaking every two words and making him sound just as embarrassing as he felt. “It’s stupid, but I’m worried that anything I do or say will be wrong and you’ll see that I’m really bad at this.”

“You think too much.” Richie said. “I’m not here to judge you, Eds. And who says I’m any better at this than you are?”

“You’ve had girlfriends.” Eddie offered.

“I did?” He chuckled. “I’ve kissed a few mouths, made out here and there. That doesn’t make me better than you.”

“It makes you better at it than me.” Sighing loudly, Eddie tried to explain himself. “I told you, I know it’s stupid, but that’s how my logic goes.”

“Okay. Maybe that’s true, but it doesn’t mean I’ll be sitting there rating your kisses from 1 to 10 while you drool all over my chin.” He got a slap on the arm for that one.

“Why do you have to make everything gross?” But then, “Shit, will that happen? Oh my god, it will totally happen! If I spit all over your face how can I even keep living with myse-” Richie’s hand came down onto his mouth, sealing it shut and interrupting the nervous talk.

After that, there was nothing left for Eddie to do than to relax under the half of Richie’s body that was laying on him. He was positive that his eyes were heart-shaped in that moment, but so were Richie’s, for what he could tell. One of his hands came up to rest gently on top of Richie’s, still covering his mouth and he tried his best to say coherent words. “I’m nwuv w’dyou, too.”

First, he saw Richie squinting, as if that would help him make sense of what he heard. Secondly, he thought Richie had deciphered it, if the way he beamed meant anything. But lastly, Richie didn’t say anything, so Eddie figured there was a chance he didn’t understand, after all. That’s why he began to carefully peel Richie’s hand away from his mouth, so he could say it again even if he’d rather not, honestly. He had accomplished a lot tonight, but saying ‘I’m in love with you, too’ twice might be stretching it a little.

Luckily, he didn’t need to repeat himself.

“I heard you.” Richie squeaked. “You mean it?”

Eddie nodded. “I do.”

He was transparently overwhelmed and insecure, thus Richie attempted to remind him that they weren’t about to become strangers after this. “You know,” Their hands were still touching, so he took the opportunity to intertwine their fingers. “You’ll never get rid of me now, I’m your personal koala.”

Eddie giggled, some tension waving off of him. “A koala? Is that all you’ll be?” Definitely a brave statement that Richie didn’t see coming.

“I can be more.”

“More is good.” Eddie murmured quietly, carefully. He observed Richie’s hair move with the night’s breeze, hypnotized by the way certain strands would always bounce back into place. When he casted his eyes lower he realized Richie was looking directly at his mouth, which made his heart skip a beat and his blood way too hot. “Maybe, uh, maybe we could go somewhere else?” He offered, already pushing Richie away from him gently and sitting up. “Somewhere less crowded.”

 They ignored the pointed stares of their friends when they made their way back inside the barn, or at least Eddie did, with that cute frown and blush on his face. Richie, otherwise, locked eyes with Bev and made a show of grabbing his chest as if he’d been hit, his face mimicking someone thanking the skies above. From her corner near the snacks’ table, she started bouncing up and down on her feet from excitement, mouthing ‘Shut the fuck up, really?!’ to which Richie responded with his own little enthusiastic jump, almost bumping into Eddie’s back. Could you blame him for wanting to share the best news of his life with the only person he confined this secret with? Right before passing through the entryway, he shot Bev finger guns and a wink.

Eddie walked a little ahead of him, Richie didn’t blame him for it. They ended up walking side by side as soon as they were at a good distance from the farm, now making their way to Richie’s house.

Eddie took that time to ask Richie about tonight’s songs and his music in general. He listened, affectionately, as he went on and on about the band’s decision to use his originals. How stressing it was, mainly because Eddie and him weren’t on talking terms while he sat for hours on end at home rewriting old stuff and horrible feelings down on paper. Eddie apologized, hating the idea of Richie isolating himself for a week because of their confrontation. But Richie brushed it off, saying the loneliness had always been his muse, it helped with creativity. He was joking, but Eddie hated that they both knew it was true.

They went on with that topic for the twenty minutes it took to see Richie’s house up ahead. In their defence, it was a slow walk. As they made their way inside, Eddie zooned out with the worry of being alone with Richie, despite having been the one to suggest it. He didn’t understand why he was suddenly so nervous about it if they had done things before. His heartbeat fastened at the memory of the two of them up in Eddie’s bedroom, Eddie’s mouth attached to Richie’s neck. He hadn’t known where the courage came from that night, but maybe it was because they were still friends, and Eddie knew how to be friends with someone. However, he did not know how to be more with someone, more with Richie, even if he acted that way before at least twice.

They’ve already kissed, that much was established. The moment hadn’t been planned, perhaps that was the secret. This time, Eddie sort of knew what to expect coming to Richie’s house after confessing feelings for each other. So, now he was aware of what they could do alone, and that automatically made him believe he would make a fool of himself and fail at being what Richie saw him as: an example.

When Eddie came back to himself from all the useless worries, he was already sitting on Richie’s bed by his side, legs touching. Richie cleared his throat to bring his attention back.

“Do you wanna stay the night?”

“Yeah. My mom thinks I’m staying over at Mike’s so… it’s fine.”

“Okay.” Richie nodded, avoiding eye contact.

At that, Eddie’s brows furrowed. For the first time that night he realized that he might not be the only one second guessing what to do and feeling self-conscious.

“Are you nervous?” Eddie tried. “I can leave if you want, that’s alright.” He still placed a hand on Richie’s bouncing knee. It was funny how he got over his own self-doubt once he knew Richie was struggling, himself.

Glancing at the hand on his knee, Richie hurried to answer. “No. Don’t go, please. I am nervous, you’re right.”

Sympathetically, Eddie nodded. “What do you have to be nervous about, Rich?”

“Are you kidding?” Richie looked up at him with big eyes. “I’ve lost count of how long I’ve been waiting for this, Eddie. I’ve wanted you for so long, I’ve thought about this moment a million times before and I just want it to be as perfect as it always is in my head. But the truth is… I don’t know what it’s like to actually have you.” He ended with a frustrated sigh.

It filled Eddie’s chest with pride to have that kind of effect on the boy in front of him. “I thought about you, us, a lot too. Of course I thought I was a horrible person for doing that but you helped me accept my feelings, you see? I also don’t know what’s it like to have you… but I’d love to figure that out, together. That’s what we’re here for.”

A shaky breath exhaled from Richie’s body as he put one hand over Eddie’s, still on his knee. “You should kiss me right now.” He whispered kindly, non-demanding in any way. It was an open invitation, he knew that Eddie was afraid to mess it up, he could see it in him right now. “You’ve done it before, just go with your instinct.”

And sure, it sounded easy, but it was still new. A second, better kiss. It’s okay, Eddie reminded himself as he moved his head forward an inch. It’s okay, because this was Richie, and if he had to be honest, Eddie was kind of used to being and feeling and doing everything with him. This was just one of the many new things he would add to that list, and he would welcome all of those firsts into his life with open arms.

The distance between their bodies was none and soon Eddie’s face was standing mere inches apart from Richie’s. Close enough to be cross eyed and feel each other’s breathing, Richie wetted his lips and let his eyes close. Eddie observed him for a moment, taking in the beautiful, vulnerable features illuminated by the moonlight coming in through the window. It was mesmerizing.

At last, Eddie closed the space between them, making their lips collide in a soft peck at the same time as his eyes closed involuntarily. He could feel Richie shifting closer, a light, eager pressure on his lips and a shaky exhale tickling his skin with warm air. After five seconds, Eddie pulled away, surprised by the sound that filled the room when their lips separated.

Both of them opened their eyes to find matching shy smiles. Richie placed his free hand over Eddie’s jaw, fingers curled around the side of his neck. Mirroring his actions, Eddie guided his own hand to sit over Richie’s hip. With a little more confidence, Eddie leaned back in to capture Richie’s mouth again only to be interrupted midway by the boy himself.

“I give that one a solid 10/10.”

Confused, Eddie blinked twice. “Did you just- Are you actually rating me right now when I was trying to kiss you ag- Why are you laughing, you dipshit?” With Richie’s parents asleep in the house, Eddie had to show his annoyance through gritted teeth and stage whispers.

Richie kept giggling light-heartedly, hand still covering Eddie’s jaw until he felt the smaller boy start to move away from him. Then it wasn’t funny anymore. “No no no, don’t go, I’m sorry Eds. Come back.” Richie pulled him back by the arms, but instead of keeping them seated, he lowered his body down until his back hit the mattress. Eddie followed, helplessly being pulled along until he was laying on top of the lanky boy, slightly uncomfortable to apply all his weight on Richie. “Kiss me again.” Richie pouted, their faces now lined up.

“Then stop rating me, or I’ll drool on you on purpose.” That made the boy laugh again, but he quickly recovered. Eddie sighed, finally giving in and awkwardly bending his head to the right so that their noses wouldn’t bump. He wanted to do something instead of keeping their mouths still, but now that he was thinking about that, it would become a harder task to follow.

It turned out that Richie began to move first, mouth parting and moving thoughtfully. Eddie felt the care Richie put into it, as if he had to make sure Eddie would be okay with it and be able to follow. It wasn’t perfect, but it felt that way. It awoke something deep within Eddie’s core, overwhelmed by all of his senses. The slick sounds, the heat from their bodies touching, the taste of Richie’s mouth and the scent of him, too. All of it turned his blood into fire, burning up is insides and leaving behind a blissful numbness.

It was the best thing he ever experienced.

When he felt Richie’s tongue swiping over his, Eddie couldn’t help the sound that escaped him, surprised and excited at the same time. They got lost in each other, tangled together and unaware of time passing while their curious hands grasped at hairs, roamed over sides and backs and went back up to rest lovingly on the other’s cheeks. The leper didn’t cross Eddie’s mind, not for a single second.

Once they finally pulled apart, now resting on their sides with intertwined legs, their foreheads touched while they attempted to catch their breaths. Richie’s glasses had been placed aside a while back, the frame kept digging into Eddie’s nose and cheeks.

After some time, Eddie cleared his throat and did his best to keep a straight face. “I’d give that a 7, to be honest.”

Richie lifted his head to look down at him. He seemed conflicted, trying to understand if Eddie was serious or not, but then a smile cracked through Eddie’s lips. “You’re a prick, Eddie Kaspbrak.” He dived in to Eddie’s neck, attach himself around the boy like a leech and loudly blow raspberries on his skin, for once not caring about waking up his parents.

Eddie squirmed under the touch and his happy giggles filled up the room. Everything was in the right place right then, he was happy, finally lighter from coming clean about so many long held secrets. Maybe that was the true meaning behind Richie’s words.

Finding himself. Eddie thought this was the closest he would be to achieve that.

rooftop taglist:   @richietoaster   @rainydayriots   @reddieloves    @thetrashmouthclub   @lemonboi03 @noodleboyshane    @pillsandglasses   @studpuffin      @dandelion-stan     @reddiesetrichie     @squishynonbinarytwink      @itschunky      @burymestanding     @duderrific    @its-rye @salty-kaspbrak  @youtubequeens   @reddieseggrolls   @addimagination   @pastelstozier @sleepysirenprincess @constantreaderfool   @mrs-vh @eds-trashmouth

perma taglist:  @constantreaderfool   @mrs-vh  @eds-trashmouth @girasol-eddie

[imcrushedbyarainbowoffical]

Deceitber Day 8: Snake Charmer (Fluffy ship)

This is a long one but I hope you enjoy :)

Prompt: Fluffy Ship

Word Count: 2016

Characters: Deceit, Remus, Roman, Patton, Logan, and Virgil. 

Relationships: Demus/Receit

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, Remus being Remus, and kissing. 

Despite being half of the creativity, Remus wasn't very good at the whole romance thing. Now when it came to the sexy part, he knew how to get down and dirty in a flash. But romance? He was clueless.

Therein lied the problem, because if you wanted to catch a certain snake. You had to be charming and irresistible.

So how do you charm a snake? You enlist some help of course!

Remus popped up in the light sides commons with the biggest grin on his face while holding his chin in his hand. Yet, the light sides didn't pay him any mind as he stood behind the tv.

"Hey!" he shouted "I like Deceit, like /really/ like Deceit and I want to go on a date with him! But I don't know anything about that romantic shit! So can you all help me?!?!"

Everyone looked at Remus with confusion clouding there faces. As though he had just told the strangest joke any of them had ever heard.

"Um, what?" asked Roman

"You like who now?" asked Virgil

"I like Deceit and want to date Deceit," Remus emphasized

"And you want us to help....you?" said Roman with an eyebrow raise

"Yes!"

"Why are you enlisting the help of us, Remus?" asked Logan

"Because I don't know shit about romance and you all do so...help me!"

"But we aren't-" Logan began

"We'd be happy to help!" squealed Patton, cutting Logan off.

"We would?" asked Roman and Virgil in unison.

"Of course! We can't leave a Side hanging now can we?"

"Uh, ya, I agree. We'll help you in your quest for love Remus!" Roman said triumphantly as he pulled out his sword and aimed it toward the sky.

"We will?" asked Virgil "But how? Remus isn't the most charming person in the world you know."

"Virgil's right, how do you plan on doing this?" asked Logan

"We'll figure that out soon enough. Now let's get you ready for tonight's date, Remus" Roman replied

"Yay! Thank you, dork!" Remus shouted as he jumped up and down on the balls of his feet.

Remus was practically squirming as Roman brushed some blush onto Remus's pale cheeks. Then adding some dark green eyeshadow along the ridge of his eyes that went perfectly with his black and green suit he was wearing. As with the green bowtie they added for an extra touch up.

"Hold still Remus. I can't make you look decent if you're jumping all over the place," said Roman

"Sorry, I'm just really excited," Remus replied

"I know you are but just keep it in your pants until tonight. Alright?"

Remus grinned "I'll try" he mocked

Remus sat at the table with his thumbs twitling. It was 6:55 and in five minutes, Logan would being bringing in Deceit. The dinner would start at exactly 7:00 o'clock meaning Remus only had five minutes to compose himself and prepare for his date with Deceit.

The room had been set up just the way Roman and Patton said it would. With the table dittied up with a fancy white table cloth and a candlestick in the middle. While fairy lights were strung around the room with roses and hearts accompanying them.

It was certainly beautiful, by Roman's standards anyway. But Remus couldn't help but feel nervous. He was half hoping Logan would be a little late. After all, he wanted to be prepared for everything and anything that should transpire throughout the date.

However, when the clock dinged at 7:00, Logan popped up with Deceit, who was wearing his black and yellow tux with a yellow bowtie. His face was clouded with confusion but quickly turned to an amused smile when he saw Remus.

Remus tried to keep down his excitement and popped a breath mint into his mouth. Roman had suggested he keep his breath smelling good. (Though Remus didn't see the point of it). Remus got up from the table as Deceit approached.

"Remus" Deceit acknowledged, with an eyebrow raised.

Remus swallowed the lump in his throat and grabbed Deceit's hand. Gently planting a slow kiss on the top of his glove.

"You look stunning tonight my dear," Remus said.

He looked up momentarily to see if the snake side was blushing, but was only met with the same smile.

"Right this way," Remus said, clearing his throat.

He pulled Deceit along and pulled out a chair for him. Deceit carefully sat in the seat and Remus pushed the chair closer to the table.  Remus then went to his own seat and sat down, smiling fondly at Deceit.

"I must say, Remus," Deceit said, "For someone as daft as you, I wouldn't think you'd be able to pull something like this off."

"Oh well, you know me. Always coming up with crazy ideas. However, this time I thought we could do something a little more simple. But with style of course."

Remus snapped his fingers and Roman appeared at his side. Dressed in a waiters uniform with a fake brown mustache hanging from his nose. He handed Remus a menu (that was really a folded piece of paper with the word "menu" on it) and Remus pretended to look at it.

"Well have the special tonight," Remus said as he handed the menu back.

"Yes, of course," Roman replied

Roman skipped into the kitchen and came out again carrying a large platter in one hand. He set the platter down on the table and removed the silver lid, revealing two plates of spaghetti.

"Spaghetti al a Pat," said Roman

Deceit raised an eyebrow and eyed Remus curiously.

"I hope you don't mind pasta. Patton helped me make it," said Remus.

"Not at all," Deceit grabbed his fork and wrapped a bit of the spaghetti around it. He took a small bite and smiled. "It's delicious," he said.

Remus smiled back and dug into his dinner, slurping up the noodles so quick the sauce was flying everywhere. He was halfway through when he noticed Roman was behind Deceit chair, frowning and waving his hand against his neck in a frantic motion. Remus glanced at Deceit who was holding his hand over his mouth and seemingly trying not to laugh. Remus cleared his throat and straightened himself, properly eating his food this time and garnering a thumbs up from Roman.

Remus and Deceit kept up a pleasant conversation throughout the meal. Talking about their likes, dislikes, hobbies, etc. However, Remus felt as though they weren't getting anywhere and snapped his fingers. Roman or the "waiter" was summoned to his side and Remus motioned for him to come closer. Roman put his ear up to Remus's mouth.

"I think we need to spice things up," he whispered

"On it," replied Roman

Roman clapped his hands twice and music began to play. Remus adjusted his bowtie and approached Deceit, extending his hand.

"May I, have this dance?" he asked

Deceit smiled cooley and took Remus's hand, standing up. "I would be honored," he said with a slight bow. Remus felt the heat rushing to his face but smiled.   He brought Deceit over to the living room and they began.

You're in my arms And all the world is calm The music playing on for only two

He grabbed Deceit's hand and wrapped his other arm around Deceit's upper back. Then two began, their feet moving the rhythm of the music as their bodies danced back and forth, left, right, and back again.

So close together And when I'm with you So close to feeling alive

Their hearts were practically beating as one. Deceit and Remus moving so slowly yet in a sort of trance.

A life goes by Romantic dreams must die So I bid my goodbye And never knew

Remus felt like he was going to lose himself in Deceit's heterochromatic eyes. The way his brown and yellow became soft in the light and yet curious. He could feel himself getting weak in the knees.

So close, was waiting Waiting here with you And now, forever, I know

Remus lifted his arm and spun Deceit around slowly,

All that I wanted To hold you so close

Remus pulled Deceit in closer as the energy in the room picked up.

So close to reaching That famous happy end

Deceit looked into Remus's eyes as the two of them twirled around the room, a genuine smile tugging at his lips.

Almost believing This one's not pretend

Remus spun Deceit a few times again. Dipping him low and raising him high as there bodies intertwined with each other.

And now you're beside me And look how far we've come So far we are, so close

They stopped for only a short moment to catch their breath but immediately resumed afterward.

Oh how could I face the faceless days If I should lose you now

Remus slipped his hand down Deceit's back and onto his waist. Deceit's breath hitched but he soon relaxed into the touch.

We're so close to reaching That famous happy ending Almost believing This one's not pretend

They were swinging fully now, lost in each other's bodies and eyes.

Let's go on dreaming For we know we are

The music began to fade as they slowed down and stopped. Remus grabbed Deceit's chin and lifted his head slightly. Hot breath landed on each other's faces as Remus leaned in closer, his lips tantalizingly close to Deceits.

So close, so close And still so far

Remus pressed his lips against Deceits, enlisting a sudden gasp from Deceit. Remus entangled his fingers through Deceit's hair and felt his body burning with passion. Though the kiss only lasted a moment before Deceit pushed away. Tumbling back from Remus with the human half of his face blushing wildly.

"Are you alright my dear?" Remus asked

Deceit composed himself and straightened his body, "I-I'm fine. I was just a bit surprised is all," he said.  

Remus chuckled and walked over to Deceit. He wrapped an arm around Deceit's waist and leaned in again, but Deceit put a finger to his mouth. "I-I think we should, um, watch a movie. You know? To relax a l-little."

Remus nodded and led Deceit over to the couch. Remus then snapped his fingers and summoned Virgil.

"Nightmare Before Christmas, if you would," he said.

Virgil smirked and popped the DVD into the player then threw the remote at Remus. "Have fun," he said as he sunk out in a flash.

Remus hit play on the remote and glanced over to Deceit, who was still noticeably blushing. He seemed to be trying to keep his attention on the movie and not on Remus.

Remus smirked and slid a little closer to Deceit, pretending to stretch and yawn as he wrapped an arm around Deceit's shoulders. Deceit immediately tensed up but relaxed as Remus gingerly massaged his shoulder. Deceit's eyes slid closed and he leaned into the touch, curling into Remus's chest with a content sigh. The movie continued to play in the background but Remus wasn't even paying attention at this point. He shifted his weight and positioned himself to lay down on the couch. Making sure Deceit laid comfortably on his chest. This wasn't exactly what he was planning on doing that night. But for whatever strange reason, it felt right.

Remus wrapped his arms around Deceit and snuggled him closer. Combing the Deceit's hair with his fingers and kissing his forehead. Deceit sighed happily and climbed up Remus's body a bit, till their faces were in line with each other. Without even opening his eyes, Deceit leaned down and kissed Remus's lips, making the rat side blush. Then Deceit nuzzled his face into the crook of Remus's neck. Remus could tell by Deceit's slow breathing that he was asleep. 

They could get down and dirty another night. Cause, for now, Remus was content on just holding Deceit close like this. It wasn't the same as getting the fiery passion of sex but it was close. Close enough for Remus anyway.

[secretagentdreamer]

Day 21: Laced Drink

Fandom: Marvel. Character(s): Peter Parker. Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, original male character. Warnings: drugged drinks, references at attempted rape but it doesn’t occur. Word Count: 1431

*Please take note of the warnings: everything is alright in the end but Penny is still roofied.

-*-

2017

Penny Stark (if her dad is trying, she can try too) is bored: her father’s parties always drag out far longer than necessary.

She hasn’t been to one of these parties in five or so years, but her dad has been trying to make an effort to be more involved in her life so she’s making an effort to be apart of his. And that means coming to these stuffy parties where the person closest to her age has to be a good ten years older than her.

At least she’s gotten to dress up. Pepper had picked out a beautiful dark green dress for her: it’s made of satin, with spaghetti straps and a v neckline. It falls just above her knees and Penny had spent a good thirty minutes, after putting it on, just twirling the material around her knees and feeling like a princess. The feeling had grown even stronger after Pepper had applied makeup to her face with a light hand and braided her long hair into a messy fishtail braid.  

So at least Penny can have a rare moment of self-confidence with no one to show off to. Penny wishes Ned could’ve come, but he’s at his grandparent’s fiftieth wedding anniversary so Penny just has to settle for texting him. She’s tucked herself in the furthest corner of the ballroom, cause that’s where the party is being held, sitting on a windowsill with her legs pulled to her chest. No one is paying her the slightest bit of attention, Dad and Pepper are busy being good hosts to spend much time with her. Well, she thought no one was paying any attention to her.

“These parties are always the biggest snooze-fest, aren’t they?”

Penny jumps a little, so engrossed in her phone that she hadn’t even noticed anyone walk up to her. She glances up and her heart might stutter a couple of beats when she sees a handsome server looking down at her with a beautiful half-smirk. “Oh. Uh, yeah.” She stutters eloquently. Mentally kicking herself for sounding like an idiot in front of the cute boy who looks to only a few years older than her. “Very boring.”

The server nods, the tray he’s got in his left hand is holding a single drink which he offers to Penny a second later. “It’s just a coke,” He says in explanation when Penny eyes it. He nods down at the empty glass beside her. “I noticed you were empty.”

Penny looks down at the empty cup. She hadn’t even noticed it was empty. “Oh right. Thank you.” She reaches up and takes the cup off the tray, she takes a large gulp as she pulls it back, hoping the familiar action will make her feel less awkward around the hot boy.

The boy flashes a brilliant smile at Penny and she can’t stop the blush that creeps onto her cheeks. “So are your parents in there?” He asks, glancing over his shoulder at the crowd behind him.

Penny takes another sip. She hadn’t noticed how hot it had gotten in the ballroom until she had the sweet relief of the cold drink. “My dad. And his girlfriend. I won’t get to leave until they do and they’ll be here all night.”

“Well I guess that’s parents for you. Can’t say I know the feeling, cause my mom died when I was ten and my dad is a deadbeat.” His voice is deadpan but there’s a wide grin on his face.

Penny takes another sip, trying to think of the best way to respond to that. “Well if it makes you feel any better, my mom died when I was five. And my dad has put in some really dangerous situations over the years.”

A moment passes between them as they inspect the other person. Then it passes and they both burst into laughter. “So, neither of us have a great childhood.” The server says before sticking his free hand out to Penny. “I’m Nathan Prescott. You can call me Nate.”

Penny takes the hand being offered. “I’m Penny Parker. Penny is fine.”

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Penny Parker. I better get back to work before I get into trouble. You should finish that drink real soon so I can bring you another.” He sends Penny a wink and Penny’s heart stutters again. No one has flirted with Penny since the Homecoming dance and her disastrous date with Liz. Penny offers a shy smile before taking another large gulp of her drink as she watches Nate walk away.

He has a very cute butt.

-

Time has passed.

Penny isn’t actually sure how much, however. She’s very tired now and time is very hard to keep track of right now.    

Nate had come back maybe a dozen or so times by now? (Penny isn’t sure anymore; everything is fuzzy right now.) She may or may not have been chugging the cokes so Nate would have a reason to come back and visit her and she would have someone to talk to.

Penny swallows the last mouthful of another coke. She goes to put the glass back on the windowsill but her fingers suddenly feel very weak and the glass slips from her hands and lands, thankfully, into her lap.

“Are you alright there, Penny Parker?” A voice asks and it takes Penny a while to figure out that it’s Nate again. She opens her mouth to respond but no words come out, only a pained groaned, Penny thinks she might throw up. It must be obvious because Nate’s next words are, “You look like you’re going to throw up. Do you want some help to get to the bathroom?”

Penny’s stomach churns. She nods.

An arm wraps around her shoulders and helps Penny to her feet. “Come on then, Penny Parker. Let’s get you somewhere private, then shall we?” They begin walking. Well, Nate is walking; Penny is leaning pretty much all of her weight on the older boy because her legs don’t want to respond to commands to walk anymore.

Penny briefly wonders why he said the word private and not bathroom while Nate is basically dragging her along, but Penny’s stomach gives another unsettling jolt and Penny has no time to question the words before she’s throwing up all over her pretty dress and over Nate as well.

Nate lets out a disgusted yell and steps away. Unfortunately for Penny, this means her support is gone so Penny crumbles to the floor. She lands with a thud, her knees aching all of a sudden and now with another strong urge to throw up.

Penny wants to go home.

She hears loud voices, yelling apparently but nothing is decipherable to her at the moment. All Penny knows is that she wants to go to bed.

“Penny, sweetheart?” Penny’s head jerks toward the sounds of the voice, she can’t open her eyes to see whose talking. “Penny, it’s Pepper. Are you with me right now?”

Penny manages a groan. “I’m sorry about my pretty dress, Pep.”

“Your dress? Pen, I don’t care about your dress. I’m gonna take you to the med bay. Your dad is going to meet us there later. Okay?”

Penny manages another groan before everything goes black.

-

Penny blinks her eyes open. Then she shuts them again immediately when the bright light hurts her eyes. Her whole body is in agony but her stomach and throat hurt especially much.

“Stay down, kid,” A voice, her dad she recognizes, speaks to her right. “You had a pretty big night last night.” His voice is bitter.

“What happened?” Penny whispers, not understanding why he’s angry with her. What had she done last night?

She must’ve spoken those words out loud because her dad’s next words are, “I’m not mad at you kid. You didn’t do anything wrong. That server last night was putting Rohypnol in your drinks. I watched the security videos from the last night, he was slipping two pills into every drank he gave you. You had nearly eight drinks. Do you remember anything from last night?”

Penny tries to think, she really does, but she can’t remember a thing. She shakes her head.

Dad’s voice is softer with his next words. “That’s probably for the best. Maybe I’ll tell you later. Go back to sleep, Pen. The drugs are still in your system. I’ll make sure no one tries to hurt you anymore.”

Penny lets out a yawn before burrowing back into the sheets and falling straight back to sleep.

[biolabs-soldier]

Long post:

I was never a fan of rap growing up, but when I went to college, I became exposed to it more. I mainly gravitated towards Eminem. I cannot explain why, but once I heard how real his music can be-- the fact that be bases his songs off of his own experiences-- I immediately became more attuned to the lyrics in his songs.

One song I can honestly relate to, whether it was Eminem’s intention or not, is “Lose Yourself”. Yes, I know the song is about his journey to becoming the rapper he was at that point in time, but using my own experiences, I can honestly say that I can apply this to my life.

I have been lucky enough to not have many barriers in my life, but the recurring barrier that I still battle with today is my stutter. I have had it since I began to talk and I have gone through hell. The constant bullying as a kid, even from family, the fear of being made fun of wherever I go. However, listening to “Lose Yourself” helps me when I feel stressed because I can honestly relate to the lyrics, even if Eminem’s story is nowhere near mine, and vice versa.

If you have read this far, I implore you to keep reading so you can get into the mind of a stutterer. If not, there are no hard feelings.

Yo! His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy There's vomit on his sweater already: Mom's spaghetti

Speaking is nerve-racking for stutterers. Even daily conversation with friends can be stress-inducing. You can become physically nauseous as your body is physically cramping as you squeeze the words out.

He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready

No one can tell by looking at someone if they have a stutter.

To drop bombs, but he keeps on forgetting What he wrote down, the whole crowd goes so loud He opens his mouth, but the words won't come out He's choking, how? Everybody's joking now The clock's run out, time's up, over—blaow!

You seem like you don’t know what you are saying, or what you mean to say. [I suffer from mostly “blocks”, which is when words are stuck in your throat until you can force the sound out... sometimes painfully]. You can even just sit there and make a little yelp, and people laugh. Your time to ask a question or say something can pass right by you.

Snap back to reality, ope there goes gravity, ope There goes Rabbit, he choked, he's so mad but he won't Give up that easy, no, he won't have it, he knows His whole back's to these ropes, it don't matter, he's dope He knows that but he's broke, he's so stagnant, he knows When he goes back to this mobile home, that's when it's Back to the lab again yo, this whole rhapsody Better go capture this moment and hope it don't pass him

The world keeps spinning, regardless of your feelings and hardships. You need to dig deeper into the sand and lift yourself up. A daily struggle when constant physical strain on your throat, eyes, and stomach are recurring.

You better lose yourself in the music The moment, you own it, you better never let it go You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow This opportunity comes once in a lifetime, yo You better lose yourself in the music The moment, you own it, you better never let it go You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow This opportunity comes once in a lifetime, yo You better…

Regardless of your stutter, you need to say what you need to say. Even if you can’t speak fluently at all.

His soul's escaping through this hole that is gaping

Words can hang in your throat and slowly slither out, just a sound. “s-s-s-s”

This world is mine for the taking, make me king

As we move toward a New World Order

A normal life is boring; but superstardom's Close to post-mortem, it only grows harder

You can lead a normal life with a stutter, but there are internal struggles you fight with daily.

Homie grows hotter, he blows, it's all over

You can speak fluently for a while and then psyche yourself out because you are speaking so fluently.

These hoes is all on him, coast-to-coast shows He's known as the Globetrotter, lonely roads God only knows, he's grown farther from home, he's no father He goes home and barely knows his own daughter

Another reference to having a normal life. People like you, and you even have relationships, but sometimes you can look in the mirror and not even recognize yourself.

But hold your nose, 'cause here goes the cold water

These hoes don't want him no mo', he's cold product They moved on to the next schmoe who flows He nose-dove and sold nada, and so the soap opera Is told, it unfolds, I suppose it's old, partner But the beat goes on: da-da-dom, da-dom, dah-dah, dah-dah

People’s true colors show and those you thought were friends can be talking shit about you behind your back.

No more games, I'ma change what you call rage Tear this motherfuckin' roof off like two dogs caged I was playin' in the beginning, the mood all changed I've been chewed up and spit out and booed off stage But I kept rhymin' and stepped right in the next cypher Best believe somebody's payin' the Pied Piper All the pain inside amplified by the Fact that I can't get by with my nine-to- Five and I can't provide the right type of life for my family 'Cause man, these goddamn food stamps don't buy diapers And there's no movie, there's no Mekhi Phifer, this is my life And these times are so hard, and it's gettin' even harder Tryna feed and water my seed, plus teeter-totter Caught up between bein' a father and a prima donna Baby mama drama, screamin' on her, too much for me to wanna Stay in one spot, another day of monotony's Gotten me to the point I'm like a snail, I've got To formulate a plot or end up in jail or shot Success is my only motherfuckin' option—failure's not Mom, I love you, but this trailer's got To go; I cannot grow old in Salem's Lot So here I go, it's my shot: feet, fail me not This may be the only opportunity that I got

Having a stutter is one of the most frustrating things I have ever experienced, and I have seen myself at my angriest when I cannot speak, have a block, or have a stutter more than usual. You psyche yourself out when your future comes into play: getting interviews, making friends, getting into relationships, etc. Regardless, the world doesn’ t give a shit if you stutter or are fluent. You need to lift yourself up from your ashes and keep going. Work for what you want, always know your limits, and do your best to meet them and even surpass them if possible. Recognize your own achievements because no one else will. No one knows the pain you’re going through and no one else can understand it. Just do your thing, go for what you need to do to succeed in life.

If you read all of this, I am extremely grateful. It’s easy to read the words and have the patience, but if I were to read this, I doubt many would have the patience to listen.. let alone hold their tongues.

In short, Eminem is a relatable rapper, and his music has gotten me through some hard times. So listen to “Lose Yourself” once and maybe see it in a new light.

Thanks for reading, everyone!

[peblezq]

Epiphany

PAIRING:

Older!Richie Tozier x Older!Eddie Kaspbrak

DESCRIPTION:

SPOILER ALERT! Do not read this if you haven't read the book “IT” by Stephen King! I don't wanna ruin the end for you if you don't already know how it ends.

This is my own version of the ending of “IT”, but in the movie universe. So basically, this is how I think IT: Chapter 2 (2019) should end… a whole year before it even comes out, lmao

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

Hi! I deleted my fanfiction side-blog because I’m a self-concious moron, so I’m gonna post this on my main blog.

This idea has been floating in my head for a while now, so I wrote it down.

I wanted to write an alternate ending to the novel “IT” by Stephen King, but it’s in the movie universe; so The Losers Club are kids in the 1980s, and adults in the 2010s.

This is a rewrite of the second - and final - battle against Pennywise. I changed a lot of stuff about the battle to fit into the movie universe, however, I kept some references from the book and mini series scattered in here :)

I’m just gonna start right in the middle of the battle scene because there’s no need for me to write the entire book before this, lol.

Sorry if there’s any typos or grammatical errors. I only read through this once before posting, haha.

Story starts below the cut! I hope you guys like it :)

~Pebbs

PART I

The tunnels of the sewer were darker and murkier than they remembered. The rancid stench hit all of their senses like a hundred busses driving on the freeway and hitting a single tree. The blood and bruises on the five remaining losers are just the tip of the iceberg to the pain that they feel. The fear impaled each of them in every way that it possibly could. How did they conquer this thing before? How the hell did they beat IT?

Eddie can feel his lungs collapsing on him like he's left floundering in the ice-cold water of the Atlantic Ocean. He struggles to gasp for air as each loser is preoccupied with their own fear.

Just as Eddie is reaching for his inhaler, he feels a hand grab his with the plastic tube of placebo medication. He looks up, startled, but then quickly eases his tense shoulders as he makes eye contact with none other than Trashmouth Richie.

His brown doe eyes are still prominent and huge, even without his thick frames to magnify them. Blood drips when the corners of his lips lift ever so slightly, revealing a small, but powerful smile. Eddie’s heartbeat thumps so hard that he might have a stroke with the way his blood is flowing through his veins right now. He drops the puffer and folds his hands around Richie’s, returning the smile. All of the losers suddenly notice what's happening, and they all join in, holding hands and suddenly feeling less afraid than before.

The moment is stolen away when Pennywise swipes a large tentacle arm to separate them, throwing each loser to a separate wall in the room. Eddie sees Richie fall on his face, crushing his nose and wailing in pain. He sees his other friends, all grown up and vulnerable as they all scream and groan in pain. He sees his puffer, lying on the cold sewer floor not too far from Pennywise. He frowns, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration as he struggles to crawl over to it. If he thought he couldn't breathe before, he was truly kidding himself. His chest feels like three knives are stuck in various places. One in the back, one in the side, and one close to his heart. As he collapsed on the moist cement, he determined his ribs must be cracked from the sudden impact against the wall.

The gashes on his face start to sting as salty tears roll into them. He pushes himself up, his arms and legs shaking violently as he stumbles to a crouching position. He quickly determines he cannot walk to his desired location fast enough, so he settles for crawling again. He reaches out and grabs the cold, plastic and metal tube with fake medicine, ignoring the fact that the cut on his forearm is coating it in his thick red velvet of blood. Eddie stumbles to his feet, vaguely hearing his friend’s desperate screams for him to stop.

“Eddie!! Watch out!” Beverly croaks out in a hoarse scream. Eddie ducks, stumbling backwards as he does so whilst feeling a rush of air above him before standing up as straight as he can. He notices Pennywise's other arm swoops back in the opposite direction, but he doesn't even flinch. He just glares at the clown as he steps back, avoiding the impact before quickly pulling up his medicine in front of the clown from Hell. Pennywise frowns and starts to charge at Eddie, causing an uproar of screams behind him from his beloved friends.

“It's time to take your meds, asshole!” Eddie belts hoarsely as he squeezes the contents of the medication onto Pennywise's face. The clown stumbles backwards, holding ITs face as it shrieks out in pain. All the losers quiet themselves immediately as IT lowers its hands, revealing half of the clowns face to be melted and burnt. Pennywise sneers at Eddie, its melted mouth drooping as it does so.

Eddie’s sudden adrenaline rush allows him to punch the clown in the face, causing it to fly backwards. Eddie stumbles forward, ready to shoot more medicine on ITs face. Pennywise jumps up, grabbing Eddie as IT slowly grows and shifts into a half spider-mantis-clown nightmare. ITs jaw breaks open, pulling more and more as thousands of rows of sharp teeth reveal themselves to Eddie. The losers start to scream in horror again while Eddie's body goes limp as he catches a glimpse of ITs deadlights at the back of ITs throat.

Ben, Bill and Richie try to help Eddie, but the freeze as they too catch a glimpse of ITs deadlights. Beverly shields her eyes and searches around herself in a panic, trying to find some sort of weapon. The nail-gun that Mike provided them with glimmers in the corner of her eyes, and she quickly stumbles towards it. She picks it up, readies the trigger, and climbs the piping beside the creature. She pushes the end of the gun to its heart and pulls the trigger, causing it to screech out in pain.

The three men on the ground blink and stumble out of their trance whilst IT throws Eddie as it stumbles backwards. Eddie smacks against the cement wall, a loud crack echoes with the impact before he rolls onto the floor. Every loser hurries to his aid, falling on their knees as they gingerly check his pulse.

“Eddie!” Richie cautiously holds Eddie’s face as tears begin to cloud his vision. “Eddie Spaghetti…”

“Don't...call...me...that…” Eddie sputters out, violently coughing up blood to punctuate the end of his sentence. The four remaining losers can't help but smile in this bittersweet moment.

Eddie barely notices the others since his vision is slowly blacking out, only showing Richie’s face in the centre of his pinhole-vision. He attempts to smile at his friend, but it seems to distort Richie’s features, causing him to frown pitifully at Eddie.

“You...looked...better...with...glasses…” Eddie comments.

“And you look like shit,” Richie jokes. “You've seriously seen better days, my friend,” he adds, forcing his lips to form into a faint smile.

“Beep...beep…” Eddie starts coughing again, slightly leaning over to spit his blood away from his friend’s face. Eddie tries another smile, but he knows it looks crooked and forced. He leaves it anyways, willing to spend his remaining energy on this moment.

Richie’s breathing suddenly becomes shallow as the situation sinks in. His hands, still gingerly holding Eddie's face, starts to tremble. He suddenly becomes very aware of his close proximity to Eddie, and to his pounding heartbeat skipping occasionally. His fear builds up, but it's barely for the clown anymore. Richie does not want to lose Eddie. Not again. Not ever.

Richie acts impulsively, knowing that this could very possibly be the last chance he gets to do this. He leans over to close the gap between him and Eddie, locking lips with him. Eddie’s eyes widen for a moment before he gently closes them, leaning into the kiss as best as he can from lying on the ground. Richie smiles into the kiss as he tilts his head to deepen it without hurting Eddie too much.

Ben blinks, completely dumbfounded. He respectfully leans back to not invade their moment. Beverly and Bill lean back as well, but they smile endearingly after the initial shock eases away. Ben’s lips soon tug into a smile moments later.

Richie tastes his and Eddie’s blood in the kiss, but he doesn't care. Richie suddenly feels weak, trembling hands grab onto his hair, pulling him down even more. Eddie suddenly winces in pain, causing Richie to quickly peel away from Eddie.

“Sorry!” Richie blubbered out nervously, feeling like a child again.

“I've… wanted… to do that… for a long… time…” Eddie responded, ignoring Richie’s apology.

Eddie’s eyes started to close, but Richie wasn't having it. “No! No, goddammit, you are not dying on me today!” Richie belted. The three other losers notice Pennywise behind them, sluggishly stumbling towards them for another round.

“Don't…  be… afraid,” Eddie coughs, “and kill… that fucking… clown…” Eddie forces one last smile before letting out a long, slow breath.

“No, Eddie!” Richie yells.

...

“Ed's!” Richie tries again.

...

“Eddie Spaghetti?” Richie’s voice becomes quiet as Eddie doesn't respond. Eddie’s muscles have become slack, and his lips are parted ever so slightly. Richie blinks, and Eddie is thirteen again. His skin is smooth with no sign of ageing wrinkles, and his hair lush and full of life again. Richie is a child again, too. He’s suddenly wearing his glasses, and the sounds of his friends' voices are their voices from their childhood.

“Richie!” Bill yells from behind.

“Richie, its up!”

“It’s coming, Richie!”

Richie can't even decipher whose voice is who anymore as they scream for his help. He cradles Eddie’s face and whispers, “I've always loved you, Ed’s.”

Richie sluggishly stands up and turns around, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pulled into a thin line. He glares at Pennywise who still has a partially melted face from Eddie’s puffer. ‘Don't be afraid,’ Eddie’s voice echoes in Richie's head as he marches towards the demon clown, filled with anger and determination. The losers are not kids anymore, and they’re here to kill this clown.

“First, you kill Stanley,” Richie’s voice is dark, somewhat startling his friends as he marches in front of them. “Then you almost killed Mike,” Richie leans forward and picks up the axe that he dropped a long time ago. “And then you killed Eddie,” Pennywise tilts its head, smugly raising the un-melted eyebrow. “Now I'm gonna return the favour, asshole!” Richie lifts the axe and swings it, slicing off Pennywise’s arm in one swift motion.

“I'm gonna fucking kill you!” Richie screams as he continues swinging the axe at the clown. Black tar sprays out of each gash and floats up in the air above IT as the shapeshifting alien stumbles backwards. The other losers take swings on the clown themselves with pieces of pipery from the sewer floors, impaling it and smacking it with double the force each time.

They get IT to the ground, not showing mercy as they continue to attack the beast. All of them fight with a fire in their eyes that hasn't been lit since childhood.

Richie slices the chest cavity of Pennywise, barely flinching as its black blood sprays all over him. The four remaining losers drop their weapons and kneel beside the creature. They each claw into the monster, ignoring its shriek of pain as they dig deeper inside of IT. They hear cracking and slurping noises as they bury their hands deeper until they find the large cavity they were looking for. They grab the heart together and rip it out with their bare hands.

They keep pulling as they notice a cord attached to the heart, and they rip it right out, revealing the physical form of ITs deadlights. They throw the heart onto the cement and Ben stomps on it, causing it to burst out its gooey black tar blood.

They stare at it for a while as the children and Bill’s wife slowly float down. Bill hurries to her aid whilst Ben and Beverly head towards Eddie. Richie continues to glare at the corpse of the monster, feeling completely numb.

Suddenly, Ben’s desperate voice cries out, “I feel a pulse!”

PART II

They emerge from the depths of the sewers, squinting as they make contact with daylight. Bill adjusts his unconscious wife over his shoulder whilst Richie does the same with Eddie. They all continue to rush towards their cars and they immediately head to the hospital.

~°*°~

Bill’s wife is fine, but she hasn't spoken a word since the incident. The doctors say that the shock of the traumatic event has silenced her, and they can't tell if she will ever speak again.

News on Eddie hasn't come back yet, and Richie can't stop pacing. All he can think about is every moment in his teens after their summer fighting IT. He remembers how every day, the kids slowly drifted apart from each other. He remembers when Ben moved away, and how they rarely saw Mike since he was homeschooled, and how Stanley made new friends that didn't irritate him as much. Stan did still talk to them from time to time, and he said goodbye at the start of summer when they all moved away for college. Richie didn't go to college, he just moved to Los Angeles and auditioned for many talent agencies until he got accepted. He then auditioned for Saturday Night Live, and the rest is history now.

Richie sits down, nervously shaking his leg as he ponders how different his life could've been if he just picked up the damn phone and called his friends once in a while. The only friend he even saw between graduation and now was Bill. Richie never approached Bill, but he saw him at one or two movie premiers with his actress wife - who may be scarred for life now since she just had to come here instead of listening to Bill’s warnings to steer her away from danger.

‘Such a stubborn lady, but I guess that’s why Bill fell in love with her,’ Richie muses to himself as he rests his chin on his hands. His thighs feel like they might become numb if he keeps the pressure he’s using with his elbows right now. Richie pushes his hands further up his face, covering his features as he groans in pain. ‘I probably should've seen a doctor. Every-fucking-thing hurts.’

Richie starts thinking about his relationships - or rather, lack thereof - throughout his adult life. He dated one girl - an actress he worked on a rom-com with in his twenties - but that lasted for maybe a month because their relationship was too public. They were constantly pestered by paparazzi, and they rarely spent time with each other outside of their press tour. He realized that their relationship wasn't real when the buzz from their movie died down a bit. It was all an accidental publicity stunt on their parts. They parted ways on good terms, and they're still good friends to this day, still working on the odd film with each other now and again.

Richie only ever had hookups after that, and he didn't enjoy any of them. He sighs, realizing that all this time, there was one person he secretly wanted to spend the rest of his life with, but it took a battle with the demon clown from his past to have this epiphany.

‘I'm a grown-ass, middle-aged man, and I just now realized that I was suppressing romantic feelings for my childhood best friend? Fuck that. I am not gay!’ Richie groans again, rubbing circles in his temples and he closes his eyes. ‘I did kiss him though. That's...pretty gay.’

“Hey, you should really see a doctor.” Bev’s voice startles Richie, causing him to sit up and look over at her like a deer caught in headlights. ‘God, I hope I didn't say any of that out loud.’

“No, I'm fine,” Richie snaps. He awkwardly looks away, feeling guilty for snapping at her. “I'll leave the medical resources for the people who actually fucking need it.”

“There are plenty of doctors here, Rich. You're not going to stop anyone from saving Eddie,” Beverly sighs, sitting down beside him. “And you do need a doctor, too. You may not be dying at the moment, but you're clearly in a lot of pain.”

“I don't care,” Richie mutters, slouching as he glares at the opposite wall. “I'm not seeing a doctor until I know that Eddie is okay.”

Beverly sighs again, looking off to the side before looping her arm around Richie and resting her head against his shoulder. Richie glances at her over his shoulder and smiles at the floor. “You're hurting my neck,” Richie mumbles under his breath, his smirk more prominent now.

“I don't care. I'm going to sit here like this with you until we know that Eddie is okay,” Beverly replies with a bittersweet smile.

~°*°~

Richie finishes by tightening his tie. He briefly smiles at himself in the mirror. He turns around when he sees Beverly walk in the reflection behind him. He watches her as she examines him, smiling and patting down his shoulders.

“You look great, Rich,” Beverly compliments with a bashful smile.

“Thanks, Bev.”

She pauses. “They’re all waiting for you outside,” she says with a small smile.

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie takes one last look at himself in the mirror, dusting his suit jacket and adjusting his tie one last time. “I always show up fashionably late to any event.”

“This isn’t just another one of your movie premieres, Rich,” Beverly pouts with a raised eyebrow. Richie sighs, suddenly becoming rather fond of his shoes.

“I hope we all continue to stay in touch after all of this...” Richie’s voice falls, and he clears his throat nervously.

“Me too,” Beverly replies, smiling brightly. Richie faces her, and she pulls him into a tight hug. He holds her just as tightly, suddenly feeling the tears overwhelm him.

“Dammit,” Richie mumbles as he wipes his tears over her shoulder. “Don’t tell anyone I cried.”

Beverly pulls back and wipes the second tear that escaped his eyes. “I promise.” He wipes her escaped tear and they give each other quick smiles before walking out of the room. Richie and Beverly meet Ben, Bill, BIll’s silent wife, and Mike in the hallway outside of the room. They all walk close together into the cathedral, and they meet the gazes of all the people who ever knew Eddie Kaspbrak. They all walk slowly, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone as they head for the front of the church. They try to ignore the whispers of people wondering who they all were and how the losers even knew Eddie. Many of them glared, knowing they must be the old friends he went off to visit - and who they believe caused his demise.

The five remaining losers - plus Bills wife - make it to the open casket. They all look down at Eddie’s features that have been touched up to look presentable. Richie’s eyes are stuck on the cleaned and stitched gash on Eddie’s cheek, remembering the blood no longer oozing from it as Eddie took his final breaths. His eyes then fell to his lips. They’re pale and cracked, and there’s no trace that they were ever coated in his own blood. Richie ponders that Eddie’s lips no longer look as soft as they felt when Eddie was still alive. Richie blinks when he realizes that his own tear hit Eddie’s nose, and he quickly started rubbing at his own face, trying to rid himself of them.

All of the losers joined hands and leaned in around Richie, protecting him like a forcefield. They all loved Eddie, but Richie’s love for Eddie was so much more, and every remaining loser learned that the moment Richie kissed him.

“Why did you have to die?” Was all that Richie was able to croak out that day before his best friend - his soulmate - was buried.

[navigatorface]

My tips for strengthening the immune system and better Anti Agging!

In order to experience aging healthy and without medication, it is necessary to activate the body's own pharmacy by observing the 3 pillars of health:- Movement- Nutrition- SleepThese 3 pillars have to be observed and cared for as one would do with a luxury object. There is nothing more luxurious than a body and a brain that works. We remain capable of learning until 10 minutes before we die. This means that we train the cognitive and physical muscles regularly, give them the right fuel (nutrition) and give them the necessary regeneration and rest (sleep).

Now to my personal experience with the three pillars:movement:Due to injuries caused by sports and motorcycle accidents, I had to rebuild the complete musculature (legs, feet) several times. Because after several months of inactivity, the muscles are gone and the tendons are shortened. This has brought me to fitness and strength training. I don't do it with great pleasure, there is something masochistic about the machines. But it helps to get back in shape. And in old age, it helps to at least stabilize and in the best case even build up the muscles. I have more muscles and strength now, at 71 years of age, especially on my arms, than I did 50 years ago!I do specific strength training twice a week in the fitness club (60 minutes), additionally at home every 2nd day between 60-70 push-ups and 1 minute planks as well as trunk bending. Without that my body would be like a rusty car with a weak engine.  After training I always take my Protein Shake nu3, Fit shake. It is a German product with 76% protein, all important vitamins and minerals, collagens, choline and green tea extract. I take the taste with vanilla because it tastes good together with the unsweetened coconut milk where I mix it, about 2-3 deciliter.See my pic here: 

Basically I orientate myself on the food culture of the Mediterranean region. That means a lot of vegetables and little red meat. As meat I prefer chicken and regularly eat fresh water fish like trout, perch, char, whitefish and especially salmon. I prefer sea fish more when I am at the sea.To grill fish or chicken, I always use coconut oil. This oil goes very well with fish or chicken, gives it a special taste. Coconut oil is also good for preserving your eyesight. Coconut oil is a remedy overlooked by Western medicine, which is effective against all kinds of infections as well as macular degeneration and glaucoma. I discovered it too late:

https://www.brodehl.de/selbsthifle-bei-augenerkrankungen/kokosoel/I discovered it much too late. From time to time I take a teaspoonful because it tastes so good. To grill red meat, I only use veal or beef, I always use cold pressed olive oil. I eat red meat only 1x a week. Chicken and fish however 1-3 times a week. As a side dish to fish and chicken I either make rice or noodles. But it can also be a bowl of mixed salad, which I enrich with avocado and feta cheese.

What I also often do is chicken with curry sauce. Cut the chicken into small pieces, fry it with coconut oil and chopped onions, then deglaze it with some white wine, dust it with some spelt flour and add some coffee cream to get a creamy sauce. Then add curry spice. This can be done with turmeric powder or Arbabian Advieh ( Arabian Advieh ground. The most sensual spice of the Orient smells almost like a curry, but it fits to the aromatic language of the Mediterranean Sea) to enhance the taste. You have to try what you like better. Special spices are available from a colleague of mine, Beat Heuberger: www.beat.heuberger.ch in Zurich. What I also like is Riz Casimir. Prepare as with chicken meat as mentioned above. When the curry is ready and the rice is cooked, I prepare the fruits as a side dish. That means I fry some fruits lightly in coconut oil. This can be sliced banana with tangerine slices, grapes and small almond slivers. When they are a little fried, add them to the curry and stir. Rice is especially rich in carbohydrates and nutrients - all around super healthy and suitable for a nutritious and conscious nutrition. In traditional Chinese medicine, rice is even considered a remedy for high blood pressure. It is also said to relieve the heart and strengthen the body - here are the healthiest rice varieties in the world:Natural rice, wild rice, whole grain Basmati riceWhat I also love is vegetable gratin. The frozen vegetables (Frozen vegetables usually contain more nutrients than vegetables in jars or cans, but also as fresh vegetables that have been stored in the refrigerator for a few days. This is because the nutrient content in fresh vegetables decreases significantly over time due to light and heat).I heat the frozen vegetables in the microwave, then put them in a fireproof bowl, sprinkle grated cheese over them and a sauce Bernaise or Hollandaise (as used with asparagus). This is heated in the oven (gratinated), you can see when the sauce turns slightly brownish - super delicious and prepared in no-time.I also love pasta, but you should not eat it every day. I like to make spaghetti with tuna fish sauce. I take tuna from the tin and heat it up in an organic tomato sauce. The sauce can also be made with a ratatouille vegetable sauce ( https://www.lecker.de/ratatouille-gemuese-33919.html )

Or spaghetti bolognese can also be made like this: 20 gr less chopped beef, but with carrots and celery in the tomato sauce. Or for the pizza, I use only fresh tomatoes, sliced and placed on the dough, with tuna pieces (canned), anchovies and capers and some recent Gruyere cheese from Switzerland. You can also use spelt dough as a base.  A simple rule for eating is: Rainbow-colored food, cooked as a side dish or sauce or raw in a salad. Then you eat a lot of secondary plant substances!

I make my homade salad dressing as follows: Mix grape seed oil with balsamic vinegar and a little mayonnaise, salt and pepper and season to taste until it fits personally. So I hope I could give you some advice what and how I eat. However, it is always important to eat what you like and to give you pleasure and pleasure. I am not an ascetic or fundamentalist when it comes to food, I also take a burger every now and then, but never with white bread.

I also love sweets, but in masses.But the most important thing to keep health and weight in balance is the interval fasting that I have been practicing for over 20 years. That means, here the 16 to 8 rule applies.How did I come to this. I had an extreme allergic reaction after the last knee operation in the 90's, due to an antibiotic infusion during anesthesia. This reaction occurred repeatedly over several months with severe skin rashes (hives). I could no longer take certain foods or painkillers and was given an allergy pass. After X sensitivity test it was found out that it was the mentioned antibiotics infusion during anesthesia.I then, independently of this allergy, completed a fasting week in Austria, the so-called F.X. Mayr cure: https://www.netdoktor.de/ernaehrung/heilfasten/mayr-kur/In this course, 1 week, my intestine was cleaned and the microbiom in the intestine, which was destroyed by the antibiotics, was rebuilt. I did not know this, but I was pleasantly surprised about the result. I can recommend thus a chamfering cure only if one has difficulties with the intestine. The intestine is so to speak the pharmacy one with the correct nutrition to effect brings. During chamfered the body disposes of increased cell wastes, whereby the damaged proteins and cell components in a process, which is called autophagy, are digested and eliminated with the defecation. The right diet helps digestion and can alleviate complaints such as irritable bowel syndrome or rheumatism. What also helps of course is stress management with mediation or self-hypnosis. A healthy lifestyle has nothing to do with asceticism or renunciation - on the contrary, everyone can decide for himself whether he or she wants to swallow daily medication in the case of chronic diseases, gets back pain in the case of overweight or even needs artificial joints. On the other hand, those who change their lifestyle and diet not only get a better quality of life but are also rewarded with a strong immune system as a defense against any viruses. My interval fasting looks like this, breakfast like a king, between 08-09h, then late lunch, usually between 13.30 to 15h and then nothing more except 1-2 glasses of red wine in the evening. I always do this when I am alone. As I said before, I am not an ascetic or nutritional fundamentalist. When I am in company, I eat in the evening or enjoy finger food during the apero. Except for sausage, offal or pork, I basically eat everything. The advantage of Dinner Canceling is also that the body's pharmacy produces melatonin, the sleep hormone. Not eating dinner also leads to a better sleep and corresponding sleep quality, which in turn leads to better regeneration. See in addition also my video to stress biology into my YouTube channel: https://youtu.be/a5AFh52nz0MHow to apply the 16 to 8 rule during interval fasting is individually different. There are humans without the breakfast to do and Lunch as well as dinner consume. One must find that out for itself.Interval fasting helps me to keep my weight with +/- 78kg. Most people consume too many calories while eating. For people who don't do heavy physical work, 1200 to max. 1500 calories per day are enough, everything above that is too much.

Regeneration:Here the quality of sleep is decisive, i.e. not the length of sleep but the achievement of deep sleep phases alternating with REM phases. More about this also in my video on stress biology: https://youtu.be/a5AFh52nz0MHere is a tip for irritable bowel syndrome. Here a change in diet and also "abdominal hypnosis" helps to readjust the communication between brain and intestine so that not every stimulus in the brain is felt as pain. A special app "Care care" can help in this respect. A healthy intestine loves fiber, good and slow chewing and regular exercise.  I hope that I can help a little bit with this article so that you can activate your body pharmacy for a long and healthy aging.

[kaiunkaiku]

A Voltron fic for @taylor-tut who requested some self-sacrificing Lance! This got really intense at some point and I don’t know if this is what you were hoping for but it has 2,5K words and it’s half past three in the morning.

Warnings for general Langst, illness and me attempting to write dialogue.

Enjoy!

Lance’s shoulder is burning. It's burning because he got shot with some weird space gun on the last planet and he hasn't tended to it, but he really doesn't have time for it right now. He has better things to do than look at some stupid graze that was his own fault, because Shiro, Pidge and Hunk are all down with some sort of a virus or an infection or something and for all his battle skills Keith is useless in taking care of people.  

It shouldn't matter - Lance is, after all, quite used to taking care of several people at the same time on his own. He remembers that one time visiting home and finding his whole family down with the flu because vaccines cost money they don't have, but the Garrison gives them out to keep outbreaks from happening. What he's not used to, however, is looking after people when he himself is feeling like crap.

For the third morning in a row he brushes off the pain after approximately two hours of sleep and makes his way to the sick bay. The healing pods are useless (just like Keith right now, Lance thinks to himself) against infections and such, whatever this even might be, he doesn't even know. He can only treat the symptoms. It’s pathetic, really, but he’s no doctor and neither is anyone else on the ship. Allura and Coran are not familiar enough with the human anatomy or immune system to do anything useful besides cleaning up basins. Lance doesn't really even trust them with anything else, because for all their good intentions they're still convinced that warm is good and he’s very much done explaining that a 103° fever is not good for humans.

His head feels heavy and his neck aches, and there's a steady, pulsating pain behind his eyes. He’s tired, that's it, but complaining is useless. Sleep is for the weak, and right now Lance can't afford it. Right now he cannot afford being weak, or even feeling weak for that matter, because they have enough people down.

Pidge is positively delirious. Her fever has been consistent for the past few days, rarely spiking and never breaking, and she keeps calling her brother's name in her fever dreams. Lance tries his best to hold her flailing, searching hands and reassure her during the worst times, but there's only so much he can do.

Shiro and Hunk are both coherent and able to communicate - Lance suspects that Pidge’s small build may have something to do with it - but all in all they're not in much better shape. The fever is lower, but being conscious brings on other problems.

Such as the constant nausea and, as a result, vomiting. What follows is dehydration, and honestly, Lance isn't sure he’ll be able to keep them alive long enough for this to pass. He’s also quite certain that Hunk has lost, like, half of his weight in the past three days, but then again so has everyone else, too, because they don't have Hunk cooking for them.

By day four, Lance has slept maybe five hours in the past three nights combined, but Pidge’s fever is finally going down. She wakes up, once, dry heaves for about ten minutes because there's nothing in her to throw up, and falls back to the edge of sleep and unconsciousness. There's minor improvement in everyone's condition, which Lance is very, very grateful for, because he himself is starting to feel a little under the weather.

The pain in his shoulder is worse, practically unbearable by now, but he grits his teeth and takes Pidge’s temperature again.

The fact that something might be actually wrong hits him on the way back to his room. Suddenly there's a twist in his vision and his knees nearly buckle under him, and it's so much worse than what his gradually growing sleep deprived headache has been giving him since maybe two days ago. Instead of fading like he's used to this shit doing, his vision contorts further and then his legs feel like boiled spaghetti and he goes down, sliding along the wall to his right.

The straight, solid lines of the ship around him, the ones he's so used to seeing, are now dancing like Lady Gaga in Applause (he should know) right in front of him where they should be still and linear. Rationally, of course, he knows that's not the case, but suddenly nothing seems to stay in place - he’s not really even sure if he himself is still. His blood in rushing his ears in a deafening volume and the ache behind his eyes makes itself very known as he lets his head hang between his knees and waits for the dizzy spell to pass. The dizziness and the headache are feeding his growing nausea, too.

That's where Keith finds him, some time later. Lance’s breathing is labored and shaky, and there's a clear but unsuccessful attempt to regulate it. His back is heaving to the rhythm of his breaths, and Keith hurries to him in a second. Normally, he’d question if Lance was faking it and maybe looking to make Keith look dumb, but in the light of recent and current events and the situation at hand, he doesn’t think Lance would pull off something like that.

“Lance? Lance, what’s wrong? Hey,” he asks, tentatively grabbing Lance’s shoulder and giving it a light shake. Or, he tries, sure, but the second his hand makes contact with Lance, the other boy reels back as if he’d just been shot, with a pained yelp to boot. He falls on his side, his hand coming to grab his shoulder and the other quickly going for his head, and Keith doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything as horrible as the thin, airy whimper that leaves Lance’s lips. He looks pale, very pale as he pulls his knees closer to his chest and curls up, and there’s a certain ashy hue to his skin that Keith doesn’t like one bit.

Lance’s body jerks exactly once on the floor and then he goes still, though he’s still trembling. He’s hurting, he’s hurting so bad and there’s a part of him that wants to scream in agony because that’s what he’s in right now, not pain but pure, raw agony and his shoulder is feeling more and more like it’s being ripped off. His head is going to explode, he thinks, he’s not really sure. He’s not really sure of anything anymore, except for the searing pain surging through him. There are black spots dancing in his vision, distorting and blurring and doing what they want and not what he wants them to do.

In the middle of not knowing, though, one thing makes itself very known. Whatever little he’s managed to put in his mouth in the past few days wants out and Lance, still on his side on the floor, gags and coughs up the measly contents of his stomach.

With a grimace on his face, Keith steps around the mess and carefully pulls Lance up to a half-sitting position to lean on him. Lance’s head settles lifelessly to the crook of Keith's neck. He’s still gripping his shoulder, but he’s also starting to shiver against Keith. From the awkward angle Keith can see that his eyes are half-lidded and hazy, and there’s a definite warmth of a fever to his skin against Keith’s neck.

Lance lets out a small, pathetic whimper and curls up, pressing further into Keith for warmth, but Keith doesn’t care right now - the most obvious problem right here and now is Lance’s shoulder which he’s still protecting, and he needs to do something about that. Keith sighs.

“Lance, I’m gonna need to get you to the sick bay. Can you help at all?” he asks, because he’s going to have a hard time getting Lance even off the floor if the boy is too out of it to cooperate. To his relief, tough, Lance’s arm starts fumbling for the wall for support. He mumbles something, too - incoherent and nearly inaudible, and Keith puts it down as an affirmation.

Getting to the sick bay is a pain, even though Keith can tell Lance is really trying. Allura and Coran both rush to help them the second they see Lance clinging to Keith and barely conscious. Shiro wakes up to the commotion and tries to get up to help, but somehow Lance manages to get his head up from Keith’s shoulder for long enough to say, “You’re sick, back to bed” as if he wasn’t about to pass out himself. Shiro complies, however - Lance, in all his unwellness and misery right now, somehow still manages to take command of the sick bay. It’s not like Shiro is in good condition, either.

The removal of Lance’s jacket and shirt reveals a minor scratch on his shoulder. A minor scratch that has now turned angry red, though, and the skin around it is swollen and feels hot to the touch. Keith tries his best to explain this thing called “infection” to Allura and Coran, who both seem uncomfortably intrigued by the human body and its immune response. Keith honestly wishes Lance would be unconscious right now, instead of being in pain. The more they prod and poke at his shoulder, the more distressed Lance’s airy whimpers sound and it makes something twist in Keith’s chest.

He gets his wish when they move on to clean the wound; Lance lets out a horrible shriek and then his eyes roll back and he goes slack. Keith’s heart jumps to his throat and he’s positive it misses a few beats, but Lance is still breathing when he checks. He takes a shuddering breath and goes to check on the others as Coran finishes with Lance’s shoulder and covers the wound gently.

“What happened?” Shiro asks Keith when the latter takes a seat next to him after things have calmed down. The scar on his face sticks out against his too-pale skin and his eyes are sunken, but he looks a lot better than two or three days ago.

“I mean, I guess he just forgot to take care of himself,” Keith sighs. “Because, you know, he was the only one who knew how to, uh, take care of other people, and, that stuff…” He trails off as he averts his eyes, more than a little ashamed for letting this happen in the first place. He’s also mad at Lance - for not letting Keith help, for getting injured in the first place, for taking bad care about himself and for being so goddamn self-sacrificial.

Later, when everyone else is asleep except for Keith, Lance wakes up to find the Red paladin next to him. The pain in his shoulder is significantly less intense than he remembers it being before he passed out, and although he’s still exhausted and in pain, he feels considerably better than he has in the past few days.

“-ith?” Lance manages to mutter through a scratchy throat and chapped lips. He watches as Keith starts and almost falls off the chair he’s sitting on and then scrambles to stand up.

“Lance!” Keith whisper-yells, relief taking over his features. It melts quickly, though, and is replaced by anger. “Don’t ever do that again,” he hisses. “What were you thinking?”

He’s upset, Lance thinks. Aloud he whispers, “Sorry,” and closes his eyes.

“Why’d you do that?” Keith then asks, tone softer than before. Concerned? Lance thinks for a second. But then, no, no, that’s Keith.

“Because Allura and Coran don’t know how humans work and, well, neither do you, really,” Lance answers, eyes still closed. “Someone had to make sure.” It’s silent for a moment.  Then, Keith opens his mouth again.

“You’re not making any sense.” Disbelief. “A toddler can follow instructions, Lance. Do you not trust me?”

This time, Lance goes silent. He doesn’t like the way Keith has posed the question, nor does he like the fact that he can’t just walk away from the situation. His head is too hazy to offer him any good excuses, but he doesn’t exactly feel like sharing his feelings with Keith of all people.

“It’s not that,” he finally sighs, turning his head away. “I just wanted to be useful.” It’s a quiet mumble and Lance hopes Keith didn’t hear it, really.

Of course he did.

“That’s it?” Now he sounds astonished. Lance doesn’t want to look at Keith. He wants this moment to go away and forget that it ever happened. He grits his teeth.

“What?” he asks, sharpening his tone. “It’s nice to feel useful sometimes.” Lance tries to blink away the tears that are starting to gather at the corners of his eyes. Here it is, out in the open - he’s useless everywhere else and he knows everyone is aware of this. They keep him around for God knows what reason. Maybe it’s pity, because honestly? He is kind of pitiful. Pathetic in all his inability to be useful. Taking care of others is the one thing he’s actually decent at.

“Y-you--” Keith stutters. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” He’s back to whisper-yelling instead of just whispering. “You actually think that-- you know what, never mind.” he then sighs. “I’m going to say this exactly once and we will never have this discussion again.” There’s no question for affirmation - it’s a statement, and a very final one at that, so Lance takes a deep breath and tries to listen.

“You’re, like, okay. You might not be the best in hand-to-hand combat. Don’t interrupt me,” Keith tells as Lance inhales like he’s about to say something sarcastic like jeez, thanks. “But have you ever watched any of us trying to shoot long-distance? That’s your thing. Or you can make people feel comfortable around you. I can’t do that. Proving your ‘usefulness’ or whatever doesn’t require not taking care of yourself!” Keith’s words are speeding up, now.

“And maybe I don’t get how you feel about this, but you’ll be just as useful telling people what to do. I don’t know what to do with sick people and neither do Allura and Coran, but telling us how to help is beneficial to everyone.” Lance can hear Keith’s fingers fidgeting. He’s still not looking, can’t bring himself to do it, but the pit of anxiety in his chest doesn’t feel as constricting as it did when Keith started questioning him.

“But yeah, now you’re no use to anyone since you’re down, too. How about next time you tell us what to do,” Keith grumbles. Then he falls silent.

Lance doesn’t know how long they stay quiet, but his eyelids are starting to feel heavy. His head is starting to pulsate again, and the longer he stays awake, the more his shoulder burns. Still, he feels lighter than he has in days.

“Thanks,” he breathes, startling Keith again. Keith’s voice sounds flustered when he answers.

“Just get better.”

[news-mashable-yahoopartner-blog]

Lessons from 'Chopped' with Ted Allen: The 15 most rage-inducing mistakes in the TV kitchen

Food Network's Chopped invokes a certain kind of screaming-at-your-TV-screen carnal energy — the baskets! the knife injuries! the leaving an ingredient off the plate when it's sitting RIGHT THERE! 

After 10 years and 40 seasons on the air, Chopped still delivers some of the most whiplash-inducing twists on television. Like say when host Ted Allen reads out a seemingly cohesive basket, only to have the last ingredient be something like pickle-flavored cupcakes. 

SEE ALSO: Why the '15-minute recipe' sets you up to fail

me yelling at the tv when i watch chopped pic.twitter.com/pW37XlkEej

— nicole ♡ (@suckernasa) March 1, 2018

In Chopped's world of televised culinary surprises, there are still a number of things that always go predictably wrong. As the host of Chopped, Ted Allen has stood front and center for just about every kitchen disaster you can imagine, so we asked him to dish on the most common mistakes made by chefs tackling the unforgiving beast that is a Chopped basket. 

"It’s a whole bunch of traps." Allen says. "It's nothing but traps." 

1. Whenever anyone attempts to make risotto in under 20 minutes. 

me whenever a Chopped contestant assures the viewer that they can and will make risotto in 30 minutes pic.twitter.com/pUYOTrS1QK

— elexus jionde. (@Lexual__) January 24, 2019

"Planning comes into play," Allen says. "Let’s say you’re in the appetizer round. It takes about 20 minutes to cook arborio rice. I’m not saying it’s impossible, but that’s probably not the best choice in round one."  

Not only does the chef have to constantly stir the arborio rice to cook it to the right consistency, but then they have zero time to do anything else creative. Risotto is a labor of love — ask any Italian nona! 

Lesson: The judges won't be happy with your undercooked rice. 

2. Trying to save face when the plates come out looking less than desirable. 

*watching chopped* "My plating is sloppy but I know my flavors are there" Me: pic.twitter.com/kJyl9XNvhv

— jojo (@BROCKSQUADD) August 2, 2017

Don't say it. Please don't say it. We know you're going to, and no one wants this, and yet here we are. You used the dreaded 'D' work. There it is...deconstructed. 

There are absolutely other words to describe the way the a dish looks. Maybe it's Rushed. Sloppy. Mismatched. But the word you're looking for is not the 'D' one, and it's certainly not the 'R' word either (Rustic). 

Time management is key here, or as Allen calls it, rational innovation. "We want you to do something creative, but you have to recognize the incredible limitations you’re up against."

Lesson: Take the time when plating (it's one-third of the judging criteria, after all) and be honest when the presentation isn't its best. 

3. Forgetting a basket ingredient. 

Okay, so...you know that feeling during the Big Game when the quarterback throws a perfect spiral, and the receiver is wide open, but he drops the ball anyway? Doesn't that make you tear your hair out?

No? You know when a chef forgets a basket ingredient? The camera zooms in, and it's sitting right there on the table? Same range of emotion. 

"We’ve almost never had a chef that didn’t get 4 plates made that are reasonably plausible," Allen says. "But we did have one guy who did plenty of cooking, but he just judged his time so poorly that he got nothing at all on except for three edamame on one plate. Yeah, that was a rough one." 

Lesson: It's not the end of the world. Someone else's dish could have literal raw bones and trash in it.

4. Trying to make ice cream during the dessert round. 

When the Chopped contestant goes to the ice cream machine pic.twitter.com/pVVJRoHoEb

— Lindsey Adler (@lindseyadler) June 1, 2018

Why would this go wrong? Everyone loves ice cream, right? But the other chef is inevitably going to be making an ice cream too — it's the easiest way to hide a funky ingredient, or showcase an ingredient with a milder flavor profile. But you can't ALL use the ice cream machine, people, it's just not possible. 

It's also a documented fact that there is purposefully only one ice cream machine, just for the chaos of it all. That's very Cutthroat Kitchen of you, Ted. 

Lesson: Make cookies or something. NOT ice cream.

5. Leaving bones, seeds, or otherwise hazardous material in the dish. 

One of the first rules new chefs learn is to taste their food as they go along. 

The hustle of the Chopped kitchen can cause even the most experienced of chefs to forget this tried and true rule. 

If the judges have to spend their precious time picking fish bones or seeds out of the dish, they will not be happy campers. For chefs that are unfamiliar with an ingredient, it's even more paramount to check and check again. Because something inedible might be left over. Or something possibly deadly (Fugu fish, anyone?)

Lesson: Taste it now. Taste it again. When in doubt, taste it. 

6. Trying to make bread pudding during the dessert round. 

me when the chopped contestant makes it all the way to the dessert round and then starts making a bread pudding pic.twitter.com/E7c9e6X99D

— generation loss (@shoegays) May 12, 2017

Bread pudding is such a popular dish during the dessert round, it might as well be made a requirement to win (please, no). 

The dish became so popular, Allen reveals that "we did have a ban on bread pudding for a while. But it seems to have been allowed to creep back in. It’s just that you don’t want a show where everybody always goes to that, so we kinda had to push people to be more creative and think of other approaches to things." 

The Chopped kitchen god himself has spoken. 

Lesson: Get creative, even if you're not a pastry chef. Make something no-bake! Elbow your opponent for the ice cream machine! Make some candy, anything! 

7. Not cleaning off the counter space. 

My feelings exactly.

Image: GIPHY

One thing Allen says that viewers rarely consider when thinking about the difficulty of the kitchen is the small counter space. Most of which, he says, is taken up by the 7 knives chefs are allowed to bring.  

"One pitfall that is often a giveaway [of who will be chopped] is people that don’t clean off their stations after they’ve done something, because of that lack of space. It’s always a good sign if somebody chops the onion, they put the chopped onion in a bowl, and then they clear off everything, and move on the next [task]." 

Lesson: A clean station denotes an organized chef. And if you don't believe Allen, Ratatouille makes a pretty great point.  

8. Calling anything with chocolate and chili a "mole." 

Every time a Chopped chef introduces a "mole," the judging table reacts with grace, but you can see it in their eyes: Your mole sits on a throne of lies. 

There's a wide variety of traditional mole sauces from different parts of Mexico, but the most ubiquitous kind typically includes roasted red chilis, nuts, spices such as coriander, cloves, and anise, and of course, chocolate. But very little chocolate is actually used, and it's added more like a spice. 

Lesson: Of course no one's going to be judging on complete culinary purity when the basket ingredients are a wild mix. But if you melt a Hershey's bar and put some cayenne in it, don't call it a mole. You will be in the wrong. 

9. Not planning out a dish before jumping into the cooking. 

This one is hard. According to Allen, chefs get, at most, a minute or two to think after they open the basket, and they certainly don't know what's in the basket beforehand. The four ingredients are often so wildly different (such as Korean short ribs, canned spaghetti, purple artichokes, and baby pineapple) that there's no obvious connection. 

"What often indicates that someone might do well is, instead of just jumping right in, taking a moment to plan. If you pointed to an 8-pound Peruvian leg of lamb, I mean I’ve literally seen people salt it and pepper it, then throw it in the oven whole before it occurred to them that, wait a minute, that’s never gonna work." 

Lesson: It's all about taking a second to think about what is doable before it's 5 minutes left and you have an inedible raw lamb. 

10. The goddamn siphon (aka the whipped cream canister).  

Why does this one piece of kitchen equipment never seem to work? It might just be that chefs don't typically come into contact with a siphon on a daily basis, now that we've moved beyond non-dessert 'foams' and 'whips' that dominated the trend of molecular gastronomy. Or it could just be cursed. 

Lesson: Shake it like a polaroid picture, or prepare to just see a spittle of sad sauce drip out. 

11. Throwing any of the basket ingredients on the plate at the last minute, or as a garnish.

http://crayola-colored-skeletons.tumblr.com/post/161837244904/if-you-use-a-basket-ingredient-as-a-garnish-on

Part of the beauty (and the challenge) of Chopped is to take four disparate ingredients and transform them into one cohesive unit. But the keyword here is transform. 

The chefs are under immense pressure, so it's easy to get all knees weak, arms spaghetti and forget a basket ingredient. But sometimes chefs will knowingly leave an ingredient to use at the last minute as a garnish. 

Where's the showmanship? The pizzaz? You are not dripping in any culinary finesse if you don't figure out a way to incorporate all the ingredients. 

Lesson: "Have the judgement to fit those mismatched pieces into a puzzle without masking them with too [sic] much with items from the pantry," Allen says. 

12. Relying too heavily on the pantry ingredients. 

Leaning heavily into the basket ingredients tends to score bigger points with the judges, however strange they might seem at first glance. You might not want to touch that black chicken, but at this point, what choice do you have?

Depending on what's given to the chefs, though, they might actually do worse the "better" the basket might seem. 

"When you’ve been given a basic basket — with a T-bone steak, and a sweet potato, and butter, and a carton of heavy cream — it seems like such a layup, but it almost seems like [the chefs] do the worst job when they don’t have enough of a challenge." 

Allen says that while something like pickled giblets might not be "the first thing you'd ask for," it might force chefs to get more creative. 

Lesson: You don't always get what you want, but you might just get what you need. 

13. Using rookie culinary techniques, such as adding truffle oil or a mint leaf. 

Why do we dislike truffle oil on #Chopped? Most is synthetic & contains no truffle. It’s strong, & tends to overwhelm a dish. It was trendy (a long time ago), & we don’t like trendiness. It feels pretentious, now—a cheap way to try to make a dish seem fancy.

— Ted Allen (@TheTedAllen) June 5, 2018

If a Chopped judge utters the words "why are they going to the pantry, oh god, there's only 30 seconds left," you know this isn't going to be good. 

Most of the time these last-minute additions are at best, superfluous, and at worse, ruin the integrity of the dish as a whole. The perfectionist anxiety to add ingredient upon ingredient in search of making your dish stand out is understandable. 

"I mean this in a positive way, a chef is generally a control freak," says Allen. "Someone who has a strong point of view, something that they want to say with food. On Chopped, we take away all of that control, all of it." 

Lesson: At a certain point, the dish is going to be what it is. And tossing something like truffle oil or saffron on top with five seconds left won't make your dish any fancier. 

14. Trying to hide your basket ingredient through the magic of blending. 

http://luvkurai.tumblr.com/post/165382319715/i-didnt-used-to-understand-why-people-got-so

Blending is the one technique that shows you're either the smartest person in the Chopped kitchen, or you have no idea what the hell is going on. 

Okay, sometimes there's really nothing left to do when there's a basket that's mostly normal, but has one giant curveball. In that case, feel free to hit the judges with some foot-long oversized gummy worm gastrique. 

Lesson: If the Chopped judges have to ask where you a put an ingredient, and the answer is "...it's in the sauce", perhaps the blender was not your best friend. 

15. Starting to cook ANYTHING, or plating, with less than a minute left. 

http://projectcatzo.tumblr.com/post/159772284409/ted-allen-one-minute-left-chopped-contestant

Hmm, I think my dish is missing something. Let me just whip up a little salad dressing real quick...oh, I should probably get my stuff on the plate too. How much time do I have left? 45 seconds? I got time!

Then, shockingly, they did not have time. And there is never really enough time. But as we've established, the secret ingredient to winning Chopped isn't necessarily killer cooking skills, it's killer time management.

Listen to Ted Allen on this one, kids: "If it’s going to take 20 minutes to make something, I might be able to pull off a ham sandwich. 20 minutes is nothing. It’s just nothing. Take a second to plan and realize that you’re gonna have to slice something smaller or make something that’s doable." 

Lesson: Don't do the culinary crime if you can't manage your kitchen time. 

me, with no professional experience, yelling @ chopped competitors when they burn anything or forget an ingredient pic.twitter.com/zMKbBk4gJT

— meg 🐉 (@n_agem) April 25, 2017

Sure, we'd love to think we know everything about goes down during Chopped's intense 20-30 minute rounds, but we're just Average Joes yelling about coulis and beurre blanc to a screen. The Chopped competition turns us all into pseudo-culinary experts, while perched on the sofa eating half-frozen chicken nuggets. 

Allen says that if you ever find yourself getting frustrated at the chefs, "set the clock to 20 minutes, and ask your wife or husband to take out four weird ingredients, and see how you do. 'Cause it could be an eye-opener for you." 

But that's the fun part! Chopped manages to show us a life lesson best expressed in Ratatouille:  Anyone can cook. And, just as important, anyone can think they can whip up a risotto in 20 minutes and fail miserably. 

"In this business, you’re only as good as the last plate you cooked. So the stakes are pretty high."

Ted Allen is right — the chopping block is a great, delicious equalizer. 

WATCH: A study of 'ultraprocessed foods' had some bleak results

[humerusimagines]

How would the UT Skelebros and US Skelebros reacting to their S/O dying (bonus: They see their S/O dying in front of them but do nothing to stop it)

Dang angst. I made this a little too long but hey angst makes me interested.

Date mate will be used at the gender Neutral term in some cases

Also sorry I haven’t been active, some of the asks aren’t within my reach of answering/writer’s doubt/block.

P.S Since @letshaveskeletonsoffun follows this blog (one of my favorite artists and secretsenpai) I’m going to try to make US Sans to their liking so I hope i get this right!

Undertale:

Sans: Depending on how you’re dying, he will have different levels of emotion. If it’s a sickness or an incurable disease, he’s going to stay by your side and calmly stroke your hair and whisper sweet nothings as you slowly drift to an eternal slumber. He’s going to stay with you for a while after you pass. He knows he has to accept it but when he hears your favorite song or plays your favorite game, he can’t help but remember you.

If there’s a reset, he acts as normal until he realizes that once the kid gets to the barrier, he’ll see you again. He almost rushes the kid to hurry up. (Unless it’s a genocide run of course.)

Once he sees your face, it’s like seeing an angel from heaven. You won’t understand it but he’ll always be trying to touch you to make sure you’re there.

If it was somebody else who killed you, however… that’s a completely different story.At first, he’ll be filled with rage wanting to crush the dirty date mate killer in an instant. He has two ideas:

1) He’s going to trap the killer into a room where they’ll slowly rot and leave them in isolation with food and a bucket.

2) He’s going to kill them slowly and painfully. They’re going to beg him to kill them after a few times.

Both ways, He’s going to carry your body bridal style and just walk with you. He’s going to tell you some stories he never got to tell you and will move the hair from you face. He walks until the stars are high in the sky, that’s when he finally breaks down and just holds you in his arms as your body hangs limply in his arms. He’s going to give you a nice burial where no one can bother you. He’ll visit you every night telling you stories and puns. He knows you’re listening wherever you are.

Papyrus: Poor baby is going to be shedding more tears than a waterfall. He’ll be at your side at all times unless he’s making you spaghetti, then he makes sure Sans is with you.

(Fun fact: when he’s insanely stressed he actually makes the spaghetti quickly so he doesn’t burn it and it’s surprisingly tasty and almost mouthwatering.)

Sans eventually goes out to get a heating pad and that’s when Papyrus hears your sweet but weak voice calling out to him.

“P-papy..rus?”

His head snapped to you immediately after capturing your delicate voice. He rushes to your side and grabs your hand in his.

“DATEMATE, ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

Of course, he’s checking every part of your body and then he feels the soft kiss you placed on his nasal bone as you smile and allowed your body to be taken by a never ending slumber.

He’s going to just fall apart. The moment Sans comes back, he just collapses in his brother’s arms. At the funeral, he leaves his scarf on your gravestone. Or if you were cremated, he keeps his scarf on top of the box filled with your ashes next to his action figure collection by his racecar bed.

If you were killed by somebody else, he might be traumatized with fear. He’ll try to stay optimistic and tell the human that it wasn’t nice but ultimately (*cough reluctantly cough*) challenges them to a duel.

Thankfully, Sans has his back and makes sure the killer loses. Once, the killer reaches 1 hp, Papyrus sighs but brings him to the garden shed. He provides food and water but can’t bring himself to do much else. Sans makes it so the human can’t escape and Papyrus will come in from time to time just asking questions to the human.

Why did they do it? What were they feeling? Do they regret it?

Poor Papaya.

Underswap:

Sans: He’s by your side at all times. He’s not leaving for a second. Stretch will get food and water for Blueberry and try to get him to rest but Blue isn’t going anywhere. At least he’s eating and drinking whatever Papy gives him.

Blueberry has basically everything you might need.

More blankets? Fluffed and ready.Clean water? Bottled or sparkling?A hug? He hasn’t let go of you since you’ve been unconscious.

He’s holding you so tight in his arms. He’s growing insanely tired and is weak from not moving or eating/drinking. He’s ready to fall into dreamland when your eyes swiftly open.

He immediately looks you straight in the face and starts sputtering incoherent phrases.

”(Y/N)?! DO YOU NEED WATER? FOOD? FEELING BETTER?“

He’s starting to tear up and is mumbling so many ‘I love you’s’ and how much you mean to him.

As you held his cheek and told him your final words, you left him with a last kiss and softly laid your head back down.

Blue stares at you for a second before sobbing loudly and yelling.

”(Y/N)! WAKE UP, WE HAVE TO TRAIN WITH ALPHYS. YOU HAVE TO TRY MY NEWEST TACO FLAVOR! W-W-WE WERE GOI-ING T-T-T-O GO SEE… napstabot.“

Paps heard Blue yelling and on the last note, Blue falls to his knees and breaks. You’re gone and he couldn’t save you.

If someone else harmed you, he slightly goes animalistic.

(*Personal headcanon is that Blueberry is a bit more maniacal than UT Paps, not enough to be a killer but more like he’s a little more aggressive when it comes to attacks.)

He’s continuously throwing bones and not even letting them catch their breath. Blue starts angrily crying and yells at the killer. What reason did the killer have to hurt his date mate?! Just as the killer is about to give up, Blue stops. Not only is he exhausted but he can’t hurt the killer. In his state, not only could he bring himself to even try to aim his attacks but also, he could never hurt another person. No matter how horrible. He knows he would just be even worse than the killer. Blue tells them he never wants to see them again and warns them that his brother doesn’t have as much mercy as him.

(Okay, I might’ve written the ending for Blue slightly more evil than I intended but like I see him childish so he would be having a sort of tantrum-like duel. Ah, I’m doubting it so I might fix it in the morning or might not? Idk what do you guys think? Senpai, help)

Papyrus: Stretch has his Undyne keep an eye on you and monitor your health as he stays twirling your hair and talking to you as you sleep. When he feels you move, he’s shocked still. The moment he realizes you don’t have long to talk, he hangs on to you every last word and breath. He’s listening intently as he adoringly stares into your eyes. He tells you all the things he never told you.

How much he loves you, how many kids he wanted, if he wanted a cat or a dog.

How he wants more time with you.

You’re both crying as your conversation becomes very meaningful until you drift off after saying goodbye to each other.

He hasn’t slept, eaten, or been sober since you were killed by that maniac. He reeks of weed and "magic honey” is dripping all over his sweater. As he approaches the killer, he almost looks joyful due to him being high. He stares down the killer and plays it cool with a menacing smile and a razor sharp glare. He knows what they’ve done. And their sins need to be atoned for.

Once his eye lights go out, it’s over before it even started.

Okay, it’s late and I’m feeling pretty angsty. This may be out of character, I don’t know , I’ll revise anything in the morning and I hope you guys like it?

~Mod Crystal

[quillquiver]

He’s only been walking for about a minute before something in the air changes. Frowning, Castiel Novak looks up from where he’s been watching his step to take a look at the copse of trees around him, shivering slightly against the wind. The rain has finally cleared to give way for sunset–gold light spilling across hill and rock. It’s beautiful in an ancient, abandoned sort of way… but something in the air has him alert and careful. 

This glen demands respect.

He pays special attention to his steps from then on, careful not to put his feet anywhere outside the marked paths. 

The more Castiel walks, the faster his heart beats and his body curls into itself, and suddenly, the nice Scottish man who picked him up on the side of the road and drove him to the fairie glen doesn’t seem so crazy.

“They’re there,” he’d said sagely, nodding up the road. “Ye canna see ‘em, but they are. And if they choose you, lad, well… ye best do whatever they want, because fairies are a fickle sort." 

Dunvegan, the faerie castle, is a big and imposing outcropping of rocks, and after seeing the old and new spirals on its other side, Cas carefully makes his way to the top. There are a couple of people making their way back down, and he nods to them as they pass. 

But to get to the top, he has to climb up a narrow passageway. He goes from thinking he can fit with his backpack, to being completely stuck.

When a couple of grunts and some shifting only manage to wedge him further, he gives up. 

"Fuck.”

And then a hand appears in his peripheral vision.

It’s pale, with calloused, freckled fingers and knuckles and a couple of braided leather bracelets adorning the wrist. Cas follows the equally freckled arm up to a white t-shirt and, quite frankly, beautiful face of a man.

He’s got brown hair and a perfect nose, with high cheekbones and a plush-looking mouth. The freckles that seem to cover the rest of him sweep across the bridge of his nose and apples of his cheeks in soft nebulae. Bright green eyes framed by long lashes look down at him expectedly, and Castiel is made aware of the fact that he’s been staring longer than socially acceptable.

“Uh…”

The man smiles.

Cas thanks the powers that be that he’s wedged between two rocks because he goes weak in the knees.

The man wriggles his fingers as if in invitation and Cas grabs hold, his own blue eyes widening when the man barely grunts and pulls his through. Though he gracefully steps back, Castiel ends up a pile on the ground. The man grins more widely and bites his lip. He's wearing a kilt.

Cas is a goner.

“Um–thank you. Thanks.” His face is on fire as he struggles to his feet.

The man merely nods and goes to sit on a nearby ledge, over-looking the sunset. 

Castiel takes this opportunity to explore. He walks to the edge of the castle and back, spending time just staring at the two spirals that are supposedly entrances to the faerie realm. The younger one is well-groomed and beautiful, with gifts dotting the stones laid out, while the older is overgrown and slowly disappearing in the grass. Cas stares at the latter and shivers. Still, he–noisily, despite the fact that he tries to keep quiet–takes his camera from his bag and snaps a picture. 

When he’s finished, he notices the man staring at him.

He’s even more beautiful backlit by the sun, and Cas takes a minute to get himself together before carefully approaching the other and pointing to the place beside him. “Can I sit?”

The man stares.

Brow furrowing, Castiel tilts his head to the side in thought before his eyes widen once more and his cheeks flush in further embarrassment. Immediately, he repeats his question, this time signing along as best he can remember from the one ASL class he took in college. 

The man raises a brow. “’M not deaf.”

Cas suddenly wishes the earth will open up and swallow him whole. His face turns bright red with both his mistake and the gorgeous way words roll off the man’s tongue, and he scrambles to untie his own in order to answer. “I am so sorry.”

“No trouble,” the man says. His green eyes look Castiel up and down in a way that makes his heart race. “Y'gonna come'n sit, or…?”

Cas has never moved so fast. 

He clumsily falls into the seat beside the man, apologizing again when he jostles him. 

“So, y’re a tourist?”

Castiel nods. “I’m from the States.”

“American.” The man whistles. “Y’re a mite far from home, arentcha?”

“I’m working in a hostel,” Cas explains. “In Kyleakin? It’s called the Skye Backpackers. I’m their new receptionist but I start next week, so I’m hitchhiking around the island to get a feel for it.”

“Seems like a good living,” the man nods. “I think I’d like to see America. All of it, not just the United States part.”

“Well, if you ever end up in Illinois, let me know.”

“Cheers.”

Cas licks his lips during the lull in conversation and clears his throat. “Are you from Skye? Or somewhere else in Scotland?" 

A sad, resigned sort of smile steals across the man’s face. "I’m from right here,” he eventually sighs.

“Oh, you live in one of the farm houses nearby?”

But instead of answering, the man flashes a smile and offers his hand. “I’m Dean.”

The change in topic is a little unorthodox, but Cas is too distracted by the fact that he has a name. Dean. It suits him.

“Castiel,” the other replies in kind. They shake hands, and Cas’s fingers tingle all the way up his arm and to his shoulder. “Everyone calls me Cas.”

“Cas,” Dean repeats. “Tha’s a good name.”

“Thanks. So’s Dean.” A beat. “You just came up here for the sunset?”

“Somethin’ like that, yeah. You?”

“A couple of people told me to come here because it’s so beautiful. A couple people also told me to stay away because of the faeries." 

“The faeries,” Dean hums. "Did ye hear the stories?”

“A couple. I heard about the bagpiper who was approached by the faerie king to play at one of his parties, but who was reluctant to leave his family especially because he’d promised to play at a friend’s wedding. But when faeries ask you for something you do it, so he went to the faerie realm and played until really late. When he asked to go home, the King allowed it but said things would never be the same once he went back. When he arrived back home, it was hundreds of years later and everyone he’d known and loved had died, because the King failed to tell him about the fact that a second in the faerie realm was a hundred years in his reality.”

“Mm,” Dean says, staring at the horizon. “Faeries can be tricky.”

“I also heard about the girl who came here a couple of years ago and when into the cave on the ridge.”

“There’s a nasty thing lives in there.”

“Yeah. Apparently, she got back to her hostel, went to bed, and woke up screaming in the middle of the night swearing something was trying to choke her.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

There’s another lull, and Cas bites his lip. He takes another picture just to do something with his hands, but quickly abandons the endeavour when Dean stares at him while he does it. Swallowing thickly, with sweating palms and a racing heart, Castiel decides to throw caution to the wind. After all, he’ll probably never come back to this part of Skye after this weekend. 

“So, um, do you have any plans for supper?”

Now, Dean’s smile widens to something slightly predatory. “Why?” he smirks. “Y'want'a share a meal?”

Cas blushes. “I have too many groceries and an empty airbnb so, yeah,” he says, sounding far more cocky than he feels. “I think I’d be willing to try my hand at Scottish hospitality.”

Dean laughs, and it’s probably the best sound Castiel has ever heard. “So I won’ have t'worry 'bout bein’ murdered, is that’ what y’re saying?”

A grin. “Murder is definitely off the table.”

“Then lead the way, Cas from America.”

***

It takes them fifteen minutes to get back to Cas’s cottage. Their otherwise forty-five minute walk is cut down almost to nothing due to a kind young woman picking them up and dropping them off at Castiel’s rented cottage. 

Once inside, Cas opens a couple of beers and hands one over, taking a swig himself and licking his lips. “Are you okay with pasta? I’ve got a bottle of white I should really use.”

Den’s excitement is so palpable the air almost crackles with it, and Castiel feels himself start to smile as well. The thing widens impossibly when the other man leans casually against the wall and clears his throat. “That seems—that’ll be fine.”

Castiel makes pasta carbonara.

He’s finishing off the sauce and about to put the spaghetti in to boil when he feels Dean off to his side. This isn’t new–for the majority of their time in the kitchen, the other man has been looking over Cas’s shoulder inquisitively. This time, however, Dean’s entire body is pressed up against his back and he’s got a grounding hand on Castiel’s hip. 

Cas almost burns himself. 

"Smells good,” Dean murmurs. 

Castiel squeaks.

“M’I makin’ ye nervous?” the other asks against his ear. Cas can feel him smiling and bites the inside of his cheek. There’s a beat. “Because if I am,” Dean continues. His thumbs begin to caress the t-shirt-covered skin of Castiel’s hips. “Ye need only tell me to stop.”

In answer, Castiel leans back into the touch.

***

“So, how’re ye likin’ Scotland?”

They’re seated on the back porch’s hanging swing, lantern lit on the coffee table directly in front of them. Empty plates and wine glasses are strewn across the table, with the finished wine bottle sitting as centrepiece among the carnage.

Cas looks lazily down to where Dean’s cuddled up against him. He smiles. “I love Scotland.”

“Oh, do ye?” Dean laughs.

“Mm. Very much.”

There’s a lull in the conversation, then, broken only by the sound of Dean licking his lips. Castiel isn’t entirely sure who initiates after that, but soon he and Dean are tangled up on the swing, kissing lazily.

It’s the best kiss Cas has ever had; warmer than anything else he’s ever felt, like a shot of whiskey warming him from the inside out. It only takes about another minute for Castiel to clue into the fact that the tingling he feels in the wake of Dean’s fingertips and lips is definitely not normal.

To the other’s protests—mm! one more wee kiss, please—Cas pulls away with a small ‘pop’ and stares, wide-eyed. “You’re… not human, are you?”

Dean shakes his head, much too pre-occupied with the sweetness of Castiel’s mouth to do anything but lean in again. Cas reciprocates, but only barely.

He’s kind of freaking out about the fact that he’s not freaking out.

“So, you’re a… faerie?”

This time Dean leans back with a small, hesitant nod. “The first of my name.”

“You’re a king,” Castiel says faintly.

“Close,” Dean amends. “A crown prince.”

Cas makes some sort of strangled noise in the back of his throat, climbing off of Dean and sitting, eyes locked on the wine bottle.

“Ehm, can I get ye somethin’?” Dean asks considerately. “Glass o’water, maybe? A pint? Some whiskey so all this seems like a bad dream?”

"Why were you out there, anyway?”

“Ah, y’know,” the other answers, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I’m not so keen on the prince thing.”

This is something Castiel can relate to—after all, hating his circumstances is why he left Illinois in the first place. “So what,” Cas smiles. “You prowl around Dunvegan looking for unsuspecting tourists?”

“Hey now, if I remember correctly, you, sir, were the one who invited me here.” His voice turns guarded now. “And ye promised ye wouldn’t murder me.”

Cas weighs the pros and cons of his situation for approximately two seconds before leaning in and pressing a plush kiss to Dean’s mouth. “No one,” he says against the other’s lips. “Is getting murdered.”

Dean grins.

***

The next morning, Castiel walks Dean to the door of his cottage with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He has a crick in his neck from sleeping on the porch swing all night, but given the choice, he’d do it again.

“Can I see you again?” Dean asks. “Tonight?”

“I’d like that.”

***

And so begins the rumoured tale of romance between a human and a faerie.

[scoutess-blog]

Summer Project

Tasks

Once I was accepted into graphics course, the class was set a task to introduce us to our first new topic. Which was poetry. To help us get stuck into the tasks we were first asked to look at some poets: Sylvia, Walt Whitman, Eminem and many others. 

Sylvia - Lady Lazarus

I have done it again.   One year in every ten   I manage it—— A sort of walking miracle, my skin   Bright as a Nazi lampshade,   My right foot A paperweight, My face a featureless, fine   Jew linen. Peel off the napkin   O my enemy.   Do I terrify?—— The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?   The sour breath Will vanish in a day. Soon, soon the flesh The grave cave ate will be   At home on me And I a smiling woman.   I am only thirty. And like the cat I have nine times to die. This is Number Three.   What a trash To annihilate each decade. What a million filaments.   The peanut-crunching crowd   Shoves in to see Them unwrap me hand and foot—— The big strip tease.   Gentlemen, ladies These are my hands   My knees. I may be skin and bone, Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.   The first time it happened I was ten.   It was an accident. The second time I meant To last it out and not come back at all.   I rocked shut As a seashell. They had to call and call And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls. Dying Is an art, like everything else.   I do it exceptionally well. I do it so it feels like hell.   I do it so it feels real. I guess you could say I’ve a call. It’s easy enough to do it in a cell. It’s easy enough to do it and stay put.   It’s the theatrical Comeback in broad day To the same place, the same face, the same brute   Amused shout: ‘A miracle!’ That knocks me out.   There is a charge For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge   For the hearing of my heart—— It really goes. And there is a charge, a very large charge   For a word or a touch   Or a bit of blood Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.   So, so, Herr Doktor.   So, Herr Enemy. I am your opus, I am your valuable,   The pure gold baby That melts to a shriek.   I turn and burn. Do not think I underestimate your great concern. Ash, ash— You poke and stir. Flesh, bone, there is nothing there—— A cake of soap,   A wedding ring,   A gold filling. Herr God, Herr Lucifer   Beware Beware. Out of the ash I rise with my red hair   And I eat men like air.

I particularly enjoy this poem as I feel it has a lot of history and emotion to the point that I feel like I know the person well enough, like I can see her life through her own eyes in just one poem. It uses many illustrative words and phrases to create a very clear picture, almost like a movie. Personally, the poem is a extraordinary piece of work as even though the topic is extremely morbid it almost gives way to a hopeful ending. It uses no rhymes, long phrases or even heavy descriptions. Yet, it can communicate powerful, emotional feelings through single words or small phrases. Especially, once I read it out loud. 

Walt Whitman - One’s-Self I sing

One’s-Self I sing, a simple separate person, Yet utter the word Democratic, the word En-Masse. Of physiology from top to toe I sing, Not physiognomy alone nor brain alone is worthy for the Muse, I say the Form complete is worthier far, The Female equally with the Male I sing. Of Life immense in passion, pulse, and power, Cheerful, for freest action form’d under the laws divine, The Modern Man I sing.

This poem is much shorter than the previous one but uses longer and more complex words and phrases. I believe the poem is communicating the fact that even if society dictates whom is stronger, worthier he will not bend to them as all are equal in life with their own choices. He has freedom of speech as is the modern way. The changes that were currently happening during the time the poem was written. 

Eminem - Lose Yourself

Look, if you had, one shot, or one opportunity To seize everything you ever wanted. In one moment Would you capture it, or just let it slip? Yo His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy There's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready to drop bombs, But he keeps on forgetting what he wrote down, The whole crowd goes so loud He opens his mouth, but the words won't come out He's choking how, everybody's joking now The clock's run out, time's up, over, blaow! Snap back to reality. Oh, there goes gravity Oh, there goes Rabbit, he choked He's so mad, but he won't give up that Easy, no He won't have it, he knows his whole back's to these ropes It don't matter, he's dope He knows that but he's broke He's so stagnant, he knows When he goes back to his mobile home, that's when it's Back to the lab again, yo This whole rhapsody He better go capture this moment and hope it don't pass him [Hook:] You better lose yourself in the music, the moment You own it, you better never let it go (go) You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow This opportunity comes once in a lifetime (yo) You better lose yourself in the music, the moment You own it, you better never let it go (go) You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow This opportunity comes once in a lifetime (yo) (You better) The soul's escaping, through this hole that is gaping This world is mine for the taking Make me king, as we move toward a new world order A normal life is boring, but superstardom's close to postmortem It only grows harder, homie grows hotter He blows. It's all over. These hoes is all on him Coast to coast shows, he's known as the globetrotter Lonely roads, God only knows He's grown farther from home, he's no father He goes home and barely knows his own daughter But hold your nose 'cause here goes the cold water His hoes don't want him no more, he's cold product They moved on to the next schmoe who flows He nose dove and sold nada So the soap opera is told and unfolds I suppose it's old partner, but the beat goes on Da da dum da dum da da da da [Hook] No more games, I'mma change what you call rage Tear this motherfucking roof off like two dogs caged I was playing in the beginning, the mood all changed I've been chewed up and spit out and booed off stage But I kept rhyming and stepped right into the next cypher Best believe somebody's paying the Pied Piper All the pain inside amplified by the Fact that I can't get by with my 9 to 5 And I can't provide the right type of life for my family 'Cause man, these goddamn food stamps don't buy diapers And it's no movie, there's no Mekhi Phifer, this is my life And these times are so hard, and it's getting even harder Trying to feed and water my seed, plus Teeter totter caught up between being a father and a primadonna Baby, mama drama's screaming on her Too much for me to wanna Stay in one spot, another day of monotony's gotten me To the point, I'm like a snail I've got to formulate a plot or I end up in jail or shot Success is my only motherfucking option, failure's not Mom, I love you, but this trailer's got to go I cannot grow old in Salem's lot So here I go it's my shot. Feet, fail me not This may be the only opportunity that I got [Hook] You can do anything you set your mind to, man

Eminem is one of my favourite rap artists because he makes all of his songs realistic since it is usually what is going in his life at the time. however, they still seem to relate to everyone like this song as it speaks to people about not missing your chance at life. The language is mainly modern slang but is easily understood and much easier to rhyme with. When I tried to speak it out loud it didn't really sound as good as the original as I found it difficult to just speak it when it should be rapped. 

Step Right Up

For the second task our main objective was create some poetry verses based on advertising, signs and pictures that are around shops and roads. The task is based off from the song “STEP RIGHT UP” from 1977. Honestly, it is not to my taste but is certainly catchy and made it much easier to create verses by using the song as a reference. 

Leave it to dame

Touch you must pay

Only £1

To make a house a home

Spend it all to get it all

Because you’re worth it

I’m lovin’ it

Every little helps

Maybe she’s born with it

Just do it

Karaoke Poetry

Task 3 was slightly more difficult as we had many more choices of content since we had to use our top 10 favourite songs. I chose my favourite songs first then i cost songs that a similar theme like genre or just the topic.

Once  I chose my favourite songs I listened and picked out my favourite lyrics so I could have a variety of choices for the poem as the lyrics could be mixed to create differently themed poems. 

1. Take It Out On Me

-Thought i had it under control

-You wanted it to be picture perfect 

-You don’t have to throw it away

-Just let it go

-Take it out on me

2.Stressed Out

-Nw I’m insecure and i care what people think

-My name’s blurry face and I care what you think

-Wish we could turn back time 

3.Superhero

-Hands up if you’re ready for the fight

-I don’t need you to believe in me

-I know how to change my destiny

-We can change the whole world 

-Tell me that you’re in it

-Don’t you wanna be a superhero

4.Nicotine

-You’re worse than nicotine

-I’ve lost control and I don’t want it back

-Just one more hit then we’re through

5.Satellite

-You have to cross the line

-I’m passing over you like a satellite

-So shine your light on me

-It’s not too late, we have the rest of our lives

-This is the life you can't deny us now

6.Immortals

-They say we are what we are

-I’m bad behaviour but I do it in the best way

-I’ll be the guard dog of your fevered dreams

-Cause we could be immortals

-I am the sand at the bottom of the hour glass

-Pull the black out curtains now

7.I miss the Misery

-I miss the misery

-I’ve been a mess since you stayed

-i’ve been a wreck since you changed

-I’ve tried but i just can’t take this

-I’d rather fight than just fake it

-Don’t let me get in your way

8.The Resistance

Am a soldier, I won’t surrender

-Who’s gonna stand up, who's gonna fight

Heavy as a hurricane, louder than a freight train

-Heart beating faster, feels like thunder

9.Blood

-And rid myself of all my sin

-I swear I have sense

-We will gain nothing from this

-If you come closer I will lose control

-Cause you’ve been asking for it

10.X Gon’ Give To It Ya

-It’s what hearing, listen

-X gon’ give it to ya

-Fuck waiting for you to get it on your own

-I’ll do it again cos I’m right

-Ain’t never gave anything to me

By inserting the key phrases I found it easier to complete a poem and I experiment with different orders.

Poems

CONTROL UNCHAINED

Thought I had it under control

I don’t need you to believe in me

Now I’m insecure and I acre what people think

I’ve lost control and I don’t want it back

I’m passing over you like a satellite

I’m bad behaviour but I do it in the best way

I’d rather fight than just fake it

Heavy as a hurricane, louder than a freight train

If you come closer I will lose control

There is a beast inside, breaking free

[Insert photo sketches]

IMPERFECT TIME

They say we are what we are

You wanted it to be picture perfect

You can change the whole world

We will gain nothing from this

It’s not too late, we’ve have the rest of our lives

Don’t let me get in your way

You’re worse than nicotine

Ain’t never gave nothin’ to me

Heart beating faster, feels like thunder

Wish we could turn back time

DEATH’S DOOR

I’ve tried but I just can’t take it

Take it out on me

I swear I have sense

Am a soldier, I won’t surrender

I am the sand at the bottom of the hour glass

Its what your hearing, listen

Tell me that you’re in it

Wish we could turn back time

Just one more hit, then we’re through

This is the life you can’t deny us now

ME X YOU

You don’t have to throw it away

Now I’m secure and I care what people think

I know how to change my destiny

I’ve lost control and I don’t want it back

You have to cross the line

Pull the black out curtains now

I miss the misery

Who’s gonna stand up, who’s gonna fight

Cause you’ve been asking for it

X gon’ give it to ya

Evaluation/ Reflection 

When I first looked at the starting brief I was surprised about the topic since it was not something I previously associated with graphics. however, once I started completing the tasks it became more obvious that the point of the brief was to introduce us to the relationship between text and image. A graphic artist is not only someone who creates art pieces on the computer but instead communicates through their artwork with a message. Whether that is from product design, advertising or simply creating a comic.