#and immediately forgot what terrible asthma I have

[fightingwithallreality]

Both my sisters bought wedding dresses.

I move in five days.

The anxiety is not good tonight, boys

[frvnkcastles]

hiii!! i hope you're okay ❤️ so i was thinking of a frank x reader where she's asthmatic but hasn't had an attack for a long time, so they're watching a movie and she has a very strong attack and he helps her and comforts her.

thank you, i love the way you write ❤️❤️❤️❤️

FEEL THE RUSH ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You have an asthma attack, and Frank is there to help.

Warnings: Asthma attack, language

Word count: 1k

Author’s note: Anon I’m so sorry it took me so long to get to this! Thank you so much for your kind words, I hope you enjoy this <3

Maybe you had been foolish to sink into the false sense of hope and security — maybe you had been foolish to think another attack simply wasn’t going to rear its head and you could live your life without care or worry about the air in your lungs.

Truthfully, it was something you always had to deal with, always a part of your daily routine that you had just grown accustomed to. Being asthmatic could be a real pain in your ass, but for the most part, it was manageable. For the past months, you had been spared of an attack, and you almost forgot how constricting and terrible it could be.

You liked to think your sudden lack of symptoms had something to do with the man by your side. He seemed to make everything better, after all. You had been friends for a long time, but a few months back, he had taken the plunge and kissed you — with caution, as not to take your breath away entirely. He had worked backwards, first cradling your face in his massive hands and clashing his perfect lips against yours, noses brushing together as he handled you with ease and effortlessness… and only after, he shyly backed away, wondering out loud if you’d do him the honor of joining him for a date. He had enchanted you entirely and you had agreed in a heartbeat, and ever since then, you had been inseparable.

He spent a lot of time at your apartment, and it already felt like he belonged there, like he was what turned it from a house into a home. You were completely comfortable with the burly, hulking man who fixed your furniture and learned the contents of your kitchen cabinets in an effort to cook you dinner even without asking. In fact, you were head over heels for him and his tendency to always have his hands all over you, sometimes in a protective manner, sometimes hungry and needy to feel your body under his calloused fingertips. He made every day a dream come true, heaven on earth, and you couldn’t have been more grateful.

So, it was easy to forget about your health concerns. He was the concerned one, always looking out for you and making sure you were alright, and you were just happy to have him.

But of course, bliss could only last so long, and you were pulled back into reality on a seemingly uneventful Friday evening, your body nestled against Frank’s with his strong arms around you and your fingers drawing patterns on the back of his cut-up hand. It was all so domestic, something he never thought he’d have again, and in that moment, you were both undoubtedly content.

It started out with a wheeze, a shallow attempt to inhale air into your system. Frank was immediately alerted, well-aware of your condition, and with a cocked eyebrow, he pushed himself off of the soft cushions enough to give you a knowing look full of worry and willingness to jump into action.

”I’m okay”, you managed, but he didn’t settle back into the couch, only continued to observe you, and his instincts proved to be right — in the next second, panic erupted on your face and you felt the familiar, suffocating grip, making it difficult for you to breathe. Your chest tightened and you burst into a fit of coughs, sitting up while struggling to haul air into your lungs.

Without a word, Frank got up from the couch. ”Where’s your inhaler, sweetheart?” he asked with a clear and firm voice, trying to stay calm and rational as he quickly glanced around the living room.

”The—the bedroom?” you theorized, silently cursing yourself for neglecting your inhaler. It had been months since you had had a full-blown attack, and days since you had needed to prevent smaller symptoms with the device, and in the rush of the moment, it was hard to think back to where you had left it.

Frank wasted no time, making his way to the bedroom

where you heard him ransack every nook and cranny. You tried to control your wheezing and regain composure, but it seemed the symptoms were only getting worse with every passing second, and it became blatantly obvious that the inhaler alone was going to offer any relief. It scared you, the thought of it being utterly lost, but before you could start panicking any further, Frank was running back to your side.

”Got it. Fucker was in the bedside table”, he announced gruffly, seating himself next to you on the couch while handing over the inhaler. As you desperately brought it up to your mouth, Frank caressed your cheek and wiped astray strands of your hair behind your ear. ”It’s okay, baby. It’s gonna be better soon”, he spoke with reassurance, swallowing thickly as he watched you slowly get the upper hand.

As you began breathing easier, he smiled, the feeling of being useless subsiding. He hated not being able to help, even if realistically he knew there was nothing else he could do. ”Attagirl. You did so good, sweetheart”, he praised you, leaning in to kiss your temple before lowering his face to your level to meet your stare. ”Feelin’ better?” his voice was soft as he addressed you, care in every word.

You nodded, the panic in you melting away as you gripped the inhaler with a vice-like hold. ”I’m never losing track of this thing again”, you grumbled, making Frank chuckle as he gently pulled you into his arms and stroked your back.

”Y’know I hate bein’ so fuckin’ useless. Just wanna make it better for you”, he lamented, and with a tender smile, you hugged him tight.

”You’re not useless. I would’ve been screwed if I had to start looking for the inhaler myself”, you reminded, and supposing you were right, Frank nodded.

”Fair ’nuff, sweetheart. Lemme know if you ever need anythin’ else from me, aight? I’m here for ya”, he swore, and full of love for the man and his big heart, you withdrew from his embrace just enough to place a careful kiss right on his lips. He returned the fervor, greedily kissing you back, almost losing his cool as he ached for more of you.

”Thanks, Frankie. You’re my hero”, you grinned, half-joking, and with a snort, he rolled his eyes.

”You’re your own hero, pretty girl. ’M just the lucky asshole who gets to admire you in all your glory.”

[abundanceofnots]

Ficlet idea: Now that Mickey’s using kevs gym he’s been giving guys tips from his prison workouts. Ian is NOT happy about the level of attention he gets when he stops by one day

(You can read this fic here, or on AO3.)

So, the KevFit membership was still a thing. Cool.

And, okay, listen. It wasn’t that Ian minded Mickey going to the gym. Of course, he didn’t. It was just the way this whole thing came to be that Ian wouldn’t call ideal.

Mickey liked to say Ian body-shamed him into working out, and frankly, Ian could see why he would.

They gave each other shit all the time. Laughed about hairy toes, prodded at each other’s saggy parts. And when they were both in the right headspace, it was just that—provoking banter. But Mickey, being the sensitive creature that he was, sometimes took it too close to heart.

And yeah, maybe Ian nagged him a few too many times about staying healthy after the lockdown started when Mickey’s only method of balancing out his liquid beer diet was riding Ian’s dick. But by then, it felt like they’d been occupying the same 1x1 bedroom for years, so it wasn’t exactly Ian’s fault.

If Mickey decided to go about it this way, great. Seriously. It only meant that Ian didn’t need to worry about getting his knuckles bruised anytime soon. And while he secretly mourned the loss of Mickey’s soft belly, he wasn’t going to complain. Not when Mickey looked the way he did now.

The thought was on Ian’s mind again that morning while he brushed his teeth over the bathroom sink, using the time on his hands to watch his husband in the mirror as he showered.

The curtain was only partially closed, just enough so that Mickey wasn’t splashing water around the tub while still leaving space for Ian to see him.

And boy, did he see him.

His broad shoulders. His arms stretching as he ran his hands through his wet hair. The dimples on his back. The marks Ian left on his ass when they fucked earlier.

When Mickey turned off the shower and stepped out of the tub, Ian found himself drawn to the little water droplets sliding over the Ian Galager tattoo and down his pecs, his abs, the V shape of his hips, and into his pubes.

Ian only realized he entirely forgot to move the toothbrush in his mouth when one corner of Mickey’s mouth curled into a teasing smirk.

“The fuck are you looking at?” Mickey asked, sounding smug as hell as he reached for his towel.

“Definitely not your ugly mug.”

Coming out all muffled, Ian’s words lost some of their intended edges. He angled himself back to the sink and spat.

“You have the tits of a 12-year-old girl,” he added quickly like there was a five-second rule for when you could still save your diss. He looked up just in time to see Mickey scrunch his face in mild outrage.

“Fuck off, these are C cups at least.”

“Like you're such an expert on those.”

Ian let out a low yelp as Mickey unexpectedly smacked his back, right around where his Monica tattoo was.

“Well, they're not your mom's tits, that's for sure,” Mickey noted through a sneer.

He then went back to drying himself, and Ian allowed himself to openly gawk at his slightly misty reflection again.

Several mechanical strokes of his toothbrush later, the thought came back, clouding his mind with an ugly feeling.

The intuitive thing would be to push it back and pretend like everything was okay, but they were married now and told each other shit, right? He had to say something.

“Going to the gym again today?” Ian asked eventually, trying to come off as noncommittal as he could with his mouth full and his eyes trained on the drain.

Obviously, he didn’t mind getting horny over his buff husband. No, the actual reason Ian was so bothered about all this was that other people now had free reigns to get horny over him as well.

You see, since Mickey started paying Kev’s gym his regular visits, he’d managed to attract a flock of followers. Fucking fans.

That, at least, was what Ian called them. Mickey, of course, didn’t see it like that. For him, they were paying customers.

“It’s easy money, man. And the crowd’s gettin’ bigger and bigger every week.” Mickey looked pleased as he wrapped the towel around his hips. “Anyway, it’s not like I have to do much. Most of the time, I just do my thing, and the bunch of ‘em stare at my ass.”

Ian bent forward and spat.

“So basically, they pay to jerk off your ego,” he pointed out, slumping his shoulders to show how totally unimpressed he was by that notion.

“’Xactly. And maybe something else, too.”

Mickey’s cackle followed him out into the hallway as he left Ian alone in the bathroom.

---

It was clearly a joke. A nasty joke that was supposed to leave a sting, but there was absolutely no need for Ian to worry. And he kept telling himself that all day—right until the moment he entered the badly-lit backroom of the Alibi and found himself in the company of a pack of Northsiders in designer label gym clothes.

Before he could spot Mickey anywhere among them, some blond guy in what seemed like an uncomfortably too tight a tank top came to his side.

„Looks like we have a newcomer in our midst.” The guy clicked his tongue, giving Ian an blatant once-over. “You here for the Mickeffect?”

„The what?“

„The Mickeffect. That’s what we call this class. Unofficially, of course, because the class is sorta kinda unofficial, too.” At that, he sniggered, which Ian immediately found annoying. “3pm, every Tuesday and Thursday. You from the Facebook group?”

Ian resisted the urge to scoff. “Uh, no.”

“Just lucky coincidence, then? Well, since you’re already here, I think you’re gonna enjoy yourself. The dude who leads this class is ex-con, so he knows all the right ways to abuse the body if you know what I mean.”

Clenching his fists inside the pockets of his sweatpants, Ian smiled politely and nodded. He wasn’t going to give this blond douchebag the satisfaction and punch him in the face. Not yet, at least.

“Hot as hell, too. And man, that ass. Simply de-licious. The whole thing actually only went off after I posted a video of him doing squats. Got 50k views in a day, a whole article on PinkNews a week later. The title was The Ex-con Hunk Who Makes Chicagoans Sweat Like Crazy – And Then Tells Them Off. Funny.”

The guy shrugged in this wannabe innocent you know how it is way. Ian was relieved to realize he really, really didn’t.

“We get new people all the time, but the return rate is terrible,” Blond Douchebag continued, amazingly. “Most of the boys come for Mickey but then leave with someone else. Maybe you’ll get lucky here, too.”

“I’m married,“ Ian retorted, hoping it would be enough to make him stop talking.

But Blond Douchebag didn’t even blink. “Yeah, so are some of the guys here. And he is, too, but I don’t think he’s the typa guy who would be deterred by that.“

Careful there, pal, Ian thought. Or you might find your pretty face landing very unprettily on a beer keg.

“Oh, hey!“

The familiar voice came out of nowhere, prematurely ending Ian’s plans to show this complete dickwad the practical meaning of the word concussion.

His head snapped to his right where Mickey was now standing, his eyes carefully roaming over Ian. There was a softness in them for a moment before his whole face morphed into a smirk.

„Came to learn something from the expert?” he teased.

Ian clenched his jaw. “Something like that.”

As Mickey moved past them, Blond Douchebag gave Ian a sly wink.

---

Ian wasn’t sure what kind of problems the snooty Northsiders could possibly be dealing with in their private lives, but this whole thing seemed to have almost therapeutical effects on them.

Mickey called them Ansel Elgort (not a compliment) or White Kanye West (also not a compliment) while he listened to their crap, and they giggled like teenage girls. He yelled at them for being pussies, and they were only a touch away from popping a boner. It made zero fucking sense.

And Mickey, well. The dickhead was so clearly giving them an upgraded version to his usual performance. Biting his bottom lip all the time. Flexing his muscles a little too hard. Grabbing everyone’s attention by letting out these exaggerated grunts.

Ian officially reached his bullshit limit when Mickey finished off a set of pull-ups and promptly took his shirt off to wipe his face. The way everything around him seemed to come to a stop for a hot minute had Ian’s eyes rolling.

It was totally ridiculous. Were these guys really so desperate?

Getting a better grip on the skipping rope he was using, Ian caught Mickey watching him, his brows arched, the dare behind them so plain and obvious.  

And yeah, okay, asshole. Two could play this game.

“You know what,” Ian started out loud so everyone could hear him. He let the rope fall to his feet and instead tugged his own shirt off. “We did things a little differently in the army.”

His grin widened when he heard one of the guys audibly gulp.

---

“Fifty!”

“One hundred!”

“Fuck off, you can’t do one hundred push-ups in one go.”

“With one hand behind my back.”

Maybe kneeling on the feet of two wheezing guys doing sit-ups wasn’t the best time to have a whispered shouting match with your husband, but honestly, Ian couldn’t give two shits. Mickey was seriously pissing him off—and like hell was he going to let him win. Even if it was just this one petty argument.

“You need stamina when you’re the top. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to do all the fucking work while the bottom just lies there.”

“Oh, oh, please! Tell us more about your workouts in the army. Was this before or after you tried to run away from there by stealing a damn helicopter?”

They were suddenly aware that their periphery vision got surprisingly still. Almost in tandem, they looked down at the alarmed expressions of their trainees.

“Did I fuckin’ tell you to stop, Asthma Boy?” Mickey grumbled at his guy. “Gimme three more sets of twenty!”

---

Blond Douchebag must have taken a genuine liking to him because he later offered to cover Ian as he pounded into the punching bag. And while he technically did hold onto the punching bag, his eyes were always on Mickey.

“Wonder who Ian is,” he mused as he observed Mickey’s topless form. “Think it’s the husband? Probably doesn’t even realize what a hot piece of ass he’s got at home.”

Too easy. It would be entirely too easy to pretend Ian’s hand slipped and he hit him by mistake, and he wasn’t going to stoop that low. He wasn’t.

Taking in a deep breath, Ian started punching harder.

He wasn’t.

“Everything okay here?”

Mickey had his shirt tucked under the elastic band of his pants, and from the corner of his eyes, Ian couldn’t help but notice the light sheen of sweat that covered his face and upper body. He wasn’t the only one.

“Oh, more than okay,” Blond Douchebag practically purred.

Punch. Punch. Punch.

“Whoa, Ian, hey.” Mickey sounded worried. “Take it easy, man.”

And fucking finally, that seemed to have done the job. Because Blond Douchebag wasn’t looking at Mickey anymore, he was looking back at Ian, and his bravado was long gone. Now, there was childlike fear in his stance, and Ian almost pitied him.

“Oh shit. You’re Ian,” he managed before the next punch landed right into his face, knocking him down on the floor.

Panting, Ian stood over him as he clutched his bleeding nose.

“Yes, I’m Ian,” he snarled at him. “And his ass is all mine.”

Someone gripped his arm then.

“Okay, the show’s over, Muhammad Ali. Better get out of here,” Mickey muttered as he pushed Ian across the gym, past all the Northside wimps who seemed too tired to do anything other than being in shock. “Come on. Ian, come the fuck on!”

From the Alibi, they ran. Sprinted along the streets and over honking cars, zig-zagged through commuters, and flipped off those who wolf-whistled at their half-naked bodies. They ran until they ended up in a dirty alley with no one else in sight, their sides on fire, and broke into a fit of laughter.

Ian only realized Mickey brought his shirt when he used it to slap his chest.

“Jealous fucker.”

“Shut the fuck up. Wasn’t jealous.”

But Mickey was still wearing that suggestive whatcha gonna do now smirk, and his lips were shiny from being licked over just a second ago, and so the next thing Ian knew, he was pushing him against a wall and kissing him thoroughly.

His hands went to Mickey’s ass, lifting him up just slightly as his fingers dug in, and Ian pulled back to let out a moan.

“Mm, I fuckin’ love your ass.”

Mickey groaned. “Jesus Christ, please don’t tell me all of this was because of my ass.”

Leaning down again, Ian murmured into his mouth: “Isn’t it always?”

[mitchmarnier]

i can be your hero

pairing: eddie kaspbrak/richie tozier (reddie) word count: 2,205 summary: It’s funny. I looked at this essay question for nearly week, and gave up on it twice. I wouldn’t apply, because this was too hard. How was supposed to pick a hero? How could I pick somebody good enough for some big college board? I wouldn’t lie, and pick some great politician or people who did amazing things. Because yes, they’re amazing and wonderful and should be looked up to. But are they my personal hero? No. If I was going to answer this, I needed to tell the truth. And there’s only one person who could really be MY hero. ITFandomWeek2019: Day seven | Accidental Confession

read on ao3.

Eddie Kaspbrak let himself into Richie’s room, as he always did. In his life, the Tozier household had become a second home for Eddie. A safe place to go when things got just a little too intense with his mother, a happy place to be on days when Eddie just wants to be free from his thoughts for awhile. There was something so comforting about Richie’s house- and his bedroom in particular- that sometimes Eddie would come here even when Richie wasn’t home.

Like days like this, when Richie’s shift at the video store wouldn’t be over for at least another half hour, but he knew that Richie wouldn’t be surprised to find Eddie hanging around in his bedroom.

Something caught Eddie’s attention on Richie’s usually empty desk. A huge envelope, with several pieces of paper surrounding it. Eddie moved over and quickly saw that it was nothing less than an acceptance package from UCLA. Eddie frowned. Richie hadn’t mentioned anything about applying to colleges, in fact, he’d seemed admittedly against so much as talking about it. Whenever it came up, Richie would immediately deflect the conversation until the other Losers eventually stopped bringing it up when he was around.

Yet here was not only proof that Richie had applied to schools, but that he’d gotten accepted to at least one. Eddie reached for the papers, going through and wondering if it could give any sort of answer to why his best friend had been hiding this from him.

Seemingly hidden under all the dorming information, was a printed out paper. Eddie grabbed it and pulled it to his face. It became clear almost immediately that it was Richie’s application essay and Eddie quickly scanned the beginning.

It’s funny. I looked at this essay question for nearly week, and gave up on it twice. I wouldn’t apply, because this was too hard. How was supposed to pick a hero? How could I pick somebody good enough for some big college board? I wouldn’t lie, and pick some great politician or people who did amazing things. Because yes, they’re amazing and wonderful and should be looked up to. But are they my personal hero? No. If I was going to answer this, I needed to tell the truth. And there’s only one person who could really be MY hero.

My hero is Eddie Kaspbrak. My best friend. The strongest person I’ve ever met. And he’ll never know it, but he’s my whole world.

Eddie made an awkward, hhhhh noise from the back of his throat and starred blankly at the paper. He should put it away, he knew he should. He should put everything back exactly where he found it, and walk away. Pretend he never saw it. Wait for Richie to tell him about UCLA.

However, Eddie found himself falling into the sit in front of Richie’s desk while still holding his essay.

I know what this probably sounds like. This is another boo boo gay kid, crying let me into your school! I’m gay! That isn’t what this is. Maybe a little, because I am gay, and you should let me into your school, but there’s more to this than that.

Eddie shook his head, dwelling on how Richie still seemed to such a Trashmouth even in a college application. Then the whole “I’m gay” comment hit Eddie and the hair on his arms all stood on end. Richie was gay? Richie talked about tits and vagina and sex so much, that Eddie had never even considered that possibility. Richie Tozier was straight, hella straight. One of the straightest people he’d ever known. And yet... was this some big game? A lie to get himself into school? A school Eddie didn’t even know that Richie wanted to go to? Did Eddie know Richie at all?

It might be a little weird, actually, to tell you all this stuff. It’s not like you know Eddie, or that any of this would mean anything to you. Another application of hundreds on your desk, to be tossed aside and forgotten about. So, I guess I’'m going to keep talking. That’s a skill of mine. These are things I need to say, and things I need somebody to hear, even if it’s somebody who won’t care and will probably never think of me, or this, again. Perfect captive audience.

As stated above, Eddie Kaspbrak is the strongest person I know. If even half of the things Eddie went through happened to me, I don’t doubt I would’ve curled up into a tiny ball and never moved again for the rest of my life. Eddie, thought, he just keeps going. Doesn’t even give it a second thought, just lets it happen. When Eddie was just a kid, his dad died. He had cancer and I’m not sure he remembers it very well. He doesn’t talk about it much.

Eddie remembered everything. He’d only been five years old, and most of his earliest memories center around his father in hospital beds. He sees pictures of a healthy Frank, his non-dying father, and he has no memories of that man. His mother hadn’t kept any memoirs of his father during his dying days, so Eddie has no connection to the man who was to be his father in pictures, and the father in all his memories.

I know it hurts him, though. How could it not? He just takes it all. He doesn’t even have a parent to turn to, because Eddie’s mother isn’t good. She’s, frankly, quite crazy. She was so afraid of something happening to Eddie that she convinced him he had all these diseases growing up. Asthma, and a bunch of other stuff. Had him half convinced that he could die just from getting dirty. Had him talking placebo medicines every day to control him. Had him thinking that he was weak and sickly.

Maybe she believed it, too. After Eddie told me about the fake medicine- and I’ll always remember that day, I wanted to physically fight his mother because I’d never seen my Eddie upset- I looked up stuff like that. I didn’t understand much, but there’s some sort of psychological disorder that makes somebody all attention seeking and make up all these symptoms for their kids. I never told Eddie about them, because I didn’t want to make him feel any worse about it, or forgive her and let her keep doing what she was doing. I was proud of him for standing up for him, and I still am. I always will be.

Eddie blinked hard, eyes suddenly burning with tears. He lowered the letter for a second and took a deep breath. He could still turn around it, put the essay back on Richie’s desk and pretend that he didn’t ever see it. Besides Richie being gay, Eddie hadn’t read anything he didn’t already know. Richie thought his mother was crazy? Eddie knew that. That Richie was proud of him for standing up to his mother? Richie had made sure that Eddie knew that.

And yet.

It’s not even just that Eddie is strong. He’s so strong, but he somehow manages to be so, so caring. He’s not afraid to call me out on being dumb ass when I’m clearly being a dumb ass, but he’s still always there to pick my dumb ass up when I do something dumb. He’s always been there for me, even after he told me not to do something. When we were 13, I was messing around near the edge of the cliff of quarry. We used to jump off it all the time, it wasn’t too far a drop. As long as you were expecting a drop, which I wasn’t. Eddie, and all my other friends, had told him a hundred times to get away from the edge because I’d fall. I didn’t listen to them and then I fell in. It wasn’t too far a drop, as I said, but Eddie still jumped off after me to make sure he could stop from me drowning. He cursed me, then mocked me, but I never forgot that he was the only person who jumped after me. So maybe Eddie Kaspbrak is also my literal hero.

Eddie smiled, remembering that day clearly. The irrational fear that had been struck through him as he watched Richie trip backwards over the edge. He’d, of course, known that Richie had jumped off that cliff more times that Eddie would ever be able to count, but all he could think about was Richie hitting the water unprepared. Of all the terrible things that could happen to Richie in that water if he wasn’t ready to swim. So Eddie hadn’t given it a second of thought, just run and jumped after him.

Of course, Richie had been absolutely fine. Richie would swim. Eddie cursed him and smacked at him, but he’d done it all with a huge smile of relief all over his face.

And you know what, board admission lady. Or board admission man... board admission person. I’ve already stuck myself so far out there, that I might as well just waxed poetically, since I already have. Not only is Eddie Kaspbrak the strongest person I’ve ever met, and the most caring person I’ve ever met, but he’s also the most beautiful person I’ve ever known or ever will know. With the prettiest green eyes, and the softest brown hair, and those ridiculous freckles, I could fall in love with him every time I looked at him until the day I die.

There were no longer tears filling up his eyes, but tears that had leaked down his face and were dripping off his chin and nose. He used the hand that wasn’t clutching the essay like a vice grip, to wipe the wet frantically away.

And if I’m being honest, which I promised that I would be, Eddie is my hero because he has dreams. He has goals. He inspires me to have dreams and goals. I never wanted to go to college, never thought I’d do anything with my life, until Eddie started talking about going away. Talked about going to school, starting a life, getting away from his shit hand. It made me realize that life is more than just being born in a shitty town, and living and dying like your parents. That no matter where we started, or who they try to make us think we have to be, that we still get to choose who we are. Where we go. What we do. Who we love.

Eddie Kaspbrak is my hero, because Eddie Kaspbrak inspires me to live everyday.

“Hey Eds!” Richie cheered as he clicked the door shut behind him, tossing his backpack that Eddie knew from experience was packed up with his sweaty work uniform. Eddie startled, tossing the paper onto the desk but he watched Richie’s face  as he caught sight of the movement.

Richie paled immediately and he seemed to sway on the spot. Eddie wiped the tears away at faster rate, but found that more just kept replacing them. A broken noise came from the back of Richie’s throat before he cleared it. “Eddie. I’m so sorry.”

Eddie gaped at him, shaking his head. “What the hell are you sorry for? Richie-” Eddie stood up, grabbing Richie’s hands and trying to pull him closer but Richie wouldn’t budge. “Richie nobody has ever said those sort of things about me, I can’t believe... Richie, would you look at me?”

“You were never supposed to know.” Richie said through a strained voice. Eddie could see the emotion all over Richie’s face, the walls forcibly ripped down. He could see the Richie who wrote those words, so perfectly mixed with the Richie that he’d always known that it made Eddie a little lightheaded. “I shouldn’t have even written that shit. I never wanted to ruin our friendship, okay, I just... I needed to get it out and seemed perfect and-”

Eddie pressed a hand over Richie’s mouth and knew that his own face was breaking. “Richard. Shut the fuck up.” Eddie said slowly, trying not to break down into tears. “You don’t get to apologize for the most amazing thing that I’ve even seen or read or...” Eddie closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “I’ve never had somebody see me like that.”

Eddie’s hand moved away from Richie’s mouth to cup his cheek. Eddie stepped forward so their chests are pressed mostly together and he looks up at him. “Everybody should see you that way,” Richie said, voice raw and rough. “I see you like that always.”

Eddie closed the distance between them and pressed their lips together. His hands slid into Richie’s messy (admittedly kind of sweaty) curls and their lips moved together for several moments before Richie pulled back with a pained gasp. “Eddie... is this just because the essay?” Richie asked, eyes closed tightly. “Because I literally cannot-”

Eddie kissed him softly once more, stroking Richie’s jaw with his thumb. “It gave me the nerve.” Eddie admitted bashfully. “But the feelings have always been there. For you.”

Richie let out a little sob before sealing their lips together again.

[ninjagoruinedmylife]

"An Awkward Prom" - a.k.a thing i promised to to and i haven't sleep yesterday to finish it rip me

Aaaaalright folks, so. Today is ninjago oc day which i was really REALLY REALLY hyped for, considering the fact that i have an oc i developed lately. Her name is Ange and she is daughter of Karlof and next elemental master of metal (i think i mentioned her here once or twice tho). And, because we are dorks, me and @clumsinessinperson made Ange and Ali’s oc, Nozomi, meet and ~fall in love~ *dabs* So, to celebrate it, we did a kind of… collab thing for them?? Ali drew a beautiful fanart of this two and i wrote a short fic about a situation that is connected with it. I hope you’ll like it!!

(Also im tagging @evelinaonline bc she threw this event and also she really wanted to see what was this secret thing i was working on with Ali XD)

***

Ange realised that there is no turning back way too late.

She was pretty chill whole day - hell, she nearly forgot about this whole school prom. Two hours before it, when notification on her phone ringed, she nearly got a heart attack. She had to prepare and, to be honest, she sucked when it came to subject of looks.

She threw nearly most of the things from her closet while looking for a blue dress she bought a few weeks ago. After all, she found it in a washing mashine, all curled up with other clothes. Ange sighed deeply and ironed it as fast as she could, hoping that she won’t burn a hole in it. When she was putting the cloth on, her hands were trembling and she started breathing heavily. Now she regretted every decision she made about this event - signing in being the first one, buying way too high heels being the second, and inviting Nozomi being the third.

At first she thought that this will be great idea. They knew each other for so long, Ange never met someone who would understand her so much and stay with her no matter what… But after they said that they are going there as friends, girl started wondering if she didn’t want to invite him from other reason than “I don’t have anyone else to ask.”

Maybe it wasn’t too late to call him and tell that something happened and she can’t go to the prom. Maybe she could tell that she had an asthma attack and… No, he would still come to see if she’s okay. Maybe she could announce that her father came to visit… Bad idea as well, Karloff lived way too far to randomly come to her. Ange tried to come up with some kind of solution while she was brushing her hair, painting her nails, putting on makeup. She ended up with no ideas and completly awful eyeshades. She accidentally chose the brown ones instead of the silver ones and now she looked like if she played with dirt and didn’t washed her face in few days.

Damnit.

When she did everything in her power to save her image, phone ringed again. She grabbed it with one hand, the other still busy paiting her face, and she didn’t even need to put it up to her ear to hear a loud rock music and even louder voice of a familiar man.

“Ya ready, kid?!” Ronin asked in his usual manner. “We’ll be next to your house in about ten minutes, so I sure hope you are! See ya then!”

And that he hanged off.

Ange sighed and her determination only grew. After she finally finished her makeup, she put on some silver jewelery she kept with her since she had to first move to Ninjago City, and then run away from anacondrai warriors. It was the only thing that reminded her of her mum - a pair of round earrings, long necklace decorated with blue crystals, and three big rings engraved with some strange patterns. She used to have a habit of not going anywhere without them on. Not only from sentiment, though; she knew she could easily change it in deadly weapon in the time of the biggest need.

Luckily, today no one was gonna kill her (besides for her own embarrasment, of course), so she could wear it only for aesthetic reasons.

Ange looked at herself in the mirror and she even smiled. She wasn’t looking half as bad as she thought she would, to be absolutely honest. She still felt way too tall and fragile, but she could even pass as an attractive person! That was an achievement to celebrate, but she had no time to bake a victorious cake and open up the shampain.

She stood in front of the door, holding her phone tight and waiting for a call from either Nozomi or his father, but the first thing she heard was a familiar noise that went through the window.

“Hell no.” Girl mumbled under her breath when she turned around.

Right next to her balcony, floated R.E.X. - huge flying ship that belonged to Ronin. She blushed a bit from both fury and awkwardness, and walked towards it. Her neighbours were gonna look at her strange again.

“We don’t have a whole day!” Ronin yelled when she came close enough to hear his words. “Don’t act like if you are on a walk in a park, come here faster!”

Ange hissed with frustration and moved her hand a bit. Metal bars that surrounded her balcony suddenly changed their place and turned into a bridge for a girl to walk on a ship. She looked around, a little worried that someone saw her - good, no neighbour around. She still felt hella anxious when it came to using her powers around people she didn’t know.

She sat next to Ronin and looked at her right. On his other side was Nozomi, who waved to her awkwardly. His whole face was completly red, like if someone threw tomatoes at him. When Ange smiled and waved back, he started looking a bit more relaxed.

Ronin still hadn’t started flying again - he nodded constantly to the rythm of a very loud, very agressive and very scary (in girl’s opinion) song. This state would last even longer if Nozomi didn’t react.

“Dad”, boy sounded slightly annoyed. “Remember? We have to go.”

“As you said, we don’t have a whole day, sir.” Ange coughed due to how much smoke R.E.X. producted.

“Oh, yeah. Good idea, kiddos.” Ronin cracked a smile and then they started flying so fast that Ange got scared if they won’t end up dying soon. “So. How is this whole art school thing going, girl? I remember a good ol’ times when we didn’t had a time for a stuff like that, I’m telling you. You had to work hard from the day you were born, or you had to start stealing, and you probably know what I chose…”

And it felt like with every word, he got faster and faster.

Ange, who was now not even a little red, but completly pale, looked at her friend over his dad’s shoulder and whispered:

“Can we kill him, please?”

“We don’t know how to fly this thing,” Nozomi shook his head sadly. “We would die sooner than he will kill us.”

It was good that they mastered the art of reading lips movement through all this time. In other case, they wouldnt talk about subject like that near Ronin and, what’s even more important, they couldn’t understand each other. Meanwhile, man was still rambling about how much schools suck when you can become a criminal.

“Oh, didn’t he try to learn you? Maybe you know some basic stuff…”

“You forgot an important part - I don’t want my dad to die!”

“Who are you planning to kill?!” Ronin screamed in their terrified faces after the vehicle stopped in front of a huge building. ‘He turned off the music few seconds ago, so he probably didn’t hear much’, Ange realised and felt a big weight leaving her chest. If she survived this, she will survive tonight’s prom for sure.

“Uuuh…” Nozomi scratched the back of his neck.

“My teacher!” Ange interrupted. “My math teacher, sir.”

“I bet he’s a pain in the ass, huh?” Ronin laughed shortly. “Okay, kiddos, go. Have fun, don’t do drugs, and blablabla. I’ll come and pick you up at 11.”

If a moment ago Ange thought that this was gonna be the easier part of the evening, the fear of what was gonna happen returned when she came out of the ship. She stood in front of her school and Nozomi soon joined her. Everyone from her school, now dressed all elegant, looked at R.E.X. with open mouths. Which meant that they saw her as well. And they saw her with Nozomi.

Even bigger damnit.

“Is everything okay?” Her friend looked at her, seemingly worried. “You look nervous as hell.”

“I always AM nervous as hell, Nozomi.” She answered and then started walking towards the entrace. “It’s not a big deal today, though.”

“I hope so, we came here to… have fun. Or whatever normal teenagers do during proms.” Boy frowned and then blushed. “It’s so strange. I’m not sure if it was a good decision to take me with you, Ange. I’m a terrible dancer and I don’t know anyone here…”

“Hey”, she grabbed his hand. “I asked you to go with me because I know I’ll have fun with you. You are my best friend after all.”

“You forgot to add that I’m your ONLY friend.” Nozomi smiled mischeviously, and then he looked down at their holding hands with a frown. “Hm, won’t they all think that we are dating? You know, holding hands and stuff is usually pretty romantic, as far as I remember from all those movies.”

He laughed, as if he just said a good joke, but girl noticed a growing blush on his face a minute before anxiety hit her.

“Ugh, I-” Ange let go of his hand immediately, feeling a lump in her throat growing and growing. “I’m sorry for that, if I made you feel bad or-”

“I mean, it’s not like I don’t like it or something-” boy grabbed her wrist and looked down. “I just guess that at this point I can stand people looking at me because I’m with a person I’m most comfortable around, and not because I stole something.”

 She wasn’t ready to answer somehow for that and, luckily, she didn’t had to.

They heard a really loud rock music once again, and when they turned around, they saw Ronin running in their direction with a camera.

“I forgot to take a pic of ya two!” He took a few deep breaths and then got camera higher. “Okay so, stand somehow to look nice, and then say "cheese” or some other bullshit… Ready?“

They looked at each other with awkward expressions, but after a minute Ange placed her hand on Nozomi’s back and he wrapped his arm around her waist. Both awfully blushing teenagers tried to put normal smiles on their faces, and without any more word Ronin took a photo.

"Okay, now I’m leaving for real, I promise!” He screamed when he was getting back to his vehicle.

Ange sighed. Maybe this prom won’t be such a tragedy.

[alyssacantu91]

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[illfigureitoutasigoalong]

my flea dream lol

My weird dream

I had a “flea” dream last night lol. Once my sister had a dream that she was a flea and killed mufasa?? And woke up and was terrified but like the content of the dream was not scary. I had one last night which right now is a little scary. OMG so it wasn’t a nightmare because it was scary, but it was intense and my heart was beating fast when I woke up. So it started out really weird and the direct result of me watching too many episodes of breaking polygamy. I was on a date with an FLDS looking woman in a restaurant that looked gross and I would never go there in real life. What’s weird is that I’ve had dreams in this restaurant before? Anyway I was wearing an amazing cute outfit with a blazer at this date and my weird amish looking date looked…. Amish. And the waiter took her order and then looked to me and goes “are you a man or a boy?” And I was immediately offended hahaha I was just like “what??” And the waiter was like “suit jackets are for men.” I immediately left the restaurant and there was no other sight of my weird date. I got in my car (which was my old gold Honda RIP) and who is inside??? MY EX GIRLFRIEND. That’s when this turned into a nightmare tbh. My least favorite version of her was her when we were in the car and she was driving. In my dream though we were not dating we were just friends after dating. But she was acting weird and possessive and stuff like we were still together. She drove us around being literally the most annoying version of herself. She spilled coffee, got us lost, was extra Vegan, and just generally very annoying. She like had this “I know I’m right attitude” that I used to hate or more like “I don’t care if I’m wrong” attitude. Terrible. As we were driving to my dream house I just got more and more miserable.

THEN the number one reason we broke up, she invited herself to a family party that was being thrown at my house. (Also weird thing about my house in this dream is that it was in the field that used to be there before they built a Walmart on winterpok rd. Also all the women in my family were lined up with red Pizza Hut uniforms and name tags and everyone had a fluffy twist out like they had blowdried their hair??? (Probably another side effect of me watching too much breaking polygamy lmao because they all wear their hair the same on there. I remember members of my family there but also members from the country church we used to go to like 15 years ago. Honestly who even knows why they were also there. I was immediately excited to see all of them and forgot to be annoyed at S. I remember singing “10-20-40” to them as I walked by. Literally so weird.)

SO. As we were driving S had stopped at Pizza Hut which was on the corner in the dream and my dream solution was to run home before she could find me, and get into my weird house before she saw me so that one of my family members would intercept her. It semi worked? I snuck into the basement locker room of my house to (take a shower I guess) and I hear her coming in the alternate entrance. (Random memory about this dream, she was dressed like jojo siwa. Which is odd but its also totally how she would have dressed in like, high school. Literally why did I date this woman) And I see her legs under like a weird stall door that leads to the basement locker room and we start having a screaming match about her even being in my house which is when I woke up with my heart beating fast. I’m trying to even remember what I said but I remember a few parts?

S: “I can’t believe you didn’t wait for me!” (I guess to come into my house? What’s weird about this argument is that I felt the same guilty sense of dread that I used to feel when I didn’t feel like hanging out with her. Cool. Love that for me)

Me: “I had a very not good day, which I know isn’t an excuse.” So eloquent of me. Brilliant grammar. I was referring to being called a man on my weird date, for some reason in my dream this really distressed me.

S: “That’s not an excuse!” (She had cut me off as I was saying the last part)

Me: “I JUST said it’s not an excuse and I’m fucking trying to apologize and you won’t let me!”

And that’s when I woke up. I wish I had stayed asleep longer because I was about to yell at her for 1. We aren’t dating anymore and she was no longer entitled to my time and 2. That she was always inviting herself into places that she just didn’t belong or didn’t fit. This would have gotten ugly so you know it’s probably for the best but still. lol.

So what do I do? I get up and read her reddit posts to make sure she’s still completely unrelateable and surprise surprise she is. So I am making it a vow to stop doing that because all it really does is just make me even more flabbergasted about why I even dated her for so long or even dated her at all. I know deep down that my reasoning was “eh, why not? I need girlfriend experience.” Instead of “wow I am actually interested in this person.” So yep. Never doing that again. And I know it’s terrible but I really want to date someone in my race next time. It’s just easier.

Also I have been thinking about downloading a dating app but I only want friends. I don’t feel like dating anyone right now and also I feel like in order to have a good time in a relationship I need to lose like 150 pounds. Anyway I typed this on my work laptop and I hope if someone reads this later they get a big kick out of it. Hahahah

Also! I text MB all day every day because I think we are both lonely. Yesterday on FT she said “I wish you were a man then we could date.” This really freaked me out. At first (like months ago) my brain was like “oh shit are we about to get a crush” but thank GOD I only feel friendship feelings for her. She’s just really young and very white and sometimes those things are glaringly obvious. It just freaked me out because it made me think like “oh should we be dating???” but the ultimate answer is no. not to mention a week or so ago we had a discussion where she thought i was always mad at her for being racist. But i have to call her out sometimes on the ignorant shit she says. Like ordinarily i would just let people get away with it but if we are gonna be as close of friends as we already are then you gotta know when you mess up. Sorry. But you do.

I was able to get a nintendo switch!! I am having a great time. I just wish my sister was able to get one too. I feel like I can’t be properly excited because she’s really bummed about not being able to get one. I am checking the site over and over again to see if I can get one for her. Also she’s bummed about her job role transitioning for the lend position. I would also be very upset but at the same time she should be just a little grateful for still having a job at this point. I would never say that though. And also i’m not in her shoes so I can’t really judge. I would be PISSED if I climbed my way up the ladder just to be stuck doing what I view as “non-degree work.”

This is terrible but finally the tables have turned in my favor? Hear me out ok. For years I’ve struggled with my health and my job. I was diagnosed with diabetes and high BP when I was 19. I graduated without a job, and worked 5 shitty and semi-shitty jobs for the past 5 years. Finally I have a job that I love (hopefully that lasts) that pays me decently, and I can afford my meds on my new insurance, I stay hydrated which makes me feel better and I’ve gotten really used to listening to my body. I also have accepted my health problems and I am really good at keeping a level head about things. Now though, all of the stuff I already went through and I am dealing with accordingly are happening to my sister and she is miserable. She had a shitty job change (it’s only temporary, but she is WALLOWING in it.) and was diagnosed with asthma. The inhaler gives her heart palpitations and she completely freaks out over them. I’m really not trying to be rude but at least you know they are a side effect and her heart isn’t just going crazy for no reason. But she has been in a terrible mood for weeks and every time she takes her inhaler she has like, an episode. First of all, my mom would have never let me get away with this behavior for so long because I’ve always been kind of sullen and panicky. But also I think sometimes my sister just really needs to grow up. Shitty things happen to everyone and you kind of just have to keep going forward.

AND speaking of growing up, we are trying to look at apartments in the same complex because I feel like honestly she will forget about me if we don’t live within walking distance of each other. I don’t know how much she gets paid but it can’t be much more than me. She’s looking at places with one bedroom that are like $1,500 a month.... like that’s the base rent price. She’s not even counting the security deposit and utilities. I tried to explain it to her and she’s like “I’m pretty sure all apartments cost this much around here.” I’m so sorry but no. They don’t. I’m not paying almost 2 grand a month to live where we do. That’s crazy to me. I found a place I like but she doesn’t seem to like it. I may just have to move there and just be sad for a while when she forgets to hang out with me.

Last thing I guess (since I should be working) I want to write a lesbian romance novel! I am in a bit of a book slump so why not write one of my own. Wouldn’t that be amazing if it could be published??? I have no idea how to write a book so honestly it’s a pipe dream but I was really good at writing fanfiction! It’s gotta be similar right?