Sleepless

(She/Her) Sometimes I write things

[ommanyte]

Does anyone genuinely call their siblings sis, sister, little/big sis, bro, brother, little/big brother etc. as constantly as this appears to be portrayed in media? I’m extremely sceptical. Now, affectionally addressing them by something like “slug”, “toad”, “fool”, and “bitch”, or even dare I say it, their gotdamn name, is, from my experience, so much more natural. 

[bisouschuu]

ok guys, reblog and put in the tag how you name your siblings 

[earthlostgirl]

Me and my brother just say you! and then we give each other the finger

[earthlostgirl]

I'm late but I finished Colony and now I have a hole in my heart

[earthlostgirl]

People : oh there is this thing ( book/comic/video game/anime) that we really like.

TV/Cinema Producers : Oh there's this thing (book/comic/video game/anime) that people love. Let's make a movie/TV series but change the tone/characters and part of the plot.

People : Thanks, we hate it.

TV/film producers : What went wrong?

[incorrect-cowboybebop-quotes]

Spike & Juila: beautiful, talented, show-stopping, tragic, romantic,

Spike & Faye: *sounds of two raccoons fighting in a dumpster outside*

[beccanoodles]

Maybe I got bad taste then 😂😭😭

[earthlostgirl]

[superohclair]

aw I'm disappointed that cowboy bebop was canceled on netflix. I guess I understand why, but honestly, I wish fans could be better at accepting that having multiple adaptations and interpretations of a story is okay, and good, and important. there are different mediums fo storytelling for a reason. a novel cannot be received or create the same feelings as a film, or a play, or manga, or animated series, or a cartoon, or a live action, or a miniseries, or a radio show. it's supposed to be different each time. it's supposed to create variation. I really wish we could creators space to be creative.

[earthlostgirl]

live action films are a mistake, all Disney's live action films are proof of that. All the ones Netflix has done are proof of that.

Animation is a great format to tell stories, you don't need real people to tell the same story.

I agree with letting creators have room to be creative. But it would be much better if they let them make new stories.

[earthlostgirl]

Me after 20 days of non-stop rain in my city.

[tubulareric]

[legalise-drugs-and-murder-blog]

brock-obama:

Owls confirmed to be the creepiest birds ever. LOOK AT THE FUCKING THINGS. If you fail to notice the one on the left fucking SWALLOWING a rat, then you have the dude singing some satanic chant or something next to him, and then you have those two other fucking psychos synchronized to make you feel creeped the fuck out with their soulless dance of FUCKING DOOM.

I really am tempted to reblog this every time it’s on my dash. That description is one of the best things on the internet.

[oculousreparo]

[ourpoeticlives]

Yeahhhh, I want this on my blog again.

[earlgreytea68]

OMG MY FAVORITE TUMBLR POST EVER IT’S FINALLY BACK YAY!

[earlgreytea68]

Here, have another of my all-time favorite Tumblr posts. 

[earlgreytea68]

We were just discussing this again and I had to reblog it again because IT IS MY FAVORITE

[jlrpuck]

I’m permanently traumatized that you introduced me to this over lunch, EGT. 

[earlgreytea68]

::bows with a flourish::

[revdrfrog]

There’s a gif out there of some people reenacting this that makes me laugh til I puke every damn time.

[imnotokaywiththerunning]

@revfrog

[worldheritagepostorganization]

World Heritage Post

[wilwheaton]

I remember when this was new. I’m dying just as hard now as I did then.

[rongzhi]

A snack fishing game for children at a mall. The price to play is around 58-68 RMB (9-11 USD), depending on the child's height.

[earthlostgirl]

I want to play this !

[earthlostgirl]

Someone explain to me the point of going to someone's blog to tell them they are wrong about their SHIP.

By the way, according to the author of the piece I am not wrong.

[thestarlightsymphony]

Sleepy babiiiiiiiies

[earthlostgirl]

Look without seeing

“Two packs of Marlboro.”

The grocery store clerk was ignoring him, his eyes were on Faye, on Faye's ass to be precise, and she was strutting around, aware that she was being watched. Looking for something on a shelf, she had bent over just enough for them to enjoy the spectacle of her shorts.

“Two packs of cigarettes, Marlboro,” he repeated, clearing his throat loudly.

“Huh?” the boy asked without even looking at him.

“Tobacco,” Spike said, waving the hand in front of his eyes.

The cashier turned to the shelf, picked them up, and set the tobacco on the table, at the very moment Faye set the basket full of stuff on the counter.

Faye flashed a mesmerizing smile while handing him the credit card.

Spike stepped back to enjoy the show. One by one, the boy put the groceries into the bags, while Faye flirted and enjoyed herself, leaning against the counter.

“Would you like me to carry your groceries to the car?” asked the clerk when he finished packing all the groceries.

“Okay,” Faye smiled again daintily, falsely and maliciously.

The boy carried a few bags, quite heavy, Faye carried bread under her arm and walked in front of him wiggling her hips, aware of every gesture. He followed her like a lapdog, under her spell.

Spike went out after them, the hands in the pockets, whistling and walking at a slow pace.

When the brat left, after placing all the groceries in the Red Tail, Faye turned around smiling triumphantly and pulled a bottle of extremely expensive whiskey out of her shirt.

“They look at me, but they don't see me,” she said, kissing the bottle. “Idiot.”

“They don't see anyone else,” he replied, pulling the cartons of tobacco out of his jacket.

She flashed a charming expression and high-fived him.

“Anyway, he missed the best part,” Spike said, removing the sunglasses Faye had stolen from the store and wearing them himself.

Faye looked down to hide her blush, despite being fully aware of her good looks, she didn't know how to take the compliments.

“ It is even funnier at poker,” she said, turning around and putting the bottle away with the rest of the groceries. “A little cleavage… a skirt shorter than it should be… and no one looks at my hands.”

“What if someone doesn't fall for your tricks? What if you get caught cheating?” Spike asked, handing her the tobacco, so she could pack it too. “I realized you were cheating me when we first met.”

“Shoot and run,” she shrugged. “Wouldn't be the first time.”

Faye sighed and smiled sadly, it didn't surprise him that she always ended up in trouble. She had learned to survive the hard way, they had woken her up in a wild new world, leaving her to her own fate, with no resources and no tools to adapt in the unknown.

“ Don't move,” Spike suddenly became serious and took a step toward her, slipped his arm around her waist, and placed his hand on the Glock Faye kept in her pants. “Don't look back, look at me.”

“What's wrong?” she asked with a serious expression and stood on guard.

Spike leaned over and with his free hand gently cupped her face and kissed her.

“You're an idiot,” she said as he broke away from her, giving a small shove. “You scared me, asshole.”

“Let's get back to the Bebop,” Spike chuckled as he raised his eyebrows and turned his back on her, walking back to the ship.

Turning on the intercom, he saw through the camera that she was putting on her make-up. She was totally focused, applying her lipstick with exquisite detail.

“That color is hideous,” Spike finally said for the sake of saying something, so she could tell he was looking at her, though he was sure she knew, that she always knew when he was looking at her.

“ Well, you've got it all over your face, sweetheart,” Faye replied without taking her eyes off the mirror as she ran her hands through her hair.

“Touché” Spike laughed, turning on the Swordfish's engine and moving into gear. “Faye?” he asked when they had been flying for over half an hour in absolute silence.

“What?” she kept staring down the road.

“You would marry me?” he asked, his voice laden with irony.

“What? Excuse me?” she looked at him through the camera and burst out laughing. “How can you ask me such things? Do you want me to crash?”

“It's a rhetorical question,” Spike maneuvered to bring the aircraft up to her height.

“Why the hell would you want to get married anyway?” she said, looking at him through the window and grimacing in disbelief.

“Why not? Weddings are fun,” Spike replied, slightly offended.

“Spike, all our friends are dead, it would be the saddest wedding in the universe,” Faye sentenced, shooting him a skeptical look through the phone.

“You're a real romantic, aren't you, Faye?” he commented sarcastically.

“We wouldn't even have witnesses, Spike,” she sighed.

“Ed and Jet?” Spike asked. “Takes two people, doesn't it?”

“Ed's underage, she can't,” Faye tapped her fingertips on the camera screen.

“Then we'll wait until she's older,” he sentenced earnestly but with a mocking look on his face.

“Sure, Spike, whatever you say,” Faye said in a sarcastic tone.

“What a poor sense of humor you have, my dear,” he said, smiling broadly.

“It'll be that you have no clown qualities,” Faye replied.

[earthlostgirl]

My favorite "almost kisses".

(Apparently, criminals don't kiss). 😆

[thestarlightsymphony]

Beboptober 8: Never Have I Ever

Drinking games all start the same. A playful quip, a dare, or a bet. Something building on a rising tension; testing the waters, testing boundaries. Simple fun both parties know would not actually stay so simple.

Normal people, when they drink socially, do it to unwind after a long day. When a game is involved, it’s to let loose even further. There’s a certain level of trust, occasional flirtation, and a whole lot of booze; what’s not to like? Get a game going and drain the stress right out of your shoulders.

But that kind of drinking game was for ordinary civilians. People who could afford to complain about their positions without having too much actual grief to back it up.

The safe. The content. Some minor inconveniences of life, but nothing to really bury with the use of a dozen bottles. Just head to the bar, ask for ‘the usual, Sam,’ and play a game with some friends.

But when you’re stuck on a space ship drifting for who knows how long, with not much else to do but simmer in your own vices (or lack thereof) and pasts (or lack thereof further), you get bored.

Really fucking bored.

You wanna play a game. A drinking game.

Rationalizing it is easy, when Jet’s nowhere in sight and Ed’s passed out on the stairs. No one to stop them partaking in the finer things in life (namely, Spike’s squirreled away bottle of fireball) without remorse or constraint.

At first, it’s simple questions. If you don’t want to answer the question, you take a drink.

Both Faye and Spike are private people, and both would prefer being drunk sooner rather than later. Little is learned, between the two. Faye hates his shoes. Spike won’t say when he lost his virginity. Faye’s favorite color is none of his business. Spike hates her shoes.

The bottle drains quickly.

Through a sniff and a frustrated huff, Faye suggests a new game. Dares.

Neither can think of a good dare. The bottle is getting dangerously low, and they’re pretending they don’t notice.

Emotions are turning strange. Tingling fingers rest on the bottle a little longer than they normally would, as it’s passed from one hand to the other. They started on the couch but after a curious laughing-fit, they landed on the floor, Spike’s back to the stairs. Eyeing him with a smirk, Faye tugs on his trousers every so often to get his attention, near his knee.

She’s crawled closer a few times and now she’s lazily trailing a finger up and down the seam on his thigh. She can feel Spike’s eyes tracking her finger, but he hasn’t stopped her. Though there’s a suspicious shiver that she can feel every time she trails slowly higher to his hip.

Her face feels hot, due to… nothing in particular.

“Let’s play a new game,” she purrs, tapping all her fingers along the seam.

“I dunno, Faye,” Spike replies around another swig of whiskey. “Your games have kinda sucked so far.”

She shakes her head, calculating a sloppy grin up at him. “This one’s a winner, I guarantee it.”

“Oh?”

“Oh yes.”

Spike tsks but he shrugs, passing the bottle and sliding down the wall to sprawl beside her.

“Never have I ever.”

“Hm?”

“Never have I ever. You say something you’ve never done, and if the other person has done it, they gotta drink.”

Spike rolling his eyes has never looked so inviting. “Didn’t we already play the truth game?”

“Naaaah, this is different.”

“How so?”

“The name of that game isn’t 'never have I ever,’ obviously.”

Another eye roll to accompany the last, though this one slightly less attractive, itself paired with a shrug. “Whatever you say. You go first?”

Faye nods, clumsily tapping at her chin in thought. “Never have I ever… jumped into deep space without a suit.”

Spike’s eyes narrow this time; they are having quite the workout this evening. “One, I’d hardly call that asteroid 'deep space,’ and two, this game seems pretty suited for cheap one-shots.”

“It is what it is, cowboy,” Faye grins, waving the bottle under his nose. “And I’d consider 'any space outside of a ship’ deep space. Now drink.”

He obliges, though begrudgingly. With a shake of his head and several rapid blinks, he turns his eyes on his opponent. “Alright, wiseass. Never have I ever cheated at poker.”

“What?! That’s cheating! You must have—”

“Never. I spot it, but I don’t dole it out.”

“Bullshit.”

“No bullshit.”

With a groan, Faye snags the bottle and adds to the flush in her cheeks. They go back and forth a couple times, but this game can’t go much longer; they’re down to the last few swigs. One or two, if she had to guess

Whatever she says for her last question, she wants to make it count.

Still propped up on her elbows, Faye gazes up into Spike’s face as she contemplates her query. Half-lidded eyes watch her right back, shaded by his untamable fluffs of dark hair. Everything about him seems to be so contradictory. He always wears a suit, so you’d think he’d have a care about appearances, but it was always rumpled and wrinkled, obviously having been slept in. Yet, he’s always clean shaven, and it’s a clean shave. Boots don’t shine, but they aren’t much scuffed, either. Again, his hair is a giant mess of curls, but it never seems to be tangled curls. Just a big ol’ mess you want to run your fingers through.

Soft… inviting…

Faye blinks wide, shaking away those ridiculous thoughts, before squinting up again.

What else, what else is there…

His eyes.

There’s something about them that’s always seemed… odd. Not wrong, but different. Slightly different in shades, perhaps.

What’s that called? Hetero…normia? Abro… chromia? Bah, whatever. They’re different.

The right one seems to shine a bit brighter, almost moves a bit faster, too. And the left… if Faye covered his face, she’d be sure the left would seem more melancholy. More far away, somehow.

Hm…. eyes…

Before she can stop herself, she says, “never have I ever kissed a man with one eye.”

Damn it! I could’ve thought of a better one than that.

 Ah well. At least that should get him the last drink.

At this, Spike’s eyes widen.

Faye feels a little confused, only to be replaced with a little giddiness.

 Unleeeeesss? Ohohoho, am I about to learn a little Secret about this mysterious stubborn idiot handsome lunkhead asshole?

To her dismay, Spike merely shrugs and closes his eyes to take the last swig.

When he opens them, a fire has been lit within. It makes Faye feel some very strong things in very important places.

Though she’s a little confused as to why.

To cover her sudden confusion, she rolls onto her back, a veritable starfish of a drunk cowboy. “Pity there, Spike; I was hoping your life was a bit more interesting,” she giggles, eyeing him upside down.

She hopes the change in scenery eases the intensity of his gaze. It doesn’t.

If anything, it makes the strange excitement grow in the pit of her stomach. Especially as he leans over, directly above her head.

“I could change that for you,” he murmurs. He rests his head in his hand, elbow just beside her head.

Faye’s brain has short-circuited. “Change what?”

“Your 'never.’”

“What, you know a man with one eye?”

“Mhmm.”

Faye rolls her eyes, but freezes as she realizes Spike’s face has inched slightly closer. “I’m not going to kiss a fucking stranger just because he only has one eye, Spike. That’s stupid.”

“I wouldn’t call him a stranger.”

“… It’s someone I know?”

“Mhmm.”

Jet?

Spike’s getting closer, and Faye’s face is feeling a helluva lot redder. 

Not bad. Just… very warm.

I… I don’t think it’s Jet. M-maybe Ein?

“W… would you kiss him, first, if I said yes?” Faye whispers, eyes flicking frantically between Spike’s shadowy eyes and his ever-approaching lips.

He chuckles, a little perplexed. “I don’t think it’d quite work; you might have to kiss him first and tell me if it’s worth it.”

Faye’s breath catches in her chest as Spike’s nimble fingers catch her cheek. “O-oh… well… maybe I could—”

A soft kiss presses into her bottom lip, and her eyes flutter closed to the feeling. It’s terribly gentle, too gentle for how warm she feels all over. A second kiss follows, and Spike’s teeth gently tug at her lip in passing. There’s another hand fully cupping her face, and a shiver runs through her as fingers trail accidentally over skin.

Oh, this is a nice game.

Rising for air, Spike plants a kiss to her nose.  His smirk and his cheeks are definitely redder than they were a moment before. 

“There. Now you’ve kissed a man with one eye.”

[i-amm-writing]

I made this meme, and it describes me so well. . .lol

[earthlostgirl]

Today I was feeling a bit nostalgic and I thought of writing about my first OTP.

Rogue and Gambit ( in the first steps of their relationship)

a bit of fluffy smut

Globes

Remy waited for her in his bedroom. Sitting Indian-style on the floor, playing solitaire. He smiled at the sight of her. Rogue bolted the door, and he nodded at her with pure curiosity. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, that black uniform covered her completely. The green tank top had ceded over time and slid down her shoulder.

Remy stared her from top to bottom, making no secret of it. She noticed how he held back a teasing remark and gifted her with a wild grin.

She sat down in front of him and Remy showed her the queen of hearts.

"Just in time, chère, a sign of fate," he commented playfully.

Rogue took the card and smiled. She made herself pretty for him, she wondered if he had noticed. Or if he even cared.

"Do you trust me?" she asked in barely a whisper.

"With my heart and soul," he replied quickly. He always held a line ready on his lips. Sweet nothings. It made her cheeks burn. She looked away and heard him laugh.

"I mean it," she whispered in frustration. Maybe this was nothing but foolishness.

"Me too," he replied in a soft tone, caressing her hand.

"I want to try something," she murmured, biting her lip, looking into his eyes. She didn't even know why she was so nervous.

"I'm your guinea pig for whatever you want," He said humorously, pursing his lips in anticipation of a kiss.

She placed her gloved hand over his lips. The fabric was very thin, almost like a second skin.

"Close your eyes," she commanded.

" That sounds fun," He said with a half-open eye, still smiling cockily.

"Remy, please," she insisted.

"Ok, chère," he replied, closing his eyes obediently.

Rogue sighed nervously, her heart pounding. She looked at Remy, who remained seated, hands in his lap. With that insolent smile on his face. He was moving his legs, up and down.

Her hands were shaking, she took a deep breath and reached up to his cheek. Her fingers traced the line of his jaw and with her other hand she stroked his hair.

Remy's smile softened, and she kept tracing his face, like she could memorize it with her fingertips.

She slid her hands down his chest, and Remy gasped a little when she slipped her hands inside his shirt.

Rogue pulled it and as soon as it was off he grabbed her by the waist and held her closer to him. Almost a knee-jerk reaction.

She caressed his shoulders, running her fingers over the marks and imperfections of his skin. The scars on his chest, his moles. The lines of his muscles. She listened him gulp hard. Yet didn't dare look him in the eye. Rogue ran her hands down his ribs. Lingering on each one of them. She could hear him breathing in agitation. His hands fidgeted on her waist.

She paused before taking the next step.

"Look into my eyes," Gambit said almost in a plea as she placed her hands on his pants button.

She looked up, he was no longer smiling. His dark eyes seemed to pierce her. Shining with desire.

She unbuttoned his pants and felt Remy shudder at her touch.

"Oh fuck," he mumbled through his teeth.

There was a frantic heartbeat, and she didn't know if it was hers or his. His moans increased as she increased the pace. He gripped her waist tightly. His lips were parted, and he was looking at her with such intensity that it made her legs tremble.

He caressed her breast, whispering her name between gasps. Droplets of sweat ran down his face and he tightened his hold on her waist.

She moved her hand faster, and Remy closed his eyes, resting his head on her shoulder. His moans echoed in her ear. Making her heart beat with intensity. Remy's breath tickled her. As he mouthed soft words in French.

An eager pant slipped from his lips when she finished, and he stared at her in silence as his breathing settled down.

Remy smiled tenderly, wiped her hand with a delicate touch and kissed her fingers.

He wrapped his arms around her, resting his head on her shoulder.

"Let me kiss you, I don't care about the consequences, I would die happy in your arms," he whispered caressing her back and she knew he was being sincere.

"I wish I could, Remy," she replied. "I wish I could give you more than this."

"More? No one has ever given me this much before."

[earthlostgirl]

[earthlostgirl]

I tried very hard not to comment on the Cowboy Bebop action series.

I didn't like the idea. But I didn't want to be picky.

But after watching the teaser trailer, I'm pretty sure. It's going to be bad. Very bad. So bad that I'm going to love it.

That kind of bad, that you can't stop watching in admiration.