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p-receh · 10 months ago

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Since my previous posts talked about elementals. I want to write an essay about them from my perspective and possible theories and headcanon I gathered so far. It might not be accurate so fill me in if you want to add or correct some of it. I love open discussion ^^

I've seen some people thought that in the early season, all elementals had not have characteristics but changed after Halilintar's incident.

Boboiboy's emotions under circumstances not only triggered the true self of available elementals, but it also awakened the other elemental powers as well(hence how the rest 4 were born) like what anon said here.

This is gonna be looooong ted talk so I have to spilt this in two parts!

What I want to talk about is how interesting their character development throughout the series. Starting with the original trio!

(That 3rd picture lasted for a few minutes... I didn't even notice their communication at first. :'()

Their development was that drastic in the youth era. The unstoppable "the fun, the serious and the tough one"(edit: more like, "The Striker, Tacklerer, and The Goal Keeper in soccer terms. Don't ask why I thought about this a lot) which sparks Boboiboy as the hero of Pulau Rintis. But, it's starting to decrease during Galaxy onwards.

I know I know they need to blend with the others as well. (They got most of the screen time in every series after all). I already talked about it here.

(People say this year indirectly the reunion of this trio I guess? Windara and Gentaraju animated arc? ...

but... aaah well... my head's spinning right now >_<)

Halilintar/Thunderstorm.

What more to say about this person? haha, I've already talked about it from anon in the first link I put on before and this one.

But still, from the very first moment he arrived till today, I am almost certain my hypothesis then and now is coming true. Being just created as "the cool, serious" side of Boboiboy, This 'talk less, do slash more' guy unknowingly becomes the tsundere eldest due to his tragic incident.

He is such a supportive person behind that murder mask. Seeing rare moments that he actually cares for others whenever he can is an absolute miracle. God, the season 2 comic and Sori continuingly showed his soft side from youth era. wtf my 12-year-old me is screaming right now! aaarghh! :3

(But that face in ep 5 when he's strangled lmaooooo X'D)

Taufan/Cyclone

One of my favorite things that I know about him is he enjoys whenever he's out. He truly loves all the thrilling fights, if not get the vibe, he instantly goes into a bad mood. Every poster I saw about him, always with his smile and never faded. That's why I was shocked when I saw his decision in Windara's arc. Finally, the man he always wanted to be, bravely giving it all in one v one fight. I'm so proud of him! T^T

His easygoing attitude reminds me of a certain hedgehog I knew hehe...both resemble the wind itself right? :] (I need to draw them in June)

Leading the Troublemaker trio is always fun to watch. And the fact that he looks at Hali as his role model is really cute! Despite him and Hali being the first two elements who had civil fights before, a bit sad these two are independent on their own from Galaxy onwards :'(

Gempa/Quake

Gempa got me confirmation that he is the leader of the elementals from the very first fight till now. I can see why he has the closest resemblance to Boboiboy himself (hence the hat position :] ).

To be fair, Gempa is the only elemental that I see no difference with Boboiboy. And with being one of the strongest elementals(with embedded two giant stone hands), he sure is a low-profile person and easily blends with other elementals. Now I know why he gets the title "Mama Gempa". He is unknowingly taking too much care of every elementals like a family ^^)' .

Even tho he's the last power to be introduced(in this trio) and sometimes people see him as a lone wolf in the group, he's natural at giving orders. The others actually listen to him and get scolded if they messed up! Like how parents do! X'D

How about the Temper Duo?

(Why monsta didn't put this dialog to Sori? :''(( )

How fitting the theme song of movie 2 titled Fire and water as well? Hehe.

Being the first two powers to be fused(the coolest name, "Frostfire" :} ), these two are what most people like to call "The polar opposites". The ones that used two hoodies in the youth era(except now only Ice wears it), the ones that had back-to-back introductions (exactly after Fire arrived, water showed up in the next episode, Galaxy season 1 also showcased the exact same pattern), the only two powers survived in movie 2, and even their own original masters lived in the same planet.

I'd say if these elementals do be brothers, these two were most likely born twins. (I know I may be late to this headcanon but hey why not? :/)

Blaze

The gremlin boi who got more screentime in sori than his partner. I absolutely adore this boy in Galaxy onwards. His wild and reckless traits are always the main attraction whenever I watch his combat style. I still think since season 3 and movie 1 He should've gotten a brass knuckle type as a weapon than the fire disc. He's a close combat brawler, right?

Anyway, he might be the one who hasn't changed much since his youth until now. In fact, I'd say he is a pretty consistent character from the start. Only gets wilder and cheekier to his fellow elementals tehee~. But that's the beauty of having a friend like Blaze. If done right, Blaze could shock you with his kindness and care deeply for others. Just like how he did with Duri once he accidentally broke Duri's plant in one of Boboiboy's official posts. (Sori ep 3 and comic made my day lmao)

Ais/Ice

If I can relate to one elemental, I choose Ice. He likes to eat yet is frightened to get fat like he did in his youth era; a very sleepy person; also an introverted person but he is confident when surrounded by his closest circle. And most of my friends are usually the Blaze type. So I can understand how to handle that person ^^)'

Ehem. Ice's first tier, Air/Water, got me confused at first. Mainly how he summons his power. Somehow Ice fixed that issue. Making his right arm purely made of ice is genius. My headcanon is every weapon or power he uses comes from his right arm. His cannon comes from his right arm, the same as the bow & arrow one. Even so, many scenes contradict that(Boboiboy is an ambidextrous guy).

Can I say I'm glad from Galaxy onwards he's a bit more open than in his youth era or just me? This doesn't count during the transition mode. All I see now is that he showed more emotions than Hali. (Also whoever decided Ice's tears become snowflakes, I salute you sir)

Last but not least! The Photosynthesis duo!

(I talk about this scene before but holy shit this scene is always mesmerizing to watch)

Duri and Solar were also made me adore them if not because of season 2 & Sori. Okay, I have to confess first to avoid misconception:

I was disappointed when Duri and Solar showed up in movie 1.

My selfish youth still took some time to get used to with Fire and Water in season 3. And all I think was negative reactions when Duri and Solar showed up. That's... also the reason why I went on hiatus.

Luckily, hence the word "was" I put it there.

I'm very grateful that they reset his watch back to start, so then they can at least make a proper debut with both Duri and Solar in Galaxy series. I much prefer that method. (That last episode was truly huge, I'm shocked they went that grand)

Therefore, Sori could continue to make the audience know better about these two! Pretty creative I'd say! I can see why the last three episodes are fan favorites. Me personally love eps 5 & 6.

Duri/Thorn

The most unique symbol to draw to, Duri truly shines in galaxy 2 comic and Sori. His debut in galaxy 1--oh wait, in Eid Fitri's short video after movie 1 made me confused with Taufan at first. Even though he's got more screen time than Solar, Duri still surprised people with the recent series. Who knew his childish and clumsy features could do unverbal damage to enemies by his words? Count me in! He might not do that to his friends and families, but he will delightedly do so with Solar :D

And thanks to Sori, I can now differentiate between Taufan and Duri more clearly. His design in Sori especially the last three is my fav. I love what Monsta did the effects on his arms. Since he doesn't has a signature weapon, they create a 2D flash-winded green leaf around his arm like a coil. That is a very cute detail for Duri.

A bit surprised when every elemental went to serious mode in Windara's arc, only Duri still managed to find fun in the battle. Heck even Taufan dropped his smile during that.

Solar

Being the trump card of the group, I can see why he is the last elemental to be introduced, both in movie 1 and galaxy series. The hardest one to obtain his 2nd tier that requires proper research and pure luck, Solar's traits are also what makes him interesting. To be honest I didn't expect his characteristic to be like this, at all. And somehow very matched with his design and attack as well. Every aspect is strangely in synch I'm astonished. (Adding a visor to his 2nd tier is uhh *chef's kiss B=) )

Also, I love that his attacks use his finger that's also kinda easter egg of the famous "Ray Gun!" shot attack from Yu Yu Hakusho(look it up, there's a live-action ver if you want to know the short ver of the series. The anime itself is legendary to all weebs out there).

Regardless of his limited screentime in every series. I'm very much grateful Monsta treats him equally. His timing in Sori is exceptional and his popularization bursting successfully. My only hope he didn't get cut in Windara and let all elementals showed up. When was the last time Boboiboy did that without splitting to 7?....

... Well if you count heptasplit part, the last time he did that was in Movie 1. That's 9 years ago.

Now we're done here? Nice! Onto the theory part in reblog!

#boboiboy #boboiboy galaxy #bbbg #bbbglxs2 #I want to make gif but my laptop and phone couldn't keep up anymore #Rip my files...#I'm not done yet!

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foundtherightwords · 1 month ago

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As the Sun Will Rise - Chapter 17

Pairing: Grunauer (Overlord) x OFC, Beauty & the Beast retelling

Summary: After losing most of his unit in a disastrous D-Day mission, Derwin Grunauer returns to his hometown near Miami, body riddled with scars and heart heavy with guilt, only to find his neighbors shunning him due to his German name. He retreats into his family mansion and remains there, unwilling to rejoin the living, until the day Alba Reyes turns up at his door with a basket full of warm bread. As the daughter of a Cuban immigrant, Alba knows something of being an outsider, and when she offers to work for Derwin as his housekeeper, it is not only to pay off her father's debt to the Grunauers, but also because she feels some connection to the reclusive young man. When that connection develops into something more, they must overcome both the town's prejudice and their own doubts to find happiness.

Chapter warnings: non-explicit smut

Chapter word count: 5.9k (sorry this chapter is a bit longer than usual; I tried to break it up but couldn't, so here we are)

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Derwin had never looked forward to Christmas, even when he was a boy. His mother's ill health meant that every celebration had to be carefully timed and always ended too soon, or else it would tire her out. And later, after she'd passed away, seeing all the other happy families had only reminded Derwin of how small and lonely his own family was. His father had tried, bless his heart, but he had never been much good at being fun or spontaneous, poor old Dad, and Christmas with just the two of them had always been rather awkward.

This year was the first time Derwin had been excited for Christmas. A cold front had come in, turning the air crisp and cool outdoors and making it cozy indoors, and for once the Christmas decorations fitted right in, as did the scent of pine needles from the tree and the smell of cinnamon and cloves from the cookies that Alba brought—they weren't Cuban, but, as she explained, her father understood the need to cater to their American customers. However, the real reason Derwin was excited, and nervous as well, was that Alba had insisted on him spending the day with her family, no ifs or buts about it.

"I want them to know about us," she'd told him. The way she'd said us went straight to his heart, so casual, yet with so much love and even a touch of pride as well, and he couldn't refuse her, even though he was quaking at the thought of Mr. Reyes, with his booming voice and critical eyes, judging Derwin as his daughter's suitor. But Derwin knew sooner or later they would have to face that particular hurdle, and with Alba there with him, he would be able to get over it.

The other reason he was nervous about Christmas was that Alba's plan didn't stop at Christmas dinner with her family. Apparently Frank knew a valet at some swanky hotel in South Beach and had managed to secure tickets to a Christmas dance there, and he had invited Beatriz and Alba along. So for the past week, Alba had been trying to persuade Derwin to join them.

"What on Earth would I do at a dance?" he'd said, gesturing to his cane. "I'd be the laughing stock."

"Nonsense. You danced perfectly well that night with the storm, remember?"

As if he could ever forget. But they had been alone then, and had the entire living room to themselves, and he'd still managed to nearly knock a lamp off a table with his cane. In a crowded ballroom, with other people around? Forget about it.

"Besides, you still owe me a proper date," she added.

It was true. It had been two weeks since their outing on the boat, and although they laughed about it with each other, Derwin still felt a twinge of embarrassment whenever he remembered it.

Not wanting to turn her down outright, he'd only given her a non-committal "I'll think about it." Alba refused to leave it at that and had been asking "Have you thought about it yet?" every day since.

Now, as he was putting the finishing touch to Alba's Christmas present, she burst into the study with a look that indicated she was going to ask that question again. He hid the present in a drawer and looked up sheepishly.

"It's three days away, you know," she said. "If you're not going, then at least tell me, so Frank can give our tickets to someone else."

"You're not going?"

She shrugged. "I don't have a date, do I?"

"Look, Alba," he began, reaching for her hand to soften his words. "I'm really sorry, but I don't know if I can..." He knew there was a very good chance that he would have fun if he went to the dance. He'd always had fun whenever he went out with Alba, not because of anything they did in particular, but because he liked being with her, simple as that. But he wasn't sure if he could face a ballroom full of people just yet, even with her by his side.

Alba peered at him for a moment or two, and a twinkle came into her eyes. She went to the gramophone in the corner, selected a record, and put it on. "This gentleman obviously doesn't believe in making love," she sang along with the music while dancing toward him, a mischievous smile on her lips. "What do you think, Otto?" Alba asked. "Isn't this the perfect song for Derwin or what?" The dog, lying in a patch of sunlight on the floor, tapped his tail in approval. Traitor.

Alba turned smugly to Derwin. "See, even Otto agrees."

Derwin tried to keep a stern face, but he couldn't help laughing at that. "Yeah, because he loves ganging up on me with you," he said.

Alba was now in front of him. "The gentleman obviously doesn't believe in moonlight walks," she continued singing and tugged at his hands, trying to get him to dance with her. He grinned but refused to budge. He was enjoying this too much. "Alone with a girl and he'd faint—"

"That's clearly not true. I'm alone with you and I haven't fainted yet—"

"Yes, that's just what he'd do. He's one of those gents who just hasn't the sense to thrill to a kiss." Here she bent down and gave him little kisses in time with the music. "Like me"—one on his forehead—"and you"—one on the tip of his nose—"and you"—and finally, one of his lips. "Well?" she asked, smiling down at him.

Still sitting in his chair, he grabbed her waist and yanked her close, so their noses and lips met, fitted together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. A laugh of surprise escaped her throat and died away immediately when he pressed his mouth to hers. The last notes of the song died away, and a delicious silence followed, broken only by a whisper from Derwin, "OK, I'll go."

***

That Saturday, Derwin felt a bit like Cinderella before the ball as he brushed his best and only suit, brought years ago for his high school graduation, which thankfully still fitted him. Alba was coming by with Frank and Beatriz in Marty's car, and then Alba and Derwin would take their own car and meet up with them at the hotel. Alba had insisted on going in separate cars, and Derwin smiled to himself, knowing it was her subtle way not only to have some privacy to themselves, but to give Frank and Beatriz some as well. Marty and Claudia, unfortunately, had to miss out, as their baby was too small to be left for a whole evening.

He was wrestling with the bowtie in front of the mirror in the hall when he heard the sound of tires on the gravel, followed by voices calling "See you there!", and then the car drove away again. Otto stood by the door wagging his tail, looking a little confused that Alba was arriving at night and coming through the front door instead of the back as usual.

His eyes still glued to the maddening bowtie, Derwin heard the swishing of her dress before he saw her. Then he looked up, caught her reflection in the mirror, and whirled around, dazed, the bowtie forgotten around his neck.

Alba was wearing a yellow dress, the same dress they'd seen in the shop window, the one he'd offered to buy for her and she'd refused. He was right. The dress fitted her perfectly, not just in the way it hugged her shoulders and waist, molded around her breasts and arms, and fell in graceful folds around her hips and legs as she walked, but also in the way it framed her like a golden halo, lit her up both from the outside and inside. It was like a miniature sun had suddenly appeared in his darkened front hall.

While he gazed at her with his mouth open, too stunned to say a word, she walked to him and gave him a peck on the lips, as casually as she had done every morning. "I'm afraid you're on your own with that," she said, nodding at the bowtie still dangling around his neck. "I'm no good at that sort of thing."

Derwin recovered his wits and shook his head. "It's OK, I got it." He finished tying the bowtie, ignoring how lopsided it was, and turned to her again, unable to keep his eyes off her for long. "You look—" Words failed him. "—gorgeous," he finished inadequately.

She smiled, looking both shy and proud. "I told you I'd buy the dress myself, didn't I? Wish I had enough money for the shoes as well." She glanced down at her feet, clad in her old off-white sandals. "But they don't show, so who cares, right?" She fixed his bowtie, then stepped back to look him over with a critical eye. "You look very handsome too," she said. "But something's missing."

"What?"

Alba's eyes landed on the bowl of frangipani flowers set on the side table near the door. She dug in the junk drawer and came up with two safety pins—Derwin was again astonished at her ability to find things in his house that he didn't even know existed. These she fixed to the back of two of the largest and freshest flowers, pinned one to his lapel, and gave him the other to put on her hair, which was swept back in soft waves over her forehead and pulled into a chignon in the back. "No, not that side, the left side," she said, turning her head so he could pin the flower in place.

"Why the left side?" Derwin asked, curious.

"When Raf was stationed in Hawaii, he told me if a woman wears a frangipani flower over her left ear, that means she's in a relationship," explained Alba, a faint blush turning her cheeks pink and making her look even prettier.

"Oh" was all Derwin could say, but his heart leaped and jumped. He looked at the two of them in the mirror and wondered, not for the first time, how he got so lucky.

"Ready?" she said, putting her arm through his.

"Wait." He held her hand. "I have something for you too."

He went into the little broom closet at the end of the hall and brought out the box he'd put there that morning. Inside was a pair of gold shoes, the shoes that had been on display along with the dress. Alba's eyes popped when she saw them.

"How did you—?"

"I had a hunch." It was more than a hunch. After he'd agreed to go to the dance, Derwin had driven back to the shop to look at the dress, hoping Alba would let him buy it for her this time. When the saleswoman told him a young lady had bought it already, he'd known right away that it was Alba. So he had bought the next best thing.

He motioned for her to sit down on a chair. Then, kneeling in front of her, he took off the sandals and slipped the soft gold leather over her stockinged feet.

"Now I know how Cinderella must have felt," Alba said, turning her ankle this way and that so she could get a better look at the shoe.

Derwin smiled. "Cinderella tries on the shoe after the ball," he reminded her.

"How did you know my shoe size?"

"Lucky guess," he said, not revealing that it was the saleswoman who had helped him.

"Thank you."

"Can't you thank a fellow better than that?" he asked, lifting his face to her.

She leaned down and kissed him, softly at first, and then again, not as softly. His hands were still on her ankles, and he slid them up, caressing her legs, until he reached the bare skin between her garter and her stocking. "We really have to get going, you know," she said, but didn't stop him.

"It's called being fashionably late," he murmured, smiling against her lips.

***

"Where have you been?!" Beatriz exclaimed when Derwin and Alba finally pulled up in front of the hotel. "We've been waiting for almost half an hour!"

"Sorry, we got—delayed," Alba said with a conspiratorial grin at Derwin. Beatriz raised an eyebrow at that, but made no further comment.

Derwin shook Frank's hand and saw his own emotions reflected on the other man's face—fluster, excitement, and even pride, as he looked upon his date. Clearly, this was a big night for Frank as well.

"Come on, the band's starting already," Beatriz said, tugging Alba toward the staircase leading up to the hotel's front doors, where the crowd, glittering women in their evening gowns, starchy men in their black and white tuxedos and dinner jackets, was streaming in.

"Relax. It's called being fashionably late," Alba said and winked at Derwin, who couldn't help grinning back. He extended his arm to her, and they walked up the steps, followed closely behind by Beatriz and Frank. Through the double doors, they could glimpse the inside of the ballroom, where a giant Christmas tree stood reaching all the way to the ceiling, dazzling with tinsels and baubles. More tinsels and baubles hung from the ceiling, reflecting the light from the chandelier, making Derwin feel he was outside in the middle of a bright summer's day. Tables with bowls of punch and snacks stood on either side of the vast ballroom, and at the far end, the band sat in front of a brocade curtain, striking up a lively jazz number.

Giggling in excitement, the girls and Frank ran on ahead, but Derwin faltered. It was too bright, too loud, too crowded, and the old trembling feeling in the pit of his stomach was coming back. He paused at the top of the stairs, trying to steady himself by tightening his grip on the cane. Alba turned around and took his hand in hers, concerned.

"You OK?" she asked.

He took a deep breath, finding strength in her hand. "Yeah," he managed to say.

"You sure? We can leave, if you're not feeling up to it."

He would not ruin this for her. "No, it's fine. I'll be fine." He smiled to reassure her, and they went to the door. A man stood there in a black tux and a collar with so much starch that Derwin wondered how he could even lower his chin, taking tickets from the guests.

"Welcome, sir," he said monotonously, taking the tickets from Derwin and Alba. "Welcome, madam." Then his eyes landed on Frank and widened slightly. "I'm sorry, but he's not allowed here," the man said to Derwin, mistaking him for the leader of the group.

"What?" Alba and Beatriz said in unison.

"Indians are not allowed here," the man repeated, a cold edge to his voice.

"But he has a ticket—" Beatriz protested.

"It is our policy," the man said. His neck, if possible, got even stiffer.

"Where is this policy written, then?" Alba asked. "Show me. Is it printed on the ticket? Is there a sign at your front desk?"

"It's an established custom," the man said, inexorably.

Derwin looked at Frank. A flush darkened Frank's swarthy face, and his hands were balled into fists, but he kept his chin up and his back ramrod straight. "It's OK," he said quietly. "You three go ahead. Don't spoil your evening because of me." He turned and started walking down the steps. Beatriz looked close to tears. Alba's nostrils flared in a way Derwin recognized, but she kept close to Beatriz and watched Frank go helplessly.

A sense of déjà vu washed over Derwin. It was like that day at the diner with the black couple all over again. Except back then, he had stood by, not doing anything, only feeling hot shame burning his insides. He didn't know that couple. But he knew Frank.

"Hang on a minute," he said, grabbing Frank's arm. "Frank, where did you serve in the war?"

"The 124th Infantry," Frank said, puzzled. "The Pacific."

"I was in the 82nd Airborne," Derwin said to the man at the door. "Frank Howard and Derwin Grunauer. You can look us up if you don't believe me. And think what it means to your hotel's reputation when words get out that you deny two GIs entrance to your Christmas ball."

The man spluttered. His shirt collar seemed to wilt in front of their very eyes. Finally, after one more look at Frank, and another look at the crowded ballroom behind him, he said, through clenched teeth, "Perhaps an exception can be made for our men in service," and yanked the ticket out of Frank's hand. "Enjoy your evening," he added, with a look that implied he wished they would all drop dead.

"Thank you," Frank said to Derwin, as they walked into the ballroom. "But you didn't have to do that."

"Yes, I did," Derwin said. He was sick of standing by the sideline, sick of watching all the injustice, and sick of feeling helpless. No more, he told himself. From now on, he was going to take whatever life threw at him, both the good and the bad.

Next to him, Alba said nothing, only squeezed his hand a little more tightly. When Beatriz and Frank weren't looking, she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and that was all the reward he could ever want or need.

The dance was in full swing by the time they entered the ballroom. Beatriz and Frank joined the crowd immediately, busting out some complicated moves to the cheerful sound of "Don't Sit under the Apple Tree." The beat was fast, too fast. Derwin didn't know how he could manage it with his cane. But Alba was prepared. She wove her way through the crowd, leading him to a quiet spot on the edge of the dance floor. Here, she put an arm around him and lifted his hands to her waist, while resting her other hand on his cane, just as she had when they danced together during the storm.

"We don't have to impress anybody," she said. "Just move to the music."

And so they did. They stood there, arms around each other, swinging and tapping their feet to the music, out of the way of the other dancers. Some people threw them curious glances, making Derwin's skin itch like ants crawling all over him, but Alba put a finger on his chin to direct his attention back to her, and he breathed more easily again.

After a few songs, Derwin's leg started to protest, so he got himself a glass of punch and sat down at a table, while Alba, at his urging, went back and danced with Frank and Beatriz. Derwin watched her with the same wonder tinged with wistfulness he always felt whenever he looked at her, wonder that a girl like her would want to be with him, and wistfulness that she was forced to rein in her vivacity to stay by his side. But that night, with his newfound determination, he no longer felt so wistful. Alba chose to be with him. And he would do everything he could to make sure she never had to regret it.

The band was coming back from their break. Though his leg was still complaining, Derwin walked up to the stage and spoke to the band leader. He turned around to see Alba smiling at him. "What'd you just say to him?" she asked.

"You'll see," he said. "Or, should I say, you'll hear."

Her eyebrows went up. She soon got her answer when the band launched into a slow rendition of "Green Eyes". Only when the vocalist started singing, it wasn't "Green Eyes", it was "Aquellos Ojos Verdes", and Alba's mouth dropped open in surprise. Next to her, Beatriz also grinned, delighted with this reminder of their childhood memory.

"May I have this dance, señorita?" asked Derwin, extending a hand toward Alba.

Still smiling, she placed her hand in his. He led her to the middle of the floor, swinging his cane in a wide circle. The crowd parted around them like a current. To hell with those people. Let them stare. Let them see how lucky he was to have such a beautiful girl in his arms. Let them be jealous.

As they danced to the song, turning and twirling as they had the night of the storm, something strange happened to Derwin. He looked into Alba's green eyes, felt the warmth of her body close to his, smelled the familiar scent of the frangipani in her hair, and let the music flow through him. And the rest of the ballroom faded away. Even the band vanished, leaving behind only the sound of music, like magic. All his worries disappeared. There was no one else in the world but the two of them, there was nowhere else he'd rather be, and more importantly, he knew that there was nowhere else she would rather be either.

Even when the song ended, they remained in their embrace, smiling at each other.

"You're full of surprises, aren't you?" Alba whispered.

He tilted her face up. "Oh yes," he said. "And here's another surprise for you..."

Before their lips could touch, a voice said behind them, loudly and rudely, "Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

Derwin whirled around. Sauntering toward them was a tall, handsome, dark-haired man in a white jacket, followed by several cronies, decidedly less handsome and less well-dressed. There was something vaguely familiar about the dark-haired man, but Derwin couldn't place that arrogant face.

Beside him, Alba let out a groan.

"Not happy to see me, Allie?" the dark-haired man said. He was coming quite close now, close enough for Derwin to smell the reek of alcohol on his breath. "I've missed you, you know."

Alba tugged at Derwin's hand. "Come on, let's go," she said, but the dark-haired man blocked their way, while his cronies formed a wall behind them. Beatriz and Frank, noticing the standoff, were approaching with concern.

"Now that's very rude," the dark-haired man said to Alba. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your—date? I don't need an introduction to know who he is, though. Grunauer, is it?" He barely even glanced at Derwin, as if Derwin was some vermin not worth his attention. "Really, Allie? Him? You threw me over for a cripple?"

Alba's eyes flashed with the green fire that Derwin had come to know quite well. "I didn't throw you over for anyone, Grant," she said, voice dripping with contempt. "When are you going to get it through your thick head? We are not together. We have never been together. And we're never going to be together!"

As she mentioned the name, Derwin suddenly remembered where he'd seen the dark-haired man before. "You're Gastin Grant," he said. "From Grant's Land. You offered to buy my place."

"That's right, buddy." Grant sneered at him. "And mark my word, I'll get my hand on that place eventually. Just as I'll get my hand on this one—" He reached out and grabbed Alba's arm, wrenching her away from Derwin.

Derwin pushed at Grant's chest. It was rather like pushing at a brick wall, but he did it anyway. "Let her go," he said.

Grant grinned at him. "Or what? What are you going to do about it, cripple?"

A red-hot veil of rage fell over Derwin's eyes. A small crowd was now gathering around them. Frank stepped in. "Hey, there's no need for that kind of language—" he said. Grant nodded at his cronies, who knocked Frank to the ground. Beatriz ran over to help him up.

Derwin looked at Alba, still struggling to free herself from Grant's iron grip, and tried to swallow his anger. "I don't want to make a scene," he said to Grant. "But if you don't leave right now, I'm going to—"

WHAM! Grant's fist flew out of nowhere. Blindsided, Derwin went sprawling on the floor. Through the ringing in his ears, he could hear Grant taunting him, "Going to do what? Think you can threaten me, cripple? Get up! Get up and face me, or are you too much of a chicken shit who can only shoot others when their backs were turned?"

Derwin scrambled for his cane, trying to push himself up, but black spots were swimming in front of his eyes and he couldn't see.

"He's not a chicken shit," he heard Alba's voice say quite calmly. "You are."

There was a sharp thwack, the crowd went "ooh", and something collapsed beside him with a heavy thud. Next thing Derwin knew, Alba was helping him to his feet. "You OK?" she asked.

His eyes cleared, and he saw that Grant was curled up on the floor, a hand clasped to his bleeding nose. His cronies were staring at Alba with something akin to awe as they slowly dispersed, dragging their fallen leader with them.

"Here." Alba led Derwin to a table, where she put some ice into a napkin and placed it on his cheek. That was when Derwin saw that her knuckles were scratched and bleeding.

"You're hurt," he said.

"It's nothing." She tried to pull away, but Derwin held her hand and put some ice on it as well.

Beatriz and Frank came running over. "Alba!" Beatriz exclaimed. "That was—"

"If you're going to say it wasn't ladylike of me, you can zip it," Alba snapped.

"No. I was going to say that was awesome." Beatriz grinned at her sister. "Grant's a heel. He deserves it."

Before Alba could answer, the pompous man at the door came toward them. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave," he said, clearly relishing it.

Alba, apparently still in a belligerent mood, jumped up to protest, but Beatriz held out a hand to stop her. "Let's go," Beatriz said. "This party blows anyway."

"Bea!" Alba looked shocked. "Language!"

Beatriz shrugged. "What? It does." She took Frank's hand. "Come on, Frank, let's go." She winked at Alba, and they all left the ballroom with their heads held high, ignoring the stares of the other patrons.

***

Alba was still shaking with rage when they got into the car and drove away. She knew she shouldn't have lost her temper like that, but Grant had gotten her so angry that she couldn't think straight. She had been looking forward to this night for so long, and now it was ruined. And just when everything was going so well too!

"Are you OK?" asked Derwin. "Do you want me to drive?"

Alba forced herself to breathe normally. No, she would not let Grant's cursed mug darken her moods anymore. "I'm fine," she said. "Do you mind if we drive around a bit before going home? I want to get some air." Frank and Beatriz were going to a club over on Cocoanut Grove, but Alba didn't feel like accompanying them. She just wanted to make sure she and Beatriz came home around the same time, to avoid any awkward questions from Papi.

"I'd love that," said Derwin with a smile.

They drove slowly down South Beach, past the hotels and nightclubs on one side, with their glittering lights and laughing partygoers, and occasional glimpses of the murmuring ocean on the other. The windows were rolled down, and Alba's anger soon melted away in the cool December air. Eventually, they left the swanky hotels behind and came to a deserted stretch of sand. The lights of downtown shimmered behind them like stars, and the causeway, the one they'd taken to Key Biscayne months ago, curved palely across the dark waves like a sliver of the moon.

"I'm sorry we have to cut our night short," Alba said.

Derwin shrugged. "I've had as much dancing as my legs can take, I think. And we're still here. The night is not over yet."

"Are you all right?" she asked. He was still holding the ice wrapped in a napkin to his face, and the melting ice was dripping down his wrist.

"Oh yeah." He put the napkin down and felt about his face. "The swelling's gone down. What about you?" He gestured to her hand.

"It's just a scratch." She took her right hand off the wheel and stretched it across the seat to show him. He took it in his hand, wrapping his fingers around it, gently running his thumb over the scratches and massaging her wrist, which was still sore, despite her attempt to make light of it.

"One hell of a right hook you got," he said, grinning. Then he sobered up. "But I can't keep letting you fight for me like that. That's twice now..."

Alba twined her fingers through his, squeezing his hand. "I like fighting for you."

Derwin was still caressing her hand. Then he lifted it and pressed a kiss to her bruised knuckles. Under his soft, fervent lips, the smarting from the scratches vanished instantly, and Alba could feel tingles running up her arm, toward her chest.

"Could you pull over?" Derwin said.

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's just that I really want to kiss you and I don't want us to crash."

Something in his eyes as he said it made her pulse beat wildly in her breast. "Can't you wait until we get home?" she asked with a teasing smile.

"No, I don't think I can."

Alba had barely pulled over under the low branches of a coconut palm when Derwin drew her to him and started kissing her as he'd never kissed her before, his mouth insistent and demanding, a hand behind her ear, the other running over the bodice of her dress, caressing her side with grasping, impatient strokes. Usually it took some coaxing from her to get him comfortable, and even then he remained shy and hesitant. This passion was new, and just like his confidence when they went out on the boat or when he confronted the doorman at the hotel, Alba found it electrifying. She twisted, trying to get closer to him, but the wheel and the dashboard were in the way.

"You want to move to the backseat?" she murmured against his lips.

His eyes widened, and for a second, Alba's heart faltered. Oh no. What would he think of me now? What kind of girl would suggest such a thing...? But he only said "Yes" in an excited whisper, and was out of his seat in an instant.

Alba scrambled out of the driver's seat. They opened the doors at the same time and fell into each other's arms in the back. Derwin's jacket came off, followed by his bowtie. The buttons on the front of her dress came undone, by his hand or hers, she didn't know, and the dress was pushed down her shoulders, along with the straps of her slip. He fumbled with the clasps of her bra.

"Just pull it—here—let me—" Alba reached behind her, trying to help him undo the clasps.

"Ow," he mumbled as her elbow brushed across the bruise on his cheek.

"Sorry." That set them giggling like two idiots, his face pressed into her neck, his breath tickling her.

"Aren't you going to make it better?" he asked, and she placed her lips to the bruise, just as he'd done for her. Her tongue grazed across his scar, and he moaned softly.

They kissed again, kissed until their lips were bruised, until they had drunk up the lingering sweetness of punch on each other's tongue, until the coolness from the ice evaporated from his cheek, replaced by a warming fire that burned between them. Somehow her bra ended up around her midriff. Then his lips trailed down her throat to her collarbone and her breasts, and her laughter turned into quickening gasps. She lifted her hips, needing some friction, some pressure, something to relieve the building, throbbing heaviness between her legs. The movement only resulted in her sliding off the tiny seat, and she would've ended up on the floor if Derwin hadn't sat up and hauled her into his lap. Laughing, she half-rose to straddle him and banged her head on the ceiling. It only made her laugh harder, and Derwin was laughing as well. Then she sat down, with him fitting perfectly in the dip between her thighs, and their laughs died off as they looked into each other's eyes, breathless, waiting.

"Are you sure about this?" Derwin asked.

They were in his car, panting like they were both on fire, with his shirt unbuttoned and her dress half-off, and he still had to ask. But she wouldn't want him any other way.

"Yes," she said. "What about you? Is it enough of a proper date for you?"

He grinned. "Well, we've had two half dates, and two halves make a whole." He brushed a strand of hair away from her face. "But—"

"You won't get me into trouble," she said firmly, catching his meaning. "I trust you."

There was that quivering little smile again. "Do you?"

"Yes."

Still he hesitated, his fingers dancing over her spine and shoulder blades and the back of her arms, sending delicious shivers all through her. Then he blurted out, "We can get married."

"What?"

"Not right at this moment. But tomorrow. Or Monday. We don't even have to tell anybody, just go to City Hall and do it quick, the two of us," he said in a rush. Clearly it was something he'd just thought of.

"So you can make an honest woman out of me?" she said, laughing.

"Or so you can make an honest man out of me."

Alba gazed at him in the yellow light of the street lamps. She ran her hand over his features and saw in them not just the face she'd come to hold so dear in just a few months, but also his heart, his kindness, his strength. She thought about how her life had changed since he came into it, and, for the first time, thought about their future. Then she dropped her hand and said, with not inconsiderable regret, "... No."

Derwin's face fell. "You don't want to marry me?"

"No, no, cariño," she said quickly, "it's not that I don't want to marry you. I don't... I don't want to marry anybody. Not yet. You do understand that, don't you?" But even as she said it, she knew he understood. He always did. "Besides, I don't think we should get married just to have sex," she added, her cheeks heating up again. "What if the sex turns out to be bad? Where would we go then?"

"You think it'll be bad?"

"I don't know." She leaned down and whispered, teasing his ear with her lips and her tongue, "Why don't we find out?"

And they did. As their mouths and hands and bodies found each other again, and at last, at last, as ecstasy crashed over her like waves crashing over the sand outside, Alba realized that the night was far from ruined. Quite the opposite.

Chapter 18

Here's the song that Alba sings: The Gentleman Obviously Doesn't Believe (In Love)

Taglist: @kitkat80, @hahahafucku

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic #grunauer #grunauer overlord #overlord 2018 #grunauer x ofc #grunauer smut #joseph quinn smut

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jhilsara · 9 months ago

Text

I Can See You

Pt. 1/ Pt. 2/ Pt. 3/ Pt. 4/ Pt. 5/pt. 6/Pt. 7/Pt. 8/Pt. 9/ Pt. 10/

Pt. 11/ Pt.12/Pt.13/Pt. 14/Pt.15/Pt.16/Pt.17/END

Mariana Jimenez-Watson or MJ works in a normal pub living life paycheck to paycheck. Nothing exciting happens to her except the occasional drunk getting thrown out. She's 24 working away and finds a wrench thrown into her very boring life. His name is Hobie and she thinks maybe, a little excitement isn't awful. In fact she might start to crave some change for once.

Small moments of Hobie meeting his world's MJ. AKA I made an MJ variant and I think she's neat.

Chapter 3

She’s standing outside the pub waiting for Hobie to pick her up. She’s bouncing on her feet in excitement as she looks down the street seeing his silhouette.

His hands are shoved in his vest pockets as a crooked smile crosses his face when he sees her.

“I take it you're ready then?” He asks looking her over with an amused expression. She's practically vibrating with joy.

“Absolutely! I love this group, I didn’t even know they were in town.” She says smiling brightly at him.

Hobie’s eyes lazily look over her and she raises a brow. “What, is it there something on me?” She asks cocking her head.

“Nah, you just look good is all.” He says flicking a golden star on her dangling belt that’s attached to her skirt. "Color compliments your skin."

She gives a quick spin in her outfit, showing off her skirt and some glitter flies off of her. “Thanks, wanted an excuse to wear some fun colors!” She snickers and starts walking down the street. “C’mon I don’t wanna be late.”

Hobie just gives a chuckle as he shakes his head and walks beside her comfortably.

The small rock show is playing inside one of the shitty abandoned buildings on the streets of Old York. The place is practically falling apart but that’s half the charm of it. Many bands have played shows there for years and it’s mostly safe. Occasionally a brick will fall but it’s usually not around people. It's in a warehouse that's in some old industrial district, MJ's been there for a few other shows and has always had a great time. This show is probably the biggest crowd she's seen at this venue.

The two of them make their way in and shove through the sea of people. MJ is practically vibrating in excitement and Hobie’s just watching her joy. She can feel his stare but when she turns to look he's just giving her the softest smile. It blossoms a warmth in her chest.

When the band walks out and starts playing the crowd roars to life. The building may be cramped but it’s fun and has electricity in the air. The band had brought a fog machine and the lights were bold colors of flashing pinks, yellows, and purples and it flood her senses. It's hot and sweaty as she dances and pulls Hobie along. He’s more than happy to join her, meeting her beat for beat.

The tight crowd makes it a little muggy but she doesn't care. Her olive tan skin is coating in a thin layer of sweat and she's scream singing along to the lyrics. Her hands are on Hobie's shoulders as she jumps to the beat just enjoying the night. Hobie's hands are on her waist as he holds her in place. Making sure she doesn't slam into anyone.

The ground shakes from the crowd dancing and singing together, but that’s normal. MJ has her head thrown back in laughter and joy, just enjoying her night. The people, noises, and lights over stimulating her in the best way.

Then the building starts to wobble. In a way that’s not a part of the music. It makes MJ trip over her own feet, Hobie catches her easily and they both look at each other in concern. She turns to look around and other people seemed to be stumbling as well. Even the band had stuttered in their music. Hobie’s hands move to graze her arm when another quake shakes them. The band keeps going and the rest of the crowd seems unphased at the second tremor.

MJ’s about to suggest they leave, feeling a pit in the bottom of her stomach. She's suddenly on edge and feels a shiver run down her spine when something crashes into the old building, shaking its structure causing parts to collapse. Hobie pushes MJ away from him and before she can yell to warn him. She narrowly misses the pillar that falls between them. Screams of panic disorient her and she can’t see past the smoke and dust kicking up. More tremors shake the ground and the building comes falling down in chunks.

“Hobie!” She screams, coughing and trying to find a way around the rubble separating them.

“I’m alright! Get out of here, I can’t climb over this. I’ll find you!” He shouts back.

Her body is telling her to run but she feels dread fill her at the idea of running off, “I’m not leaving without you!” She yells back, looking up over the fallen architecture.

The loud atmosphere of screams and falling debris almost deafens her. She can hear that there’s something flying around above them. She briefly wonders if it’s Spider-Man.

“I’m not asking you Mariana, I’m telling you to get out!” He shouts back, his tone leaving no room for an argument.

MJ freezes at him using her full name and she finds herself nodding even if he can’t see it. “Fine! But if you’re not outside in less than ten minutes, I’m coming back for you!” she yells her voice firm and determined.

She can almost see him shaking his head at her, “Got it.” He shouts back.

MJ turns to find an exit, she tries to follow the small amount of people who are left scattering. There had been a few more tremors and something exploding to cause a fire to start on the edge of the building. The fire licks at the feet of the brick walls tempting to trap the remaining people inside.

She’s trying to follow the crowd but upon turning the corner she’s come face to face with the culprit of the damage. She almost trips over her own feet as she back peddles to hide behind a piece of fallen wall.

The Vulture stands before her, hunching in on himself as he looks around. His movements are shaky and sporadic. He looks like a creature from a horror film with the way he moves his body. Her heart is racing as she realizes she’s stuck where she is until he moves. His body blocking the only exit she can make out, the fire blazing behind her.

“Arson I can handle, ruining a good show, that’s a real criminal offense.” She hears jokingly from above.

She looks up to see Spider-Man landing behind the Vulture, shooting his webs out and pulls the massive bird closer to him for a punch. She looks on in awe for a moment. She’s never been so close to an actual event like this and she’s frozen just watching him.

“Ugh, course it’s you.” The Vulture groans swatting his claws and cutting the webs. He flies up and shouts, “That wasn’t music, that was a public nuisance! Like you.”

The Vulture shakes his metal wings, shooting some of the sharp fake feathers at Spider-Man. Spider-Man easily dodges them, dancing around the projectiles. “Trying to kill people for the sake of your own personal music tastes feels a little…bitter? Petty? Dontcha think.” He says in a mocking tone.

MJ sees Spider-Man look down at her. She knows she needs to move, but she’s just watching the two of them fight. Her eyes watch them and she looks to the exit, it’s still dangerous if she tries to run for it. The Vulture is blocking the only good exit near her and the last thing she wants to do is get caught and used as a hostage against Spider-Man.

Spider-Man had been staring at her, he even nudges his head to the exit, but she shakes her head no. While he’s distracted the Vulture is able to attack knocking the spider down and rolling into the rubble.

Her eyes widen and she tries to not gasp. She knows he was begging her to run but she couldn’t. Now he’s laying on a broken wall unmoving.

She shuffles, trying to run so she can just find Hobie and get out. The Vulture encroaching on Spider-Man.

His body doesn’t move and it worries her. She sighs and curses under her breath, she doesn't debate for long before she’s looking for a heavy piece of debris. She tosses a few in her hand before she lands on one she’s comfortable with and looks over at the Vulture. His arm is raised toward the spider on the ground and she doesn’t think twice about chucking the heavy brick in her hand hitting the metal bird man directly in the head.

She ducks quickly and hides, holding her breath.

“Who’s there?!” the voice roars and echoes around her.

A shiver runs down her back but she tries to silently escape, hoping the smoke and dust will hide her. She just needs to give Spider-Man enough time. He had to be fine. He’s handled worse before.

“Who are you calling for, falling rocks? It’s almost like you knocked down a whole building.” A voice chuckles lightly from the distance.

She lets out a breath of relief and watches Spider-Man shoot webs and flinging the Vulture across the building. She uses her chance to escape sprinting toward the open air.

Once she’s outside, she’s panting and hacking up a lung. She looks around the street seeing everyone from the show has either scattered or stayed to watch what they can only hope to see through the layers of smoke. She’s covered in dust and she tries to take deep breathes, not realizing how much smoke she had inhaled.

MJ is frantically looking around, trying to find Hobie. She can’t see him in the sparse crowd, and he was someone who stood out. If it wasn't his height as a dead give away it would be his wicks. She knows Hobie wouldn’t have left without her and she whips back around looking at the collapsing building in fear. She bites her tongue making a collective decision to go back into the fire.

She takes a step forward but stops when she sees a silhouette walking toward her. She hopes and prays that it’s Hobie, but she just sees Spider-Man. She starts to feel her breathe quicken as panic sets in. Her body moves on its own as she rushes to go back into the thick smoke.

Spider-Man’s masked eyes widen and he reaches out quickly and grabs her shoulders stopping her from going back. “Hey, hey! It’s dangerous in there! Ya bonkers or what?” He shouts like she’s insane, which she probably is.

Her eyes are wild as she looks at him, tears brimming her eyes, “Please, I think my friend is still in there! I- I can’t find him.” She tells him, her voice is hitching and she starts to hyperventilate.

His grip tightens on her and he ducks his head to look her in the eyes. “I’ll find him if he’s in there okay? Promise.” He says softly.

Her eyes are trying to search for the truth but all she finds is the stark white of his masked eyes and she has to chose to trust him. It’s her only option.

“Please," her voice breaks "you have to find him.” She whispers, begging him.

He releases her and gently pushes her back toward the edge of the street where it’s safe. She just watches his back as he goes back into the destroyed building. She watches until she physically can't see him past the smoke and fire.

She’s clenching her hands tightly, leaving marks in her palm as all she can do is wait.

She sees another silhouette make its way towards her and the outline of his wicks has her releasing a shaky breath from her lips.

She sprints towards him and wraps her arms tightly around, hugging him close. She shoves her face into his shoulder, “I thought you fucking died in there!” She chokes out gripping onto him.

She feels him tense up for a moment, but it lasts for a split second before he’s exhaling and holding her too.

“Sorry, sorry, I got trapped for a moment.” He says, voice hoarse from the smoke.

She finally let’s go and pulls away and squints looking back toward the building. “Where did Spider-Man go?” She asks.

“He’s looking for others, in case they’re stuck.” He quickly tells her, moving himself to stand in front of her line of sight. His own face is concerned as he looks her over, “Are you okay?” he asks.

“I, uh,” She blinks for a moment trying to collect her thoughts. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Just smoke in my lungs, but that’s nothing new.” She jokes with a light laugh.

He nods giving her a smile, “C’mon let’s get out of here. Place is falling apart.” He says as a joke and plants his hand firmly on her lower back guiding her away from the wreckage.

#hobie brown #spider punk #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x oc #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse fanart #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman atsv #atsv #my art #spider man: across the spider verse

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internet-girl-friend · 2 months ago

Text

Do You Believe In Masochism?

12:45pm

In November 2023 I flew down to Los Angeles to meet an internet friend irl for the first time. The plan was that he'd pick me up from the airport and we'd drive directly to Pioneertown together.

"Hey so can I borrow your phone to let my family know I arrived?" "You got into a stranger's car and drove out to the desert with no service?"

I did. But my trust wasn't misplaced, and anyway, how else was I going to see the elusive, cult pop sensation Sky Ferreira?

She played Pappy and Harriet's and came on an hour late in a cloud of weed smoke, and the show was perfect... despite that and the fact that a veggie burger I'd had at the venue before made me throw up during her set.

While nothing could ever really compare to seeing her with my long-distance friend in a small desert dive, tonight I will see her again and I won't have to listen to I Blame Myself from my knees in a bathroom stall (at least not because I'm sick).

1:44am

I just got home and my ratio of Food I've Eaten to Beers I've Had is not in favour of me waking up feeling ready to move on Saturday (the Uhaul is booked).

We all met at Fringe Café right across from the venue -- me, Braydon, Grace, Brandon, and Allison. I had a hot dog served in a Bahn Mi bun and it gave me fear that I might meet the same fate as I did during I Blame Myself (it didn't).

People were lined up at 6:00pm, all of them no older than 19. I laughed to Allison "she's going to be late, they don't need to be waiting." Doors were at 7.

We arrived in the venue around 8 hoping to catch the opening act; once again, too early. The opener simply did not exist and we waited until 9:45 for her to get on stage, paying $8 for a goddamn PBR.

Before she came on, I heard two girls in the bathroom say "my 12 year old self is quaking," and another girl one-upped by saying that her 11 year old self was quaking. I was quaking as I was and I felt as though I might not be changing as much as I should be, and if I have been, I might be changing so much I was comin' back around.

I don't want all of these posts to seem as though I am complaining about being old when in reality I am quite young, but it just seems like being 20 is in trend right now or something. I don't think that I am caring for my inner child by liking music for over a decade; I think it is just good music.

Last time I saw Sky she played an encore -- Red Lips. This time she did not no matter how badly we begged. Both times she seemed decidedly shy. She wore huge sun glasses and a reflective jacket probably meant to keep people like me from getting the shots they wanted -- fair. Her vocals get better and better; she hit every note and has adapted the melodies so beautifully since she released Night Time My Time in 2013. I imagine that for me, seeing Sky is what Swifties feel like. She is such a significant part of my music and identity development and NTMT is an album I simply have not and will not outgrow.

I danced the entire time -- too enthusiastically to really see what the crowd was all about but I could sense from the space that I had to dance that the show wasn't close to sold out. They actually downsized the venue. It was supposed to be at Vogue which has about a 1200 person cap to Hollywood which has about a 700 person cap. To me, this is insane. Seeing her live is like seeing an ethereal cryptid.

I always want her to play the Ghost EP but it's wishful thinking in the same way that truly believing Masochism will ever actually come out is. Brandon and I joked that if we spent the $80 she was asking on her long sleeve that one day it will sell for $2000, which won't matter because we didn't buy it anyway, and if we did, we'd never part with it. Masochism was slated to come out this year. She's got three months and I am waited with bated breath. I fear I might suffocate.

COST OF THE NIGHT:

We got guest list for the show so it was free.

Food & beer: $15.00

Beer x 2 @ venue: $17.00

Beer @ tertiary venue which I didn't even write about: $9.00

Money sent to me by a Mystery Man <3: +$10.00

Total spent: $31.00

I will tell you right now, I cannot afford to be doing any of this, but I sure am having fun.

Must pack. Until next time (Saturday when I have another show).

#nightlife #no fun city #vancouver #photography #live music #music review #sky ferreira #concert #hollywood theatre #vogue theatre #pappy and harriets #indie sleaze

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dairy-farmer · 1 year ago

Note

No thoughts head empty just Tim who goes to summer camp when he's 11-soon-to-be-12 years old and discovering the wonders of sex

It starts with some of the older camp boys, who get everyone together to measure their dicks, only to find out Tim has a sweet little pussy. They make fun of him for it at first but Tim isn't shy in showing it off, and so they all decide to start mutually masterbation in front of each other. It's going great until one of the boys asks Tim if he can taste him, and then it's all downhill for him

The preteen isn't particularly good at eating him out, but the few times he manages to make Tim's legs and hips quake in pleasure are enough to get the younger boy hooked

He desperately wants more of something, tho he isn't sure what at first until a different boy offers him a few fingers to stuff in his pussy. Once those are in, Tim is a mess. He cums eventually but still wants more, and this is when one of the older boys, 15/16 years old, steps up with his cock wrapped in a condom and proceeds to fuck into Tim, who is a sobbing mess. He's cock hungry from that moment on, nearly insatiable. He takes all of his fellow campers that night, and when they run out of condoms with only two kids left, he doesn't care

He rides them without protection and let's them cum inside, and wow was that ever a mistake, bc now Tim can't imagine EVER using condoms, not when being cum inside of felt so much better!

Over the next couple of weeks tho he manages to wipe his fellow campers out, so he seeks out some of the counselors, finds 3 of the 8 there at camp to fuck him, tho one insisted on - and followed through with - pulling out. He's only able to get a weekend of that before the counselors all decide to deny Tim bc they don't want to risk their jobs for a little slut who can't close his legs

Tim pouts and stomps into the woods, getting mildly lost. But it's fine, bc he stumbles upon a group of campers, 10 or so men in total, and after blinking himself back into awareness when he realized what opportunity has arisen, he spends the rest of the day and night and most of the next morning getting railed by this group of strangers, all of them cumming deep inside of Tim, who begs for it every time

He does ofc leave camp in early August with everyone else, and when his parents go back to Gotham to visit him, he is clearly pregnant. His parents are livid and Tim pretends to be meek and shy, so sorry for getting pregnant but not knowing any better! He tells them that he stayed inside the entire time, so no one has seen his frankly obscene baby bump, and his parents are glad. They make arrangements immediately to find a discreet way to spirit the baby away once they're born, and while Tim is saddened by this, he's also relieved he got away with being a slut

(and he does, until in his seventh month his mother tells him that if he gets pregnant again, he will have to deal with the consequences of being a mother and raising his baby. They won't get him a nanny or a wet nurse or anything, all the responsibility will fall on Tim. She thinks this will be sufficient birth control for him but it has the opposite effect on Tim, who is desperate to get pregnant again after he gives birth. He had so many wet dreams about being heavily pregnant and surrounded by a gaggle of small children, and he is determined for that to be his reality)

(he doesn't expect his dad to have caught on and proposition him with something akin to "if you let me be the one to fuck you pregnant, we can hide the pregnancy and pass the baby off as your little sibling to the public. Ofc you'll still be raising them, but we're less likely to get looked at twice by anyone" and Tim immediately agrees bc 1. He wants to be pregnant again right now immediately, four weeks postpartum be damned, and 2. The idea of making himself a mommy again AND a big brother all in one go sounds amazing to him. He gets pregnant with his sibling v quickly)

They end up passing all of Tim's first few babies off as his younger siblings until they can't anymore, and by then Tim is older and it's much less taboo for him to be publicly pregnant, so when his sixth baby is born and impossible to pass off as a Drake for whatever reason, they let the public catch on to the fact that Tim Drake is a single teen mother at only 18 years old (with no idea that this is his sixth pregnancy and he's technically been a teen mom since before he was even a teen at all). It gets a little harder when he just /keeps getting knocked up/ and there's never a baby daddy around, so word gets out that he's a slut and, well... Considering he has six babies and he only knows who fathered them for sure bc his dad insisted on knocking him up once, calling him a slut isn't too far off

But it's fine. Tim LOVES this life, and all of his babies, and fucking as many strangers as his little pussy can take, and getting knocked up with all the cum his womb can hold

(maybe Bruce Wayne figures out what his slutty little neighbor is up to, but instead of doing anything to intervene, he just offers to help watch Tim's many, many "siblings" and children, and when he finally has a shot to fuck the slut himself, he's determined to give Tim his next baby bump)

😍😍😍😍😍😍 yesssssssssssssssss!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! tim going to summercamp and coming back knocked up because he found out how good it feels to have boys put their boy parts into his little hole. his dad striking a deal to exclusive and unrestricted access to his slut son's hole because him and janet haven't fucked in ages and tim is sweet, tight, and desperate for any cock to fill his starved baby making hole. maybe jack isn't the best or most attentive father to all of the children tim gives birth to. fatherhood was never really his thing but tim's a good enough parent to more than makeup for it so he decides to stick to the part he really likes about it all. the babymaking.

janet was disgruntled at first, disgusted at jack even for being so weak that he's easily seduced by their underaged child. she forces jack to stay in gotham and maintain the ruse of both of them being in the city while she continues on their travels. turns out janet LOVES traveling alone and jack is more than okay to stay in gotham so long as he's able to have regular sex with tim. of course that means that MANY drakes are born and jack will admit that when a business partner or colleague points out his rather large family and comments on him being a family man well...it makes him puff up in pride. people look at him with a different kind of respect and reverence when they talk about how...prolific he is in children. even wayne points it out with an odd look and that makes jack a little cockier because they've all heard the rumors about wayne's...virility given that he has only adopted children but not one born child despite his philandering.

turns out jack likes being a "family man". then tim is 18 and freshly pregnant with another of jack's children because jack stopped pretending he wasn't fucking tim with the intent of getting him pregnant around the time the second compliment rolled in.

tim's reputation takes a bit of a hit for being a 'teen mother'. janet ends up passing away of a stroke while on a dig and so jack has to quietly deal with that and return to working full time because his business partner has passed away. tim has been in charge of nearly all the childrearing since jack first got him pregnant but wrestling five children with a sixth on the way in a penthouse is...difficult. he and janet had agreed to the deal that they wouldn't hire help for tim because he couldn't keep his slutty legs closed but...well jack's not heartless and he doesn't want to be needlessly cruel to the mother of his children after all. (and perhaps if the drakes were a more less known and low key family maybe jack would've even married tim and made all their children a smidge more legitimate). jack finds a house in a quieter neighborhood one with a nice big yard, plenty of trees, a babbling little brook, and a little lake with nippy fish. he moves out his little family and tells tim about the changes and how he won't be as available to plug his little hole for him but to rest assured that jack would continue giving him what he needed while he dealt with everyone treating him like a widow.

tim takes to the neighborhood well. he even befriends the neighbor which turns out to be wayne who is apparently experiencing empty nest syndrome given that his latest child has just gone off to college.

jack figures it isn't a big deal if wayne wants to play nanny to his children and hangout with his eldest who has been more or less ostracized by high society for his unfortunate teen pregnancy (the "first" of many many more). jack must've taken janet for granted because all of a sudden he's swamped with an overwhelmingly large amount of work. most nights he returns to his home too exhausted to fuck his eager son. more than once jack wakes up in the middle of the night to tim bouncing and rutting on his cock, desperate to satiate his hungry little cunt. tim's tits are already milk swollen and his abdomen has begun to show with the latest of jack's brood.

but jack is so tired that he grouches and tells tim to get off, that he's too tired for this and tim just whimpers and whispers about how he'll be really quick-

and jack lays there, unenthusiastic as tim bounces harder and faster.

jack's craving for sleep overcomes his lust and he ends up pushing tim away and making him go sleep in one of the children's rooms.

tim is upset with him the next morning but unlike his mother he still serves jack breakfast and kisses him goodbye at the door. jack sips a freshly brewed coffee in the car and smacks his lips with a bit of surprise that he doesn't taste rat-poison. a part of jack feels bad and resolves to try and finish his work early. he'll drive home and call tim to the car to fuck him, just like they did when he was a teenager and the house was getting redecorated and janet had told them both to leave and find something to do for a few hours.

but jack doesn't. he finished late as always and only has enough energy to eat and collapse into bed again. he wakes up once to tim sucking his cock, trying to get him aroused, but jack shoos him away.

tim stops trying after awhile and jack keeps making promises. occasionally tim comes to visit him at work once the school year starts and their children are away at daycare or school. jack fucks him in his office and caresses the rounded bump holding his child. but that's all for the extent of their sex life. tim gets too far along for the commute.

the baby is born and jack is satisfied to see its another boy. tim is always the horniest post partum, jack is certain he'll wake up any day to tim roughly riding him and more than willing to pin down his wrists until he gets his fill. only it doesn't happen.

jack gets a few days off and tries to start up with tim only to get sidelined in favor of tim taking their children to play at the wayne's. apparently wayne had a playground installed on his grounds when his children were younger and now regularly invites tim and his children over.

a few times jack gets a chance to fuck tim. while he's doing laundry, early in the morning when he's not running late and can bend tim over the kitchen counter.

before long tim is pregnant again much to his happiness. but this also means tim's insatiable spirit is satisfied for a little while longer.

jack is back to being a corporate slave and nine months later a sweet baby is born but with...oddly bluer eyes than his sibling and jet black hair. jack and tim's children are a mix of hazel and blue eyed children with chestnut to black hair- a healthy mix of their parent's. tim's latest baby though is...different and jack can't tell what it is about them.

their eyes are blue but...a slightly off shade, and the dark hair is deeper than any one in the family's but...that's genetics for you.

tim is nursing their newborn when wayne sheepishly knocks on the hospital room door. he's holding a large gift basket packed to the brim with all sorts of baby needs. toys, nappies, binkies, fancy baby bottles, clothing, and blankets. tim seems excited to see wayne, happily inviting him in and shifting to show him the baby quietly suckling on his tit.

wayne looks fascinated, eyes wide and so still that he hardly looked like he was breathing.

when the baby is finished, pulling off with a quiet, gummy mewl tim lovingly cradled them, completely uncaring of his exposed tits as wayne quietly placed the gift basket on the hospital floor and settled into a nearby chair to stare at the newborn.

for some reason jack feels like he's...intruding. like he's witnessing a private moment even though wayne is the intruder.

the feeling doesn't last long because jack gets another call and holds back a groan when he realizes the company wants him to start up on business trips again. that overseas negotiations aren't going as well and they need him to show up and do some strong-arming.

jack's limited time is about to get even more limited.

at the very least jack knows that tim will be kept out of trouble and occupied by their children. but just to be sure he'll have to knock tim up again so his legs stay shut for nine more months. he can't have any bastards running about.

but with jack away...well wayne has been looking for something to occupy his time so maybe he wont be too opposed to keep an eye on jack's wayward teenager.

just until he gets back of course.

#answered asks #asks #anonymous #jacktim #brutim

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asaltyrat · 3 months ago

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Doom 1993 | Why does it play good?

I played the original DOOM when I was 10 or 12 in my Aunt's Dusty Ol' Office with her Dusty Ol' Computer running Windows 95.

I probably shouldn't have been playing it.

But I did, got to plow through hundreds of angry demons through space bases and huge pits of hell. I learned to understand pain-states and got so excited when I finally beat the first chapter in one sitting. Then something strange happened. I kept playing DOOM.

It wasn't like I had a habit of not revisiting my old favorite games. Legend of Zelda, Starcraft, Quake. These games are burned in my brain and I love picking them up for a few days and enjoying a good ol' fashioned adventure, despite that the games themselves havn't aged well with the times. But DOOM is something I would happily actively stream again. Play through again, dive into the dedicated modding community again. Over and over, and I have absolutely no idea WHY it's like this.

Doom is an OLD game. Not exactly old as dirt, old as the land itself, but it celebrated its 30th anniversary not too long ago and it slaps me in the face that this game is nearly as old as I am. And yet it still keeps offering gameplay I'm dedicated to. That I want to keep enjoying and toying with. I've even considered trying to Speedrun the game a few times.

What is it with DOOM that keeps it's fan base positively frothing for new releases? Not just the overhauled, high intensity action that was 2016's DOOM or DOOM Eternal, but even the older fan .wads and, even still. SIGIL from John Romero, and now Legacy of Rust from the folks at Nightdive and a few extremely dedicated veteran .wad makers.

The Ultimate Doom Steam Port is stellar (sans a few strange sound issues) and people are still remixing E1M1 with some very exciting results. I had a variable amount of whiplash when I found out that OCRemix's "Dark Side of Phobos" started back in 2004, 11 years after the game's release.

I don't need to review the game or give a solid opinion. This is more just me absolutely out of my mind because the DOOM Train hasn't stopped, and I don't understand why.

It's no wonder I'm hitting up the full Vanilla release for the next few upcoming streams while making Crass commentary through it.

Stay Salty~

#doom #Article #1993 #gaming

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alertarchitect · 6 months ago

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So! A new Doom game got announced!

Here's the trailer for those interested, it will help with what I'm about to go into:

youtube

As a bit of a Retro Throwback Shooter Shitter myself, I have some Thoughts. Read on if you're interested.

So, first of all I like the premise of exploring the time the Doom Slayer spent fighting demons alongside the warriors of Argent D'Nur. It's a time period that was purposefully left pretty damn vague in Doom Eternal, and the Slayer's lore before waking up again wasn't even really talked about much - if at all - in Doom 2016 from what I remember, since they were trying to play it a little safe due to Doom 2016 being a soft reboot of a series that hadn't gotten a new game in 12 years at that point, with the last title (Doom 3 and its various editions that attempted to improve it a bit) being a pretty big departure that had a wealth of issues, such as it being a Doom game with one of the worst shotguns ever put into a shooter. So it's a cool idea to explore this time frame of the Doom Slayer's history, and possibly show the events leading to the Slayer's imprisonment in Hell before he was rediscovered and subsequently awoken by Samuel Hayden in Doom 2016, including the Makyrs' fall from grace.

Second, I'm actually kinda hyped to see id Software still working on making retro throwback shooters. I was worried they'd get shuttered and their IP sold off after Rage was such a flop back in 2011, and they didn't make anything after it for 5 years until Doom 2016 came out, so it's nice to see they've found their groove again - making some of the best examples of the retro throwback shooter subgenre. Doom 2016 started the BoomShoot Renaissance, and Doom Eternal is still one of the best examples of the genre, mechanically. They are masterclasses in using an old formula while keeping the level design and visuals fresh with modern game design principles that have improved a lot since the 90s, along with new game mechanics to keep the moment-to-moment gameplay feeling fresh as well (such as the weapon / stat upgrade systems, the movement abilities you get in Doom Eternal, etc.). Seeing them pushing that even further is a treat to behold, and I'm confident it's going to be a pretty damn fun game, as long as it doesn't get forced into being $70.

Final point, though, is a bit of a downer for me personally. Why in the fuck are they making a game in the Doom series that's going for a more medieval-ish feel, when the Quake franchise is right fucking there and begging for a better modern entry than goddamn Quake Champions?? Seriously, making a Quake game calling back to the first game in the franchise - with the Lovecraftian inspirations, the more medieval-ish setting, the unique monsters like the Shambler you didn't see much of past Quake 1 - would be a fucking money printer. But no, Microsoft wants them to play it safe so they can get a guaranteed blockbuster because Quake Champions hasn't done very well since it came out of early access in 2022, which is definitely a fault of the Quake franchise not having any consumer interest and 100% for sure not because Quake Champions pivoted into being a fucking hero shooter trying to emulate the feel of old arena shooter deathmatching!! It's not like a soft reboot wouldn't be sorely needed after the goddamn disaster of a story that was the Quake 4 campaign! It's not like a modern Quake game that actually relies on having a fun weapon sandbox instead of relying on taking your opponents off guard with fucking superpowers on cooldowns is something the fanbase they're trying to pander to would nut in our fucking pants over or anything!!!!

TL;DR: This game looks really good and fun, and I like to see id is still making banger games, but I'm actually kinda angry that they'd rather make a Doom game with medieval vibes rather than using that other fantastic retro shooter IP they own to make something that kind of vibe would actually fit into better.

#doom #doom 2016 #doom eternal #quake #retro shooters #boomer shooter #id software #fps #retro fps #Seriously I hope it was a decision from Bethesda or Microsoft management to do this shit instead of a Quake game #and not the devs' choice #because if even the *devs* don't want to make Quake games #especially ones that follow more in the footsteps of the first game instead of Quake 2 and beyond #where they went from “Lovecraftian medieval-ish game” to just another “Shoot the aliens Mr. Space Marine!!" series #that'd actually make me kinda sad tbh #Quake Champions #would be a horrible note to end such a good series of games on for the foreseeable future #Seriously the reason I have trouble enjoying the PvP in games like Destiny #or even just hero shooters in general like with Overwatch (ignoring the other problems involved with anything made by fucking Blizzard)#is because it feels like you're actively discouraged from relying on a well-made and fun weapon sandbox #instead you just use your Superpower Buttons as much as possible bc they just matter *more* than any weapon #other than maybe D2's heavy weapons #possibly CAN matter in a match #I know I sound like a nostalgia lord here but seriously just give me more games like Splitgate. Halo. or Unreal Tournament #hell even fucking COUNTER STRIKE is more fun to me bc it's your gunplay that matters #Team Fortress 2 as well #since despite it arguably being the progenitor of the hero shooter subgenre it still maintains its roots as a Quake / Half-Life mod #where the classes don't have Magic Superpowers but instead weapons and items that are part of a large and mostly healthy toolbox #Hell I even prefer Titanfall 2 bc even though it KINDA has superpowers it's more about the movement and shooting #than your 1-2 use killstreaks n shit

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saltygilmores · 1 year ago

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Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls, Season 2, Episode 17, "Dead Uncles and Vegetables", Part 2

Read part 1 and all other episodes in my pinned post. Luke is giving Lorelai the run down on the Life and Death of Uncle Louie, which is terribly un important. Think it's funny that he doesn't tell Lorelai about the existence of his family members until there's a crisis like his uncle croaking. Lorelai didn't know he had a sister or nephew until Jess was practically on his doorstep. Frankly, the life story of Liz Danes is infinitely more fascinating than Dead Louie's. I have to make a small correction: in the previous post, I stated that Teach Me Tonight was the next episode, but there's actually another wonderful, glorious, absolutely pointless filler episode next. That one where Richard helps Rory with a project for the Chilton business fair and Madelyn invents the Amazon Alexa a full 12 years before Amazon does but Rory sidelines her invention because no one at Chilton knows how to build a robot.

I can't think of a more gruesome place to spend the afterlife. If I happened to die in The Hollow, I would come back and haunt you. I'm gonna haunt you so hard, Lorelai Gilmore. You, Dean. Boom, haunted.

A little healthy competition for Taylor Doose. Just a warmup before Walmart eventually moves in and flattens both markets.

Love Miss Patty. Back at the Inn, Michel notices the 9 rooms that Lorelai reserved for Luke but there is no credit card on file to pay for said rooms. What's that sound? Could it be the sound of Lorelai Gilmore’s gross financial irresponsibility? Could it be that Lorelai just gifted Luke 9 free hotel rooms with no way to make that money back for the Inn?

Ha!

To bring everyone up to speed on the low stakes drama currently under way: Sookie is planning her wedding, and after a fateful soup tasting, Emily has wormed her way in to the wedding planning. Lorelai is predictably miffed. I fear that a day without a Miffed Lorelai would throw the Earth off it's axis.

For at least the second time in so many weeks, Lorelai has just up and left work in the middle of the day to help Luke do something and no one tries to stop her, on top of that she is leaving her real job to go work another job filling in for Luke.

Lorelai Gilmore is an HR rep’s nightmare. Meanwhile at the diner: the war for small town economic dominance rages on between Taylor and the gentle farmer's market hippie, while Lorelai works behind the counter and Rory....

WHHHAAAAA???! First Rory paid for her food, now she's working.... a job??!

Gross. Kirk just ordered lunch, Lorelai is about to bring Luke a turkey burger, and another customer asked Lorelai if they were still serving breakfast, so are we to assume it’s like, around 11am? And Rory is not in school. My word! She pulled a Jess and skipped school to work! It's even funnier when you think about how Luke is basically nobody to Rory at this point but some dick her mom is quietly chasing and her mother pulls her out of school to wait tables at his restaurant. (before anyone says "maybe it's a weekend", Rory was in her Chilton uniform just moments ago). Taylor, observing Miss Patty across the street at the farmer's market: "Since when does Patty eat so much fruit?" This is the woman who told 15 year old Rory that plums were better than sex.

Taylor is quaking in his cardigan, he knows deep down that at any moment his power and stranglehold over Stars Hollow could be usurped in a blink. Hippie: My market is so busy I don't have time to take a break and eat a meal. Taylor: A well groomed businessman with a good staff can afford to take a break now and again. Kirk:

The exquisitely timed, deadpan delivery of this line delighted me #TomatosSign #KirkMayBeATouchNeurodivergent

In other Low Stakes Drama, Lorelai has gone upstairs to bring Luke his lunch. He informs Lorelai that none of his relatives are coming to Dead Louie’s funeral, and they both pretend to be sad about it. Jess is nowhere to be found, so I guess unlike Rory, he’s at school, not jerking off for once.

Luke laments the lame excuses that his no good relatives gave for skipping Dead Louie’s funeral, like “I can’t miss work.”

If only they had the generous “Leave work in the middle of a shift to go help the diner guy” PTO package that the Independence Inn provides to Lorelai.

Luke begins the ol’ “name and shame the family members who have stood me up” and to no one’s fucking surprise Liz is among the funeral skippers who isn’t answering his calls (and at the same time isn’t seizing this opportunity to visit her own son and brother).

Oh Liz Danes you are SO getting haunted.

Now this just throws more Confusion Dressing onto the Dead Uncles and Vegetables Salad. On top of the "Rory gets pulled out school to chase her mom's Dick Goals", Jess also isn’t at school, and Luke says he’s…playing basketball. Ha ha ha. From the fantastical imagination of one Miss AmyShermanPalladino, who bought us “Dean likes/knows how to read”, comes its thrilling sequel, “Jess plays sports!"

Okay. Okay. Nothing is as creative or fantastically fictional as “Dean being literate”. And that being said, I could see Jess shooting hoops, I guess? Like maybe he spent time at the parks and playgrounds of New York City to blow off a little steam. Maybe it’s not a terribly ridiculous notion.

Anyhow, much like “I was playing football with my friends” ala the big fat lie in Swan Song, Rory just accepts this statement without question and then calls him a "little punk". Why? The hell did he do? First ya'll are mad he's causing "mischief" and now he's found a wholesome activity to keep him occupied and off the mean streets of Stars Hollow and you're still mad.

That brown shirt looked fucking stellar on him and he had to go and ruin it with a poofy lifejacket. 2000's fashion, man. I love how there is clearly nothing for Jess to do plotwise so they made up this z-plot where Rory keeps getting mad at him for taking time off from work, as if it matters to her, and as if he doesn’t have the most solid work ethic in Stars Hollow and shouldn’t be allowed take a break and play his little basketball game if he wants.

The low stakes drama continues: Jackson shows up at the diner and is not pleased about the intrusion on his wedding…by his fiancée’s coworker’s mother, of all people. I’m sure he had a lot of questions for Sookie about that.

Poor Jess. I'm sure he tried so hard to hold onto that fleeting moment of bliss today, a brief time when he was free, playing basketball, by himself most likely, skipping school, no one bothering him, then Rory shows up and drags him back to work/home for some reason and then Luke forces him to go to a town meeting, He never even got any time to jerk off. I don't understand why Luke goes to these things. Clearly any time there is a meeting he is there not of his own free will, so what are the terrifying consequences for staying home?

Here sits a defeated man. Taylor: You're late Lorelai, I banged this meeting in a half hour ago. Lorelai: Ooh, dirty. Miss Patty's reaction:

Dirty old bat. I love her.

Das a good question.

Tell me again why he should care about The Town? Why should anyone care about The Town? Fuck Stars Hollow.

The many faces of Milo. What a cutiemuffin gumdrop. Ah the famous scene where many claim to see Milo mouthing "I love you" at Alexis across the seats, to me it just looks like he's chewing his lip. The way he is looking at her is incredibly precious and adoring nonetheless. Lord, I think I just popped an ovary. Ow. Camp I Love You, Camp Lip Chewer, I respect you both, now let's just meet in the middle where we can all agree Dean Forrester sucks. To be continued.

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