#YOU DONT HAVE TO ENJOY DARK THEMES BUT DONT FUCKING SCARE PEOPLE

[szaryherbatnik]

People calling the wicked book traumatic, horrific or "straight up porn" is making me very upset because its none of those things. Since when is a political plotline traumatic.

And of course the book is not appropriate for children and theres heavy topics included in it that would make people uncomfortable. But telling everyone that its horrific and traumatizing is not the right direction????? Its fine to have boundaries and recognize that something isnt right for you but also lets not scare everyone. This is the type of behavior that leads to banning books. The fear of art is making me scared for the future. Its 2025 and i see more and more people being against any type of art thats challenging in any way. Smells like fascism which is already returning, even without this artistic narrative.

The least we can do is not making people fucking SCARED of books. Can we not let media literacy die completely. Can we engage with things that are out of our comfort zone or at the very fucking least not propagate fear.

[th3finalboy]

i know this isn’t in the “ask me!” list but i’m just curious, what are your favourite sub genres in horror? which movies do you always gravitate toward bc they have certain themes/elements? i love finding out what makes horror “scary” for people!! <3

first off i want to say SORRY for taking so long to answer this, i haven't had the time to sit down and collect my thoughts because i really want to give this an articulate response. i have loved horror movies since i was little, so at this point there is little that necessarily "scares" me in the same way that other people get scared. however, some types of horror still get under my skin, for sure. but outside of what may personally scare me, there are subgenres that i just enjoy. note that a lot of the movies i list apply to multiple genres but. like. idk deal with it.

DAYLIGHT HORROR:

one of my favorite subgenres (if you can even call it that?) is daylight horror. horror movies typically happen during darkness/night time, which makes sense. obscured vision, more isolation, lack of awareness around you. what could be lurking in the darkness? what is there that you can't see? however, i think that daylight horror works really well because it's about what IS seen. that despite it being a seemingly "safe" time, there is still danger. and you can see it, but it can't be avoided. something about horror being in plain sight gets to me. some examples of this that i personally love are: the texas chainsaw massacre (1974), of course the passenger (2023), and midsommar (2019).

COSMIC HORROR:

i personally think there's something very primally horrific with cosmic horror. the idea that all of this, every single thing you feel or believe in, being completely insignificant in the grander scheme of things. that none of it even really matters at the end of the day because it was all completely out of your control. i dont know, things like that get to me especially for some reason! though they dont necessarily scare me, i find myself really relating to the characters and finding myself in their helpless plight to fight against something so much bigger than themselves. some examples of this that i am a fan of are: the thing (1982), in the mouth of madness (1994) , color out of space (2019), event horizon (1997).

BODY HORROR:

yesss... YESSS!! i am personally a big fan of gore in movies so, body horror is like my favorite thing. the desecration of the human body, twisting and morphing into something completely unrecognizable like yaesss... there's a lot of different ways movies utilize it, and typically body horror is coupled with cosmic horror so you'll probably see both in a movie. the thing and color out of space have good body horror, i'd also add society (1989), videodrome (1983) (honestly anything by david cronenberg is good), slither (2006), hellraiser (1987).

OCCULT HORROR:

now, here i have to admit a personal bias. i grew up in a very christian household, so, i think that definitely has something to do with occult horror getting to me. it's strange though because satanic horror typically doesn't really get to me, i think aside from longlegs but i think that movie utilized dread really well. i find satanic horror mostly lame and cheap tbh. but occult horror? something about that does get to me. i think it's because it also sort of plays into cosmic horror themes of helplessness and insignificance in the face of something bigger and greater. some movies that i really like are hereditary (2016), longlegs (2024), the wicker man (1973) , apostle (2018), rosemary's baby (1968) , suspiria (both the 1977 and the 2018).

PSYCHOLOGICAL HORROR:

man, i really love psychological horrors. i love when fucked up things happen to people's psyches! i love when characters are driven to madness! love when they're confronted with their worst fears in the worst ways possible! love it, love it. another persona bias for me just because i am a psych student lol. there's so many i can list, uhm. love love love silence of the lambs (1991), get out (2017), the shining (1980), the lighthouse (2017), the ritual (2017), possessor (2020), jacob's ladder (1990), the night house (2020) (underrated honestly! im sad this one went under the radar), audition (1999), martyrs (2008), i could honestly go on and on...

SLASHER HORROR:

slashersss... oh my beloved, what can i really say? slashers are probably one of, if not my absolute favorite subgenre of horror. i know people tend to find them trite because of how formulaic they can be and how oversaturated the genre is, but if you really start looking, you can find some GREAT, great movies. i love the popular choices, like scream (1996) and halloween (1978) of course, but i think there's a lot of other hidden gems that come into play. behind the mask: the rise of leslie vernon (2006) is a really good commentary of the slasher genre as a whole. i think house of wax (2005) was also really fun! tucker and dale vs. evil (2010) is also another good satire of slashers. i really loved a nightmare on elm street 3: dream warriors (1987), too! aside from what they do with nancy :,) my bloody valentine (1981), chopping mall (1986)...

[mattssmurdock]

tag 10 people you want to get to know better!

please ignore all the spelling mistakes and stuff im on my phone and it was so hwrd to copy and paste everything and type stuff out 😔

relationship status: single cause im scared to date people my age. Plus they arent chris evans, sebastian stan or florence pugh.

favourite colour: i really like green (like a naturey green or olive it realy depends just not neon)

favourite food: either pizza or couscous

song stuck in your head: summer night city by abba 😔

dream trip: like a trip all around europe with my friends

last book you read: three dark crowns or something like that

time: 5:50pm ish (im in france rn so )

Last book you hated reading: honestly i haven't read that much but probably as a kid there was this book about this mom who wanted to get skinnier and her son telling her she doesnt need to So she goes on a diet and he does too but she keeps telling him no. So in the end she stops or something. 😔😔 now that i think about it theres a 40% chance this was a dream.

favourite thing to cook/bake: ooo so i make these cupcakes. and i love to decorate them My most recent batch is cow themed so i made little icing cows on top of them and some have green chocolate filling and stuff. (Sort of like a lava cake but green)

last book you enjoyed reading: heartless by merrisa meyers i guess most people told me this is a kids book but i honestly dont really care at this point. Its such a good book (if you ever end up reading it i love you)

bonus!

favourite craft to do in your free time: i dont have a favorite since i do alot but i like making gifs on photopea (even if i don't post them for the sole reason that tumblr ruins the quality)

most niche dislike: I feel like i dislike a lot of things but loud chewing. Like i cant stand ut if im sitting next to someone and they are hunched over and munching like theres no tomorrow. Especially if they are eating right behind me in a restaurant or the metro.

opinion on circus(es): Honestly as a kid they scared the fuck out of me but they are alright right now. I mean i personally wouldn't go alone but wirh friends and tumblr mutuals it would be nice.

do you have a sense of direction: i hope so but honestly not really. I love acting but my stage freight and anxiety keeps getting worse so if i wanna act again i gotta work on that.

i know its not 10 people but im taghing these people: @nikolatexla @natasharomanovf @hughdrysdale @ne8ula @chrrispine @pegsccarter @mccnknights but honestly any of my active mutuals

thanks for tagging me @rebelharrington <3

[un2-verse]

BILLY — Kim Taehyung (3)

Synopsis: News of a Sadistic Serial Killer nicknamed “Jigsaw” is spreading around town like wildfire… the nickname stemming from the puzzle piece he cuts from every victim’s body. No one knows who he’ll trap next but in a town full of delinquents and criminals, it could never be you. Right?

Pairing: yandere!Taehyung x f!reader

genre: angst, horror, weirdly some fluff lol

Warnings: dark themes, yandere, stalking, manipulation, conditioning, mentions of abuse, suicidal ideations/attempts, self harm, murder, depictions of torture etc (basically its gorey and fucked up), angel trap, etc stabbing and guns. do not read if triggered!!!!

wordcount: 2.2k

taglist: @yes-sol-not-soul @yoongiofmine

a/n: pt 3 is here!! honestly i wasnt expecting this amount of support as i’ve never published my writing before so thank u sm ♡ i was inspired to write this one night and i had no idea where it’d go or anything but i’m happy with the way its turning out :D fun fact abt me, i’ve been obsessed w the franchise since i was little and i actually have 2 saw tattoos, one of billy and one above saying “cherish your life” since that’s pretty much the motto of saw :) and i have quite the collection of saw/billy items so why not turn my fav horror film into a fucked up love story! let me know if u would like to be added to the taglist and pls enjoy reading^^ feel free to send me asks abt the series or anything u want~ i love hearing from u guys!! :D ps— taehyung and the reader dont have much interaction in this part,, theyll definitely be more of them together in part 4 :) unedited so pls excuse any mistakes!! tysm <33 and remember these are fictional characters and do not represent bts personally in any way!!

series masterlist

part one part two

The headlines constantly named the Jigsaw Killer, Billy. The somewhat eerie little doll that had a face as white as a Calla Lily with spirals on it’s cheeks as red as the blood that was shed during the tests. Billy was always dressed in a little black suit with a red bowtie and he was (most of the time) situated on a squeaky battered tricycle. Attached was always a tape that read “play me” and when the subjects did, a chilling voice— one that could make even the world's worst predators shiver with terror— would echo around the room.

Everyone knew that a doll clearly wasn’t responsible, yet they gave it the name Billy in hopes to somewhat humanise the face that instilled panic— they did not want to live in fear.

It was the only face behind the killings.

But this time, there was a different subject stuck in the test and Billy had made sure there was no way for them to survive.

“How are you scared of heights? You’re practically a giant yourself!”

“Just because I’m tall doesn’t mean I can’t be scared of heights Y/Nie.”

You had no idea how long had passed since Taehyung had turned up at the garage, you were too busy chatting away squeezed into the kitchen while your Dad, Yoongi and Hobi worked on the cars in the shop. If anyone could hear you both, they would think you’d known eachother since childhood— the playful jokes and light touches exaggerated that.

You’d only known him for a few hours really, if you added the time spent with him on the first day and now. It hadn’t seemed like all those weeks ago that you first met, he had a familiar presence, as though you had known him for years compared to the hours.

“I just wouldn’t imagine you to be scared of anything Taehyung… you seem so confident and fearless.”

You saw the way Taehyung looked at you. His eyes flashed with understanding.

“I did have my fears back then, much like yours.”

“What do you mean?” you had a rough idea on what he meant but you needed him to voice it.

A deep inhale and the words flowed from his lips before he could stop it, “The fear of living. I had been through some stuff you know, growing up. My mum was working a lot and my dad was an alcoholic, he was so fucking possessive and wouldn’t let her go anywhere without kicking off. It was a fucking shitshow and so toxic. This one time though, I’d pretended that I’d gone to school and waited outside the front door. It didn’t take long before I heard shit getting smashed and my dad shouting.” Taehyung was telling the truth only, he left out the part where he was also as possessive, if not more, than his father. Well, let's say… obsessive. “I just ran in the house and saw my dad towering over my mum and I don’t remember what happened but, I do remember my mum crying and my dad disappeared.”

Now Taehyung was lying through his teeth. He remembered clearly, almost like it was yesterday. He smashed the nearest bottle, pulled his mother away from the monster that scared her and stabbed him. Not just once, not twice but thirty-seven times. Hence the thirty seven tattoo on the palm of his right hand (the one he’d actually killed his father with). There was only Taehyung who knew what it meant, he counted every single time the broken glass pierced his father’s body, he counted with a smile on his face and a chuckle in his throat.

You were at a loss for words. Your mouth gaped in shock, eyes wide and your brain scrambled for the right thing to say. You reached over and grabbed his hand, interlacing your fingers. His thumb running back and forth along your hand. “I’m sorry, I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like.” There was no way you could relate, your mother and father were happy and in love. They had the ideal relationship, one you wished for yourself. You could empathise though.

“You don’t need to be sorry baby, it’s in the past and I’ve moved on from it. I was like you though, poisoned by the roots that keep you on the ground even though you wanted nothing more than to break free and be no longer.” A silence fell over you both before Taehyung uttered, “I wasn’t successful with my attempt so now I’m here to help you.”

Warmth spread throughout your body, a smile graced your features as you no longer felt alone.

You had a completely different idea to what those words actually meant.

It was nearing the evening when Taehyung’s car had been fixed. Yoongi popped his head in the kitchen to tell him but stopped himself so as to not interrupt the scene before him. You were laughing along to whatever Taehyung was babbling about with your hand resting on his bicep, with that look in your eyes that he hadn’t seen for years. Yoongi felt himself smile as he saw you hanging onto Taehyung's every word.

For the first time in forever, you looked alive.

Yoongi cleared his throat which drew yours and Taehyung’s attention, “Sorry to interrupt guys. We’ve finished with your car so whenever you’re ready we’ll be outside.” The infamous gummy smile overtook his features, you felt yourself beam in return.

“Thanks man! I’ll be like, five minutes.”

Yoongi nodded his head in reply and swiftly left the room.

You’d taken Tae’s hand into yours, playing with the array of rings that occupied his fingers. Solemn thoughts overtook, am I not gonna see him again? Was this, whatever this is, over before it had even begun? Your eyes stayed on his hand as you turned it over and traced your finger over the inked ‘thirty seven’ on his palm. “What does this mean?”

Taehyung didn’t think twice before he practically beamed out, “It’s my lucky number.”

The difference was, it wasn’t really his lucky number… although he did see it that way. It was the number that had stayed with him. It was something he was proud of, whenever he looked at the hand that killed his father, his chest filled with pride and a joyous feeling overtook his senses. It was his first murder. Something he relished in and thus, created the onslaught of Jigsaw killings. He targeted a certain type— those whose sins would lock them up forever if they were ever found out. Racists, murderers, rapists, drug dealers, con-men. Authoritative figures who abused their power. He even went as far as subjecting suicidal people.

You see, things aren’t sequential. Good doesn’t lead to good, nor bad to bad. People who steal, don’t get caught, they live the good life. Others lie, cheat and get elected.

Some people would call it karma but Taehyung, he called it justice.

He’d started this with one thing on his mind— those that don’t appreciate life do not deserve it.

Whenever a serial killer was on the loose, the press did what they always did. They gave them a nickname. While the public had named the doll Billy. The actual killer was named ‘Jigsaw’.

This stemmed from the jigsaw piece that was cut from the victims skin, no one knew why he was doing it or what it even stood for.

It did have a meaning although unknown to the public.

The jigsaw piece that was cut from the subjects was only ever meant to be a symbol that that subject was missing something. A vital piece of the human puzzle. The survival instinct.

After all, until a person is faced with death, it’s impossible to tell whether they have what it takes to survive.

Across town an underground abandoned warehouse, was where the next subject had found themselves.

They were suspended in the air, their feet merely dangling above the ground. The putrid smell of death lingered in every crevice, the sound of rats scurrying along the concrete floor filled their ears just as they began to stir awake.

A pain in their ribs was the overwhelming factor to them finally coming around. When they groggily opened their eyes, they were paralised with fear due to the scene in front of them.

A doll sat a few feet ahead, perched upon a tricycle. Adorned with a black suit and a red bowtie. A slow red light flashed in his eyes.

Billy.

Before the subject could even register how, when or why they found themselves trapped in a test, footsteps echoed behind them. The subject called out, “Help! Please, somebody help! I shouldn’t be here!”

A tsk reached their ears, as a disembodied voice replied, “Trust me, no one can hear you. Scream all you like. You’d just be wasting your breath, you may as well cherish it before it's gone.”

With hairs stood on end, the subject stilled. “What do you want from me?”

“I don’t want anything from you.” The man's footsteps grew louder. “I’m here to serve justice, that’s all.”

The man rounded the subject, settling in their view with only his cloaked back visible while he tended to the little doll. He touched Billy delicately—like he was a little child that he loved dearly. He combed his gloved hand through the doll's black hair and eventually pulled his fingers from the tresses to pat his head gently.

“You fucking psycho! Let me go!”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that which only infuriated the subject more causing them to shake in anger, a movement they soon ceased when they realised something was penetrating their ribs.

“I’d be very careful if I was you, we wouldn’t want you hurting yourself now… would we?” The cloaked figure spun around. An angry glint to his eye.

“What the fuck, you’re fucking crazy. Let me out, this isn’t right!” The subject tried their hardest to swing their legs, to somehow kick the man who’d imprisoned them.

“I think you’ll find it is right. You’re unworthy of the body you possess.” He inched closer, “see, when someone purposely intends to harm others, they lose their right to life.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

The man arched a brow as he replied, “Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He felt like it was a game of cat and mouse except, he was a tiger and his subject, was the tiniest prey to mankind. “But, let me remind you! Since you can’t get your thick fucking head to work. You’re a liar, a cheater and an abuser. That ring any bells?”

The subject's face dropped.

“Ah, I see by your expression you know exactly what I’m talking about! Glad to see we’re on the same page.” He shrugged his cloak off placing it to the side of the doll. “I want to play a game.”

“What game? This isn’t a fucking game! You’re sick in the head you fucking cunt!”

The atmosphere shifted, the man remained calm while the subject went ballistic.

“What is this? What fucking game?”

“You feel the machine that’s currently occupying your ribs? Well, in about ten minutes that’s going to rip you apart. I’m proud to say that trap is my baby. I’ve been working on it especially for you! How nice is that?” he reached out to tug at the subject’s legs, tormenting them like a cat would a mouse. “Anyway, as my beautiful angel trap will rip you apart, my darling little friend Billy over here,” the subject followed the direction the man's hand pointed, “is going to match your face with the ugliness of your soul.”

“Fuck, fuck this! How do I stop it? Tell me how I fucking stop it!”

A boxy grin overtook the man's face, laughter poured from his mouth as he leaned over and slapped the subject’s leg. “This is a special game.”

“Who are you? What do you mean by ‘special game’?”

He raised himself so he stood tall and grabbed a knife from his pocket, “I’m the man you call Jigsaw.” He traced the tip of the knife along the subject’s ankle, “and when I say a special game… I mean you can’t get out.” While the subject was screaming in realisation, Taehyung walked back for his cloak, hung it over his shoulder and stalked off back the way he came. He sent one last smile to the subject as he rounded them and within the blink of an eye, he gripped the knife and slashed the subject’s achilles.

A chilling scream pierced the eerie atmosphere, the subject couldn’t string words together. Abundances of anxiety, terror and pure panic took reign of their body. Taehyung grabbed the injured muscles and forced his gloved fingers in as he gripped and twisted them, “That’s for Y/N.”

Taehyung had pressed the timer before he cut the subject’s tendons. He grabbed the tape from his pocket and threw it on the ground and with a chuckle he shouted, “Game over!”

Before he reached the end of the hallway, he heard the gunshots pierce his subjects face followed by the sound of the angel trap, even this far away Taehyung heard every crack of the ribs and the noise of the body being tore apart.

Without looking back, Taehyung rounded the corner and slammed the door shut.

He’d chosen the Angel trap for the irony, the subject that was currently hanging from the ceiling was no angel. They were a fucked up, evil, waste of space. Taehyung had done the world a favour, he’d done you a favour.

That got him thinking, how much blood would you shed in order to stay alive?

[a/n: who do we think was in the trap???👀]

[whumpingcrow]

Pt.21 "The 'Welcome Home' Committee"

CW: nightmares/PTSD/flashbacks, dehumanizing language/themes, collar mention, aftermath of emotional abuse/gaslighting, tourettes/ticcing, self deprecating whumpee, drugs/alcohol (explicit), discussion of past noncon/dubcon, whumpee expecting noncon/dubcon, injury/blood mention, brief sensory deprivation mention, food mention (let me know if I missed anything!)

Tyson was holding Elias close against him in their shared bed, mind almost entirely occupied with the thought of how happy he was that Elias was home safe. He couldn't be sure, but it looked like he was enjoying the way Tyson was stroking down his back gently, his body arching into the touch. Tyson watched with interest, trying to tell if he was aware of his reaction, if he was asleep. It didn't matter, he decided, he had his Elias in his arms, twitching and stirring and alive, so it didn't matter if he was awake and aware or not. Tyson was observing him closely for any signs of a nightmare just in case he was asleep, but the last time he saw him have one it wasn't evident until he woke up, gasping and searching the dark for a threat, so he was sure he wouldn't be able to tell until it was too late. When he wasn't keeping a watchful eye on Elias, he shifted his focus between the bedroom door and the window, paying extra close attention to any car or person that passed by.

Tyson was ready this time, the doors were locked and the hall light was on, he had a baseball bat hung up on the door. Elias had to feel safe, he would show him that it was ok to be home, that Tyson really wasn't going to let anything bad happen to him, not again.

Still, even with all of the new safety precautions, it wasn't too long after the sun started to rise that Elias bolted out of Tyson's arms and out of bed, his shoulders hitting the wall hard as he stumbled into the corner.

"No! No, no, no! Please God, please!" He cried, arms wrapped around his shaking body as he slowly slid down to the floor, anguished sobs retching him forward. "I'll be g-good! I'll be good!"

"Elias!" Tyson rushed, hopping out of bed and approaching him carefully. "It's ok, you're ok!"

"I told them no! P-please, don't h-hurt me please!!" He had his eyes squeezed shut, arms pulling his legs to his chest to protect his body. Tyson watched him flinch away from injuring hands that were only there in his imagination. Tyson hadn't even tried to touch him yet. "I swear I'll be better!"

"Baby, listen to me," he tried, dropping his voice low to try and counteract Elias's hysteria, "it's me, it's Tyson. No one's gonna hurt you."

Elias shook his head furiously, ducking away further into the corner. He was sobbing and begging incoherently now, his panic manifesting into cries of "please, please d-dont, I'm so sorry, please!" and the like.

Tyson had an idea of what to say to try and calm Elias, but even thinking the words made him bitter. When Allen had first gotten back from August, Tyson and Leo had to adopt some of his heinous language in order to keep Allen calm. Tyson remembered how quickly it worked, how it could make Allen drop his hysteria in only moments. They used it only when they had exhausted all other options, because both Leo and Tyson were upset at how much it felt like speaking to a dog. But it was different with Elias, Tyson couldn't encourage him to stay in the same mindset he'd been forced into, so he wouldn't use the same language August used, he refused to. He tried again, in his own way. "Eli, everything's ok. Look at me, please."

"I c-c-cant!" He sobbed again, thrown back into hysterics. "I won't, August! I'll be good!"

Tyson wanted to put a hole through the wall. Fucking August. He broke Elias, he made him unable to sleep through the night, made him too scared to remember Tyson. It was repulsive, to see the aftermath of such a monster on the person he loved. He thought back to Allen, how fast he was able to calm down at those two, dangerously sweet words. But would Elias even react the same? What if it just made it worse? All of those fears and more ran rampant through his head, but he was running out of options, and Elias wasn't calming down, so he really didn't have another choice.

"Angel," he murmured, extending his hand slowly, trying to coax him to open up a bit, "you're alright. You're...you're a good boy, Eli."

It worked like a charm, and Tyson cringed at the effectiveness. Elias relaxed, uncrossing his arms and leaning forward. He looked so scared still, head turned to the side so he wasn't looking at Tyson, inching out of the corner slowly. His ragged breathing was evening out a little at a time. "I...I...?"

"Yeah, there you go. Good." He smiled softly at Elias in the pale blue morning sun, moving to lean against the wall with him. He was relieved when Elias rested his head against his shoulder, sighing deeply as he did. Tyson looped his fingers around his thigh, squeezing gently. "I've got you, darling."

Elias whimpered, ticcing in small twitches against Tyson. "I'm s-sorry." He breathed, muted by his guilt, barely audible.

"No, don't be, Elias. Are you ok now? Are you back with me?"

"I think so." As he spoke, he turned to look up at Tyson, blinking hard to clear the tears from his eyes. "Hm...Ty." He breathed. "My Tyson."

"Yeah. Yeah, love, that's right." He searched Elias's face for a moment, taking in the remnants of fear leftover from his nightmare. "Do you...you wanna talk about it?"

Elias didn't say anything for a long time, looking away from Tyson and instead out the window as he pondered the question. It was windy, the palm trees just outside were swaying against the breeze. He realized that it must've been early morning, and a twinge of guilt for waking Tyson up like that hit him. He didn't know if he wanted to talk about it, about August or the strangers or the pain. But Tyson deserved to know, and he was asking like maybe he wanted to hear what happened. So Elias turned his attention back to Tyson and started talking.

"I don't understand what I did wrong. I don't know why he stopped… pretending to care about me." The weight of the sentence made him feel tired all over again, and he was frightened to be admitting to his confusion. He was an idiot, to not even know what he did to be punished. He knew that it was well deserved, but that's about where the understanding stopped. "I mean...I know I messed up somehow, but I can't remember what I did. He just stopped c-caring."

"You didn't do anything, Eli. It was all him."

"No...Ty, he cared about me, at least a little. He went through all that trouble to...how could I not be good enough for him? What does that say about me?"

"It says that you're too good for a scumbag like that. Maybe he just finally realized that."

Elias froze. He didn't believe it, of course, but the words made something glimmer behind his tears. "Too...too good?"

"Yes, love," Tyson cooed softly, taking his hand, "he knew that people like him don't deserve good people like you. He must've just dropped the facade."

"So who am I...Am I good enough for you? Not too good?" His voice was desperate, borderline hopeful, if Tyson dared to believe that.

"Mhm. You're perfect." He chuckled softly, squeezing his hand ever so gently. "And I want you so badly. Good or not."

Elias finally broke a smile, a genuine, almost carefree, grin as he looked up at Tyson in adoration. He was still shaking, but his breathing was back to normal and he felt more grounded. Usually August would force him to ride out the fear from the nightmares on his own, then punish him later for keeping him awake with his whimpering. "Sorry I woke you up like that." He added it, just for good measure, because Tyson didn't hurt him, he wouldn't, but he was still nervous. He wondered when that would stop.

"You didn't, baby. Besides, it's morning anyway." He stood up, pulling Elias up with him. "Also uh...Allen's been asking about you. If you're ok with it he wanted to come check on you later."

"T...today?" He mumbled, sinking back onto the mattress and watching Tyson pick a shirt out from the closet.

"You can get settled in first, I don't want to overwhelm you-"

Elias could laugh. Settle in, what a joke. Ten months in France made this place he used to call home feel distant and strange, how could he possibly settle in? "Today's fine. I just wanna...wanna wake up and stuff first."

"You sure? You've only been home a day."

"I'm sure," he smiled at him to really sell it, and Tyson nodded approvingly.

Elias washed the dishes as they waited for Allen to show up, Tyson was tidying up in the other room. Supposedly Leo was coming too, and Elias was heavy with fear. He'd be sent away before they got there, surely, given substances to shut him up. Or maybe Tyson would allow Elias to be used, maybe he'd watch.

Elias was afraid at the dreadful excitement he felt at the idea. He was sick to his stomach with anxiety at the possibility of something like that happening, but he couldn't see past the obsessive need to be touched, to be used. He finished the dishes, ducking off to the bathroom to make sure he looked ok. His pale hair curled into small waves in front of his face, it felt unnatural to not find any dried blood in it. His wide eyes and flushed face were still tainted with injuries, but there was nothing he could do about it besides wait for them to heal. Besides, the people who used him usually liked him bruised up anyways, they usually kissed his injuries with patronizing softness or pressed on his bruises to watch him squirm. He fixed his shirt, then realized all at once that he was too sober for this, that he couldn't be used this aware. Couldn't be good. He began to frantically search through the cabinets for anything that might make him feel better, pills or even mouthwash. His eyes fell onto a pill bottle on the top shelf of the mirror, his hands fumbled over it quickly. Tiny, colorful pills spilled into his hands, it was recognizably molly. He didn't know why Tyson had it, but it was August's favorite to give Elias, and so he knew it well. He threw two pills back, chasing them with water from the sink, and then returned the bottle back to its spot. After he started to feel it just a little, he looked back into the mirror and fixed himself up a little more, forcing a smile at his reflection, just to see how it looked. Something was off, he didn't look right, he was worried that if he looked anything less than what he was used to, he would fall apart. The ground dropped from under him just a little when he realized what it was: his bare neck. He needed his collar, people were coming, he had to have it. Fucking stupid, he thought, spent months wishing you could take that thing off and now you suddenly want it again? Stupid fucking idiot.

In one of the drawers he found a silver chain, he inspected the little pendant dangling on the end, at the way the blue jewel in the middle caught the light when he turned it. He almost wanted to put it back, it was too nice for him, but he decided that it was better than nothing. He slipped it over his head, it was loose, but it would work fine. He looked so much better already.

"Elias, you ok in there?" Tyson was asking from the hallway. His voice was tight with anxiety and Elias instantly reached for the door handle and stepped out.

"I'm ok," he smiled at him, his grin lopsided so that his chipped tooth was showing just a little. "I was just getting ready."

Tyson tilted his head at him, smiling softly. "You look nice. How do you feel?"

Elias offered a lighthearted shrug, shuffling forward and standing up on his toes to kiss Tyson's nose softly. "M'ok. I cleaned the kitchen."

"I saw!" He took Elias's hand in his own and pulled him closer. "Thank you, for that. Very helpful."

Elias beamed at the praise, and Tyson was reminded again of Allen, how he lit up like a damn Christmas tree when someone said anything close to a compliment or approval, and it was quickly becoming evident that Elias was going to be the same. It was disgustingly cute how reactive they both were, how their lips twitched into a sick smile, their eyes fluttered helplessly. So beautiful, so tragic. He got this way through horrible mistreatment and brainwashing violence, but he looked so genuinely ecstatic that Tyson wasn't sure if he ever wanted to stop.

"Uh...they're waiting outside. We can let them in when you feel ready."

Elias took a breath, forcing himself to nod. He reminded himself to keep his composure, allow himself to be movable and soft and pretty. He was trembling all over, in excitement or fear he wasn't sure. Tyson rubbed his shoulder gently, still giving him a moment. When Elias finally seemed to come to terms with being around other people, he looked nervous all over again, but this time with a hint of eagerness behind his eyes. Tyson wondered how often he was allowed to see other people when he was with August. He said that August had kept him hidden away, but what exactly did that entail? When Allen was with him, he came back not used to light or sound because August had been keeping him depraved of those luxuries. Elias didn't seem like that though, he just seemed...skittish, too vigilant and too self hating to be around others. He spoke and carried himself like he knew he was less than them, and it bothered him just to be near them. And yet, at the same time, he looked exhilarated at the idea of putting himself into that position at any second. Finally, he looked up at Tyson with a wavering smile and nodded at him to tell him he was ready.

Allen looked way too good, Elias was completely baffled at how healed he seemed, like nothing had ever been wrong with him. How had he been with August and healed, how was he not broken forever? Elias didn't think he would ever be able to get there himself, all of this damage was irreversible, he couldn't imagine himself with a flushed, healthy face and a carefree grin. Or an ability to walk into a room with seemingly no issues or qualms, just existing. How could he do that?

He was also the first person to talk to Elias, which made him a little breathless at how unexpected it was. He stayed far enough away when he waved at him, politely saying "hey, Elias, how are you doing?"

Elias flinched, looking to Tyson for permission to speak, but he was given only a glance, and he was left confused and too scared to answer. Instead he just nodded his head once as a response. He looked down to see his knees were visibly wobbling, he didn't realize he was also squeezing his hands into tight fists at his sides. He couldn't force himself to relax, even though he wanted to, the molly in his system felt like metal in his veins, forcing him rigid and stiff.

Tyson quickly realized that Elias was more overwhelmed than he had hoped for, that all of his promises that he would be ok and he was sure they could come were quickly falling apart. He was standing so straight, like he'd collapse in on himself if he let his muscles relax at all. His legs were shaking with the effort of standing, Tyson wanted to scoop him up and hold him close to his chest, take away the strain of being upright, relieve him in any way he could.

"How are you settling in, pal?" Leo asked him, watching his head drop down instantly as he was addressed. He inched toward Tyson just a little, glancing up at him yet again. This time, Tyson caught his eye and realized what the look was about.

"It's ok," he whispered, rubbing his shoulder gently to reassure him, "it's alright, Eli, you can talk to them."

Elias was thankful for the permission to speak, he wanted to interact with them so bad he was buzzing, he wanted to speak to them and be heard and acknowledged. It had been so long since he'd been around people who understood him, who he could have conversation with. He worried for a split second that he might've forgotten how. "It's different. France is very different."

Leo chuckled at that, nodding his head. "Yeah, I would imagine. It's beautiful though, I hear."

Elias nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, the beach is my favorite."

Tyson was smiling at him, at how eager he was to speak, how even though he had been through hell there, he still found something beautiful in it. Elias had been trapped with August and made to do awful things that Tyson wasn't even sure the extent of yet, and still he had picked out a favorite place.

"Well I hope you didn't get too used to the food there, cause you'll have to deal with my cooking tonight." He smiled teasingly, and once Elias heard Tyson laughing, he realized it was a joke. Someone was joking with him, like an actual person. He smiled brightly at him, shaking his head.

He didn't have a response though, smiling at him seemed to be enough. Leo followed Tyson into the kitchen, leaving Allen and Elias to be alone in the living room. Allen had sat down on the couch, and Elias occasionally looked up from his spot in the center of the room, wondering if he was supposed to follow Ty. It seemed too late now, and besides, he knew in the back of his mind that he belonged here, to be observed as a centerpiece, touched if anyone felt the need for it. He wondered if, he hoped that, Allen felt the need for it. Or anyone at all, really.

"Wanna come sit with me, Elias?" Allen checked suddenly, watching as Elias straightened up to look at him, eyes wide. He quickly nodded before stumbling over to the couch, hesitating a moment before sinking down to the floor on his knees. Allen looked rather bewildered at the motion, his face flushed and mouth parted in surprise. The movement was familiar to Allen (August was consistent, he'd give him that), but it was shocking to see it from this perspective, made him want to push Elias out of the way and take his place. It took him a good thirty seconds to gather his thoughts, and when he did he felt sick to his stomach as he looked into Elias's fearful puppy dog eyes. "Oh...you don't have to..." He started to choke out.

Tyson froze when he came into the living room to see Elias like that, down on his knees with his head bowed pathetically, right in front of a flustered, uneasy looking Allen. They'd only been gone for five minutes, what had caused this? He may have grabbed Elias's shoulders a little too hard when he hoisted him back upright, causing a confused mewl to escape his throat.

"Don't sit down there like that, Eli," he scolded, "you sit on the couch, like everyone else."

"B...but I..." Elias shook his head in weak protest before shutting himself up, cringing at the stern look on Tyson's face. He was frustrated, if they wanted him on the couch why didn't they say so? Why did they want to confuse him so much? Was it to make him fail, make him easier to punish?

Tyson nodded at him once, turning and making his way reluctantly back to the kitchen. Elias huffed to himself, his shoulders drooping sadly.

"Hey," Allen said softly, grabbing his thigh gently, "it's ok. I remember when I got back I didn't use furniture for weeks. Tyson knows better now, he won't let you do that."

Elias looked at the hand on his leg. Thank God, he thought. He smiled softly at Allen, nodding along to his voice. So that was it, then, Tyson wanted him on the couch. He could look pretty on the couch, August sometimes enjoyed that.

"I know Tyson can get a little...upset, sometimes, but he means well. He just gets discouraged when he can't help."

Elias nodded eagerly again, eyes still on Allen's hand on him. Was his hand tight, or was he just imagining it? It was warm, it fit comfortably around him, and Elias found himself leaning against his arm in response to it. "Thank you," he whispered, "you've always been so kind to me."

"Well of course. What you're going through it's...well, kindness is definitely something you could use right now." Allen was smiling at him, in a way that no one had smiled at him in a long time. It was pure and friendly, not malicious or dangerous or full of lust. It was foreign, it made his chest feel hollow and sad. He didn't deserve to be looked at with such fondness. He would have ran and hid, if the smile didn't also make him feel so nice and warm all over. That made him even more upset, he didn't want to like it, not when he wasn't supposed to be receiving it in the first place. That was like enjoying a gift that had someone else's name on it, and he felt guilty for it.

Allen must've noticed his anxiety, and he pulled his hand away slowly, fingers slipping off his leg one at a time. Elias looked away from him entirely. He wanted to be back on the floor, he wanted his collar, he wanted to be hurt or touched, he wanted to be higher than he was. Most of all, he wanted to know what the hell everyone around here was expecting of him. August had rules, and even outside of those rules, Elias had gotten pretty good at reading his body language so he could guess what August wanted from him. Here was so different, he didn't know what was and wasn't allowed, he didn't know what Allen wanted from him when he grabbed his leg, or what Tyson wanted when he randomly left the room without a word to him. It was all so jumbled, made Elias feel so lost. The molly made it easier for Elias to speak, to listen, but he was still miserable and confused.

"What's wrong, Elias?" Allen asked in a hushed voice, like their conversation was ultra secret, like Leo and Tyson weren't allowed to know that it was taking place.

"It's just hard." He whispered back, folding his hands neatly in his lap. "I don't know what anyone wants anymore. When I try to guess I just look fu-fucking stupid. It's confusing."

"Have you tried asking?"

Elias gawked up at him, like the idea was bizarre. "Asking...?"

"Yeah. If you're not sure, just ask." He said this like it was simple, it couldn't go wrong. "Try it, ask me what I want."

Elias blinked at him, clearly bewildered. "Uh...wh-what do you...want?"

Allen smiled at him, nodding approvingly. "Right now, I want to sit on the couch and talk to you, and I also want dinner, but I'm waiting for it to be finished."

"O...oh." Elias breathed, looking back down at his hands. He guessed that was easy enough, the world didn't crumble around him. He couldn't hide his amazement, he couldn't believe Allen could easily say he wanted things, he must've not been taught that it was against the rules. Or maybe it was just something he outgrew, once he was away from August. Elias didn't think he'd ever outgrow it.

"What about you? What do you want?"

The confused, almost mangled, whimper Elias let out was telling enough, Allen wasn't supposed to ask him that. He was only just now realizing that it was ok to ask others that question, he obviously wasn't ready to answer it.

"Oh I don't... I c-cant..." He stammered, shaking his head vigorously. This was a test, one he could pass. He knew better than to say he wanted anything, he'd been proving that since he came back. He remembered when he accidentally begged Tyson to touch him, using the word 'need'. He must've told Allen, and now Allen was trying to get him to slip up again. He wouldn't, he would be good. He could be a mindless pet with no wants or needs.

"It's ok," Allen reassured him, his hand was on his thigh again, this time a little higher, "you don't have to answer. I get it."

Elias was breathless, he couldn't tell if it was from the question or Allen touching him, but he couldn't seem to breathe deep enough. He couldn't have wants, but still, the warm palm on his leg was enough to make him tremble. If he were allowed to want, he would want someone to lay him down and touch him everywhere, make him feel good because he hadn't felt good in so long, stroke his hair, call him 'good pet', call him 'bunny', tell him he was beautiful and perfect. If he were allowed to want, he would want that so bad it would make him cry.

"Shit, Elias, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," Allen was rushing. Elias's cheeks were wet with his tears, his face was blank and sheet white. Tyson must've heard the commotion, and it wasn't long before he was in front of him, kneeling down to be at his level.

"Hey, Eli, what's going on, love?" He asked him gently, his hands on his shoulders. They weren't grabbing him as tightly now as when he put him on the couch. "Why are you crying?"

Elias wiped his face, shaking his head quickly. "I'm s-sorry!" He whined. "I don't know I j...just..."

Tyson shook his head dismissively, pulling Elias against his chest and rubbing his back. "It's ok. Everything's ok." Tyson held him close as his shoulders shook, allowing him to tire himself out a little. Once he seemed calm, Tyson pulled away from him, stroking his cheek gently as he did. At some point Allen had gotten up and left them alone in the room together, and Elias couldn't help but feel a little relaxed that he wasn't around to watch him fuck up any more. "You alright?"

Elias nodded, sniffling miserably. "I'm sorry."

"No worries, love. Go ahead and get cleaned up, dinner's done."

Elias obeyed instantly, standing up and heading to the bathroom wordlessly. He looked so rough around the edges, washed out from crying and in desperate need of an actual good nights sleep. He debated skipping dinner and going to lie down instead, but then he remembered how much he ached to talk to everyone, be around them, so he changed his mind. He never again wanted to be alone in a separate room when there were people around, it wasn't ever an enjoyable experience. Once he was decidedly more put together, he joined everyone back in the kitchen, setting himself in a chair between Tyson and Leo, mouth glued shut and eyes focused on the plate of food in front of him.

[crazyyfilmyfreak]

The Devil All the Time ( 2020 )

OBVIOUSLY SPOILERS FREE REVIEW

"There's a lot of no-good sons of bitches out there"

Okay alright first of all 

This is not your generic go-to netflix crime thriller if you are watching it with that intention everything is wrong with you 

This Film is dark , not just dark but dark as hell which is filled with gore elements which also includes a multi layered story telling and the film is filled with a group of astonishing cast members and every one of them has a potential to carry the whole film on their shoulders with no hard work but just with grace and ease so these reasons altogether might have over hyped few people's expectations and i think that is the main reason why i am seeing some mixed reviews here and there online or maybe just because you started watching this film with a very wrong intent or wrong mind set like i said before and i am stressing this so much because of in my opinion this film is just perfect maybe there are flaws obviously every film will have flaws but i just couldn't see them ? Maybe because i am a big fan of tom holland i might be little biased but to me this film is top notch and this is a perfect film film 

Now speaking about the cast & film overall 

This is a very slow paced slow burning piece of art 

It takes you to the places you can never think of mentally and it makes you feel completely lost in emotions by the end of the film making you numb 

Antonio Campos is a fucking genius i love his way of story telling 

He's honest , he knows what he is doing , he loves taking risks and he never fears when ever he goes out of the conventional film making style and i very much love how he connected every character in the film like i mean every character in the film is interconnected and if you remove any one character you will feel the void , disturbance and unbalance in the film. 

Film lovers might argue with me or hate me for saying this but i feel this film is so much better than christine 👀🤝🏻 atleast to me ? And this is coming from a person who also loved it a lot 

Now the cast 

I cant speak about everyone in the film because this has such a long list of talented actors 😭 who rocked in the film i am only going to speak abt some of my favourite performances as of now i promise to speak about every other cast member and their performance in the later days coz i am very sure this is a film i am going to talk a lot from now and this is also a film that i am going to watch and enjoy in the future days 

First TOM FUCKING HOLLAND 

I have been seeing this dude's films even before the civil war where he played the spidey role and i always felt he was a very raw and potential actor since his childhood but after seeing him in civil war and spider man hoco its just impossible for me to not like him as an actor ? HE IS SO GOOD ON SCREEN and he makes you believe everything when ever he's on screen maybe its swinging from wall to wall or putting a donut or whatever into a guys mouth while kicking his ass and making it look bad ass af🔥 few might feel this are such a silly examples to say but to me this is about how tom brings a realistic approach to a scene and makes it good and i have always been a big fan of tom holland since spiderman hoco and this is nothing related to tdat but y'all might already know timothee was the second closest option of mcu to cast as spidey and tom grabbed that role ever since tom is just busy with mcu films and where as timothee had a incredible and unbelievable growth as an ACTOR for real to me that is stunning because he did it in such short of span and to me as fan of tom holland part of me was always loving him as spidey but a big heart of me felt a void and sad because tom is missing a lot of great opportunities which has a chance to showcase his real acting abilities which made me think what if timothee got the spidey role instead of tom? Maybe we would have seen a serious tom holland as an actor and this thought killed me everytime but everything happens for a reason and tom holland is undoubtedly the best spidey we have ever got and anyways when films like tdat happen many people realise and understand how great and how fucking incredible tom holland is as an actor and i love when everyone appreciate him for this !! It makes my heart very happy and this is the exact reason why this film is so personal and special to me 

Sorry for completely deviating from the film but this is tumblr and i am not a serious film critic lol so forgive me. 

And speaking about his performance in the film he is just surreal and outstanding . The character that he played is a very complicated one not many relate to that character but every one can understand his emotions, actions and intentions in the film and all the credit goes to tom for bringing a life to that character and playing it in such a beautiful way listen to me very carefully when i am saying this not many actors from this generation can bring bundle of emotions at the same time in a same scene but tom holland does that with such an ease and i stg i am not exaggerating if you watch the film you will know what i mean !! And i am very proud to say i am his big fan 

Now Robbert pattinson 

What the fuck should i talk about this asshole 😂🖕? 

My dude's been killing it since remember me and as an actor like i said in the Tenet Review he has matured a lot as an actor since good time and he played a very powerful and sick role in the film i am not gonna spoil it for others just go and watch the fucking film atleast for him he did a great job and i dont understand how the women and gays are dealing with him? Seriously even as a straight guy its hard for me to concentrate on the film or scenes where ever he's present because this asshole is so fucking hot and sexy 👉👈 The directors should either deglamorise him by making him fat or bald or just hide his face with prosthetic make up or sth just like how directors hide tom hardy's face in every film he's in 🙄. Now coming back to his performance its really hard to dominate him when ever he's on screen dude just want all the attention towards him , such a selfish actor huh 

Bill Skarsgard 

He played a very important and crucial role in the film he maynot have big screen time but we can totally feel his presence through out the film i think this one sentence explains how important his character is to the film and how well he potrayed the role and he's the only guy in the film who got an incredible character growth throughout his journey in the film

Harry Melling 

It would be very unfair if i dont speak about harry's performance in tdat 

DUDE KILLED IT . HE SCARED ME WITH HIS EMOTIONS AND EXPRESSIONS . He didn't even a play a negative role but he just added a lot of depth not only to his character but also the film with his intimidating portrayal 

Sebastian stan 

This is the most honest and a very raw performance from Sebastian stan so far ( i am saying this based on the films that i have seen of his ) i just wish he had more screen time thats the only thing that i didnt like in the film also there are so many blanks that needs to be filled about his character 

Eliza Scanlen

I dont remember her from any film or tv series that i have seen before but she's outstanding in the film , the character doesnt have much something new to offer so i can't speak a lot for her but as far as the character concerned she did her best and her performance is a impressive one and many people are gonna love her . 

Riley Keough 

Unlike the previous films & tv series she's been in 

This film gave her a very challenging role and she's the only women in the film who's been through ups and downs and has a very complicated but a impressive character growth with minimal limitations and dimensions 

She was fabulous and incredible . It just stuns me how the character has begin and how it ended at the end 

And special mention to jason clarke and the old couple who played grandparents ( kind of ) to Arvin Russel and lenora . Not all heroes wear the cape. 

Finally despite the mention of god several times in the film this is not really about god at all its about the DEVIL , The DEMON that carries and plays a very pivotal role in the film you cannot see it but you can sense it and feel it 

Its about the blind faith, its about the irreversible & inescapable fate . I really love how Antonio Campos has connected all the dots by the end of the film with a very impressive film making and with a steady gothic theme running till the end internally and i haven't completely finished the book ( The devil all the time ) but if anyone really wants to completely bring the book life they cannot do it in a single film it will take you atleast 4 or 5 tv series to do so but Antonio Campos did it with a single film and added a very deep meaning to the core of the film w/o deviating from the roots of the book & even touched the aspects like duality of a man and some of you grateful fucks are complaining about him 

OBVIOUSLY films ard subjective but you all need to be more open about this film 

In simple words please fucking watch this film guys 🤗❤ 

This one is not for everyone but everyone will have atleast a small aspect in the film that y'all are going to like / love / hate / discuss about. 

The devil all the time is violent , brutal , honest and perfect in every possible way atleast to me and i really want you all to watch it if you're into such type of stuff 

Remember No country for old men ? Now make it 10 times more violent but add some meaning to it with a realistic approach but more slow burning drama and a little bit of darkness ... now that is what The Devil all the time is .

Gif credits : Milesgmorales

[yeoldontknow]

All Quiet

Author’s Note: wahooo! another chanvember event in the books! this is yet another personal journey for me. i call this: an ode to single living lmao. i hope you enjoy! Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader (oc; female) Genre: angst; romance; fluff; au Summary: After your breakup, Chanyeol moves out of the house you shared together. It’s fine, until it absolutely isn’t. Over time, you start to miss him - miss him in places and ways you never thought you would. Eventually, you realize you miss home, too - even though you never actually left. Rating: R (just being safe? there’s really nothing awful in here, but some pretty adult themes rear their head) Warnings: mentions of anxiety; dark thoughts in a depressive episode; brief mentions of death (no major characters); heavy angst; a bug in a room (if youre afraid of bugs i suppose); men in bars who dont know when to shut up lmao Word Count: 8K look mom i did it

It’s not like he would have helped in this situation.

You tell yourself this while you breathe, rather erratically, in the center of your kitchen attempting to ease yourself back to a state of calm. In one hand, you clutch the cold handle of your Swiffer while, in the other, you wield the can of raid as though it is a weapon. Chest tight and gaze unwavering, it’s hard to tell when small inconveniences such as this started to insight a deep, slow panic, paralyzing you with fear, leaving room for little else. 

A brief walk through your memory clearly reminds you that, months ago, you would not have responded quite so viscerally - truly, you probably would have laughed, an exasperated sound dripping with disdain for the season or the city or the poor construction of your apartment.

If a lightbulb burst, you would change it with little complaint, standing precariously on your step stool; when the fire alarm started beeping, even after you’d changed the battery, you constructed a tower of books to remove it, calling yourself resourceful; when the popcorn machine erupted into flames, an electric fire sparking in the center of its hot dome, you unplugged it and laughed and laughed, glad to be alive. 

And if you saw a bug, you would handle it - he liked to call it handling, as though it was difficult, as though it was painful, as though something like this could be considered a threat that required strategy and an iron will. You’d always laughed when he did that, all six feet of him cowering behind your small frame, desperately seeking shelter and shielded by the mystery of your majestic stoicism. 

No. Chanyeol would not have helped. In cases like this, he was worse than afraid, endearingly useless, but at least then, you think, you had someone to protect. Someone who was not you. Someone who needed you.

For a long while, you stand still, impassive and frozen, not because of the insect flying around your bedroom but because you think it odd that this is what makes you miss him. For the first time in a long time, you want him here, a thing you never thought you’d crave. Not after everything, and certainly not after...after.

The first time this happened, he was a mess, a disaster - a gentle description given the way he flailed himself off the couch and bumped bruises into his knees from the coffee table. It was the fastest you’d seen him move in ages, across the room in a flash and yelling, stressed beyond reason, before you even had a chance to lower the screen of your laptop.  

You laughed then, the sight of his flailing limbs a form of divine entertainment, endearing in its chaos, bemused and bewildered by the speed of his movements. Words left him, reduced him to vague wails of anguished contempt as he pointed, rather vaguely, in the direction of what he had seen. Even with his extended hand as a general marker of location, you struggled to see what he saw, expecting something more, something large and unwieldy, and something unspeakable. 

In the end, it was small, a tiny thing you would have missed if you had not been so carefully looking. A spider. A house spider. An insect you had grown to expect both within and beyond domestic spaces.

For him, you were brave. Would you have been brave for yourself? It does not matter, not really. You were comfortable, rolling your eyes as you went to grab the dust pan. It was nothing - you told him it was nothing as you walked past him, catching hold of his fingers as he latched onto your hand for support. Even then, you felt you’d never find this annoying, something about watching someone so imposing and so large crumble, so dramatically, was humorous, special. 

Now, you realize it was not humor. It was never humor. It was need.

In the end, the thing you relished most, always with him, was the way he made you feel needed. Wanted. Chanyeol needed you then, at least as badly as you felt, and knew, you needed him. In those moments - in that moment - your love for him finally felt fair, a balance to the improbable scale of need versus want.

Without him, the house is empty. In moments of fear, there is no yelling, no flailing - no display of panic to return to later and laugh about or through, your own expression of panic shock. Lately, you’re slow to react, calm and careful, gentle movements out of the room and a silent exclamation of disgust. More than anything, now, you are aware of the all encompassing quiet - the way you never really let anyone know you need help, not even yourself.

Now, standing in the kitchen, the silence envelopes you, enough to convince yourself there isn’t a problem at all. With the bedroom door shut, you can almost pretend the light isn’t actually on, that nothing is there, that you meant to cook a meal rather than fight a war, distracted and alarmed by something out of the corner of your eye. Now, you can almost pretend it was the quiet that scared you, and little else.

Now, without anyone to need you, you can almost pretend you don’t even need yourself. 

Almost. 

Closing your eyes, you take in a deep breath, existing within the feeling of lack and the feeling of loneliness, the realization that there is nothing here except you and this thing and only one can stay.

You open your eyes. You grip the handle. 

Your steps to the bedroom are quiet, but, at least they are steps. 

Even before you settle on the barstool, you can tell he will come talk to you.

Thursday night and you've been drawn out, head empty and focus dulled as you walk toward the bitter sting of cold gin. You're not really looking for conversation, mostly just looking for noise, the cacophonous hum of others, indistinguishable voices serving to remind you the world is peopled even, if they aren't your people. 

He sees you as you walk in, eyes catching your vacant scan of the room and demanding your attention. For a moment you’re grateful for the reminder that this is a place where you need to be aware and astute, ready to leave or ready to stay, and, conversely, aware that neither option is ideal. 

The point is that he sees you and makes sure that you see him, deftly reminding you that eclipses are always known even if they aren't truly witnessed.

He’s new to the bar, your regular haunt with a broken card reader on the jukebox and the barely there space between the tables. The brown liquor in his cup has put confidence in his spine and false hope in his roaming eyes, a smirk pulling at his lips as he looks and looks and looks, waiting for his voice to be heard. Helen slides you a Gin and Tonic, your usual, offering a welcoming smile before glancing sidelong with a grimace as the heat of his sudden proximity radiates into your shoulder. 

Even before you settle on the barstool, he's ready.

‘They make ‘em strong here,’ he says with a smile, regarding your glass with an expression of feigned interest.

The gravel in his voice is uncomfortable, an itch at the back of your throat that you swallow three times to alleviate, lips pulling into a sneer, scorning the upturned pretentiousness of his syllables. His shoulders roll back to puff out his chest and your thighs tighten around the seat, heels anchoring onto the support bar at the base of the stool, perched and ready to depart. Offering him a curt nod, you study the military edges of his short haircut, deciding, almost immediately, that you will not be here long. 

At this, you smile, aware that people on barstools rarely are. 

A smile he mistakes as an invitation.

Pride cascades over his features and settles in the dark corners beneath his cheek bones, cutting shapes into his expression you wish did not exist. As he settles on the stool next to yours, your stomach drops, the light putting a foreboding glimmer in his eyes, the kind that makes you want to scoff, and to mutter this fucking guy. 

Offering him a once over, a look he reads as interest, smiling wider and feeling encouraged, you confirm he is relatively harmless. Even standing, he’s slightly shorter than you, already balding, soft in all the ways Chanyeol was not, and different enough to make you think it would be might to forget, at least for a little while. 

But he rests his arms on the bar top, still smiling and still feeling like he's tasting the precipice of control, proud that it’s barely seven and celebrating like he’s already found his moment. The new position offers you a glimpse of the hidden strength nestling in the grooves of his knuckles, muscles in the forearm that disappear under his rolled sleeves, and you remember to be careful. Now, you remember that trust is earned, not worn, and so you lean back, pulling out of his orbit just enough to remember you aren't looking for a game tonight, and he cannot make you play.

Emboldened by your silence, he begins to tell you a story, the kind that meanders over ice cubes, breath and lies hot enough to put condensation on the glass. He talks about boxing, a topic you know next to nothing about but enough about men to know it's a tactic, a subject they know you can't argue with because you don't have enough details. But you can always hear it, the gaps in the spaces between the words - Russia, a boat, a large sum of money, the rehearsed pauses and the smile that doesn't seem to fade. Words and more words, demanding that you feel impressed and that you feel special. 

He chose to tell you this story. Aren't you so lucky?

It's when he talks about a scar on his arm that your mind wanders, rather your heart wanders. Thursday's gin was meant to be an escape, but instead you miss Chanyeol and the almost spectacular way he could talk shit - because that's what this is. Shit. Endless nonsense to make you feel interested or curious enough to give him a number, a blowjob, another drink, something that reminds him he's valid and not entirely worthless.

Chanyeol talked shit as a hobby, without any desire to receive and mostly as a means of satire. But even in jest, he was still entertaining, captivating, the best storyteller you ever knew.

On your first date with Chanyeol, he was nervous, shy. He smiled a lot and laughed in all the right places, kept his eyes on you like he was watching the dawn - but then, you never really thought of that night as your first date. 

The night you met, it wasn't that he saved you from a disastrous conversation with a man and his friends and their over eager hands. Rather, he enticed you away, a paradoxically nervous glint in his eye that said he was unsure you wanted his help while protective enough to remind you he was watching, and that you weren't alone. 

Someone, you can't remember who because immediately after Chanyeol spoke they stopped mattering, and, for years, no one else ever mattered again, had mentioned the time they went skydiving in Australia, their malfunctioning parachute, and the way they almost passed out, so close to the ground. 

Several pairs of eyes walked over your skin, waiting for your reaction, your gasp of shock and concern, the euphoria of a near death experience so similar to the ecstasy of orgasm bleeding into a hum of interest. With their eyes on you, you knew it was a trick, and you cocked an eyebrow of polite derision, looking past them for an exit. They did not move, just nodded and continued. You felt Chanyeol behind you, isolated from the circle that had formed but still at the bar, still a body that gave way to a malformed shape that meant he had to be included, regardless. 

'I once almost got a tattoo when I was in Australia.' 

He announced this information like he'd been asked, as though the attention had belonged to him the entire night, the deep thunder of his voice cutting through the deluge of unwanted contact. 

Brow furrowed in confusion, you turned to look at him, placed a protective hand over your drink, just in case, and cocked a wary eyebrow at him. He smiled, warm and inviting, but only at you. His eyes wandered over the thick gaits of the others, skeptical and cautious before the expression disappeared altogether, resting his head on his hand as he leaned casually against the bar.

'Yeah, it was wild,’ he explained, sounding bored. 'The tattoo gun was shaped like an alligator claw, but I think that's because I was under a boardwalk and I'd lost a bet while drunk.' 

Behind you, someone snorted, annoyed. 'That's not true.'

Chanyeol shrugged, nonchalant. 'It was a lucky thing I got sober. Always been kind of afraid of the sea, you know? Love the beach, hate the waves. Anyway, you know that feeling that you're being watched? Like something is lurking behind the corner, watching you, unfurling its claws and waiting for you to turn around, fixing its cold stare on your skin. And you know, right? You just know that if you turn, you'll see it - because you have to, even if you don't want to, just to prove. yourself correct? That you're not crazy?'

'What are you talking about, man?' came another voice, generic and empty of the music Chanyeol naturally carried.

Even as you watched him speak, you knew it was a lie, a jab at all the bullshit tossed around between men who felt like they had something to prove. Even as he spoke, tone dry and words quick, you knew he found the bravado of hyper-masculinity just as amusing as you.

'I'm talking about that space of time between knowing something is wrong and knowing something is fucked up,’ he continued, feigning a passion that made you press your lips together to keep from laughing. ‘That sliver of difference in between. It's fragile there - like, if you look at this napkin and you only look at the napkin, you can almost believe something is lurking behind it and it wants you. It wants to break you. That's the fucked up thing lurking in the distance, the kind of threat that feels good enough to see even if you don't want to.'

'Fuck you,’ someone spat. ‘You're drunk.'

'Anyway,’ he carried on, unaffected as though he hadn’t heard anyone at all. ‘That's why I was under the boardwalk and also why I left. Also, you really don't want to get a tattoo somewhere that smells like a cross between dry fish and burned butter. This guy on the boardwalk was making popcorn at his stall and all I could imagine was the yellow paint as the butter, just five too many pumps and it sticks on your arm long enough that you feel greasy forever.'

Everyone knew it was a lie, but that didn't matter. You really didn't care that it had been so obviously fake, fake enough that you laughed at the insanity of it. All that mattered was that he smiled through it, used words and details so obviously, ridiculously untrue that you believed he was naturally funny, and unafraid to be utterly silly, childlike and bold in all the ways you were not. 

The rest of the night, you watched him, watched him watch you, without any hope your expectation, simply glad that you were smiling. 

He was always like that, creating magic from nothing, holding the world in a story, his hands, his brown eyes and your brown liquor. Chanyeol was always like that, making the world spark just because he could.

'And I went down hard, you know?'

The guy is still talking, talking about boxing and Russia or maybe neither of those things anymore, but. your drink has melted down into cold water, the memory of gin only lingering on your teeth. He keeps talking like he means every word, like it's important that he survived whatever match he was in, no cushion on his fists and his hands still hurt. It's not fun, it's not creative, it's just angry. 

Glancing down at the wet rimmed paper of your napkin, you frown. Thursday brought you here to be alone, not to share another night and another story with Chanyeol, even if it's only in memory. Even if, more than anything, you want to share this with him - want to hear what he'd have to say about Russia and boxing, and how many boat jokes he could fill in between. 

‘Sorry,’ you interrupt abruptly. Hand in your pocket, you pull out your wallet and leave a ten dollar bill. ‘I forgot to change my tampon.’

Leaving the stool is a liberation, a relief that eases the tension in your shoulders. You don't bother another glance at the man whose gaze of disgust lingers at your back. Pushing through the door, you smile.

You were always good at talking shit, too. 

Hell, you learned from the best. 

Home is a lie society likes to sell to the lonely, the needy, and the unsuspecting. 

You tell yourself this - or rather, this thought grips you, holds tight and refuses to leave - as you sit on your couch, the couch you bought from someone else, just to be rid of him, anxious and alone and utterly, completely overwhelmed. The world sells the concept of home - a location, a place, a thing that delivers comfort as though it was never someone who held you, touched, loved you. Home, they will tell you, is a plaque on the wall where your heart should be, a picture frame of smiling faces and, most of all, shelter.

Society tells you home is a thing that does not leave. 

Your home left months ago, left you with a roof, some walls, and a TV too wide for the stand. Biting your lip, you watch as it teeters at the edges, secure but unstable, a memory of the fragility of the things people like to build together. Outside, a car honks. A bus passes. The noise of the world comes in through the loose seal of your closed window and you hear the way life exists, entirely separate from you.

Work was too much - too much and conversely not enough. All of you, down to the very base of your soul, craves the stimulation of a challenge or a conversation full of passion, words shared and knowledge exchanged, something new and something hard, something that fights back. You've been numbed into silence and acceptance, things that never sat well against your skin, leaving you drained of the all things that make you you.

Tonight, you miss the laughter, the way he'd always talk and make you laugh, even against your will. Tonight, you realize you miss him, miss the way he held you, nurtured you, comforted you, even against your will - even before you realize you miss him at all. Your dinner, a frozen pizza, usually so warm and inviting, sits on your coffee table, untouched and uneaten. 

He would have hated this. 

Years into your relationship, he adopted the habit of kissing at your fingers with an erotic smile as he pressed them against his lips, praising the way they smelled of garlic. With your fingers at his lips, he said you smelled of magic and creation, a kitchen witch that had possessed his heart. Always, he'd approach you from behind, wrap his arms around your waist and watch you cook - studying the care and the gentleness and the way you unfurl when surrounded by food, bringing it to life. 

Tonight, your meal is lonely. And Chanyeol always knew something was wrong when you didn't want to cook, having learned the aggression and the disheartened angst that came with putting something in the oven, a meal that existed without love. Nights like this, he would cook for you instead, making you laugh and making you smile - making something.

Without him, you wonder what you've made since. 

You certainly haven't made a home. When you keep still, while not altogether keeping calm, you let your mind wander to the empty expanse of the future, an extension of this moment that seems to bleed onward into eternity. Nothing is here. No one pays enough attention to your light footsteps, coming and going of you too erratic to truly form a pattern. When you are sick, it is just you. When you are hurt, it is just you. And when you die, likely, it will be just you - found only when the smell seems to linger.

Glancing around the walls, you remember the act of picking your apartment together, the eager way he suggested you move in - with fire on his lips and light in his eyes - and the unfathomable way the broker's fees seemed to unmake you, broken instead. Defeated, you told him you wanted him to do it, that one more call and one more unfulfilled wish would convince you to stay in your own apartment until time had healed the wounds of your pride. 

Sometimes, you think you made a home in the way he came alive with excitement, delighted to do something, to be in control and in command, not out of greed but out of the pleasure of being alive with you. In just under a week, he'd found the apartment, always so much more optimistic and prepared for the battle of negotiation than you ever had been. When he called, his words came fast, almost negotiating you into being convinced, announcing, victoriously, that he'd found it. 

By the time you arrived, he wasn't calling it home, he wasn't calling it good - he was calling it ours. 

Pushing through the door, one look at his face, at the jovial delight and the urge to make something igniting his soul, you decided quickly it would be, if only because he decided to share something with you, anything at all. The kitchen lacked a dishwasher, but with his hands at your hips and his lips at your neck, the enthusiasm he poured into your veins assured you that he'd help - you would not be alone. 

He'd do the dishes, he'd kiss your hands, wear the tight, yellow gloves to keep his skin soft, and let the smell of soap and passion replace the stoicism of mechanized convenience. 

Somehow, the tangibility of him felt better, more real. Special, because it was him. 

Neither of you wanted to admit it, but the first night in the space was uncomfortable, sharing a new bed rather than a bed, feeling lost and feeling unsure. You missed your apartment, the way it was yours, something that belonged to just you; he missed the freedom of coming home or not coming home at all, unattached and unfettered. Between the sheets, you were scared to let your skin touch, wondering if you had rushed into romance beyond rushing into real estate. 

Chanyeol was always more brave than you were - not confident, not assured, just courageous, curling over your body to pull you to his chest, demanding your closeness. He stole your lips the same way he stole your breath, kissing and kissing until you believed all that ever mattered was your complete and total possession of his heart.

'It will be okay,' he said, hope still lingering in his voice, turned then into a vice rather than a virtue. 'I promise it will be better in the morning.'

'Maybe it will be better when we paint,' you mused, unsure a morning could make anything really better, the sunlight only serving to remind you of all the ways you could never make a space feel full.

That morning, you woke to the smell of pancakes, sugar and butter and Chanyeol, fresh from a shower, the steam still lingering in the en suite bathroom.

You walked out into the kitchen and saw him, hair a mess and old boxers worn to a state of tattered, faded grey. He made one pancake at a time, the fry pan too small for such large circles, all your useful kitchen supplies still residing in unmarked boxes. Leaning on the frame, you watched him, the long line of his spine, the way the sun caught his skin, the gold of it making the universe shimmer, he your Midas, as he looked at you and smiled. The trust in his eyes taught you to believe - that it is not the lungs that breathe, but the soul; that you could float if you wanted to, but it was choice that kept you rooted to the earth, the choice to be next to him. 

That home was a place that smelled like him, always and forever.

When he looked away, the edge of it all turned, felt yourself hanging on the lack of words, the nausea that lingered in between, ready for this - that chilling moment when there was nothing left to say. You'd found home and found Chanyeol, a new space without anything that spoke of yours, and the emptiness learning to take hold.

But it never came, just shifted. Into his skin and his kisses, and the way he brought you pleasure even when he wasn't touching you. Always, you would hear him. 

You could always count on him for words.

Reaching over to the coffee table, you flip over your phone, pressing the home button to illuminate the screen. Some texts, a few emails, no sound. His name doesn’t show up - you weren’t expecting it to, but the lack of it hurts, years and years flashing through your mind when his name was the first on your screen, his picture the first you saw.

Now, it’s the moon. Now, you want to call him, to fill the gap with anything, even if it’s anger.

You could always count on him for words.

Now, alone, trapped in the marrow of absence, you find yourself wondering.

Can you count on yourself?

You start to sing. It sounds empty.

But, at least now, there is sound, even if it is hollow. 

Fifteen hours into your drive, with only thirty more from home, the flat tire defeats you. Something about this torn rubber breaks you in a way that harsh words and colds stares never could, a shame pressed upon your shoulders that makes you feel despondent and ignorant. 

Standing on the side of the road, you eye the flat with an empty stare, willing it to fix itself. Images run through your mind, the memory of greasy hands and sore backs from kneeling at such an odd angle - the rain, the mud, the cell phone light, and the way the sky opened up to gift you the stars. Once upon a time, you knew how to do this - someone taught you when you were sixteen; someone showed you when you were twenty-eight, and so you know the knowledge exists within you. You've done this before.

But then, the memories turn, and you realize those experiences weren't yours, they were shared. It was always him turning the jack, him pulling at the bolts, always Chanyeol. 

Tipping your head back, you close your eyes and release a hissed sigh through your clenched teeth. The road on either side is empty, unusual for a stretch so close to the city, your decision to go home on a weeknight nowhere close to a holiday leaving you abandoned. Above you, the bruising of the sky as it turns to night seems to haunt you, the moon taking on a gleam of deceit, one that says your failure is being watched with keen interest. Not an hour before, you had marveled at this purple and pink and golden shade, smiled to yourself at the luxury of witnessing the beauty that comes from simplicity. 

An hour ago, you were glad and finally learning how to feel it - learning how to feel okay with being alone.

Now, the world around you is quiet, empty of life apart from the crows that wander over the yellow lines, hungry and searching and waiting. Chanyeol's voice resonates in your ear, whispered words from a conversation long ago.

'The most difficult jobs are the most rewarding,' he said, showing you how to fix an air conditioning vent. 'We have to earn our independence.' 

You need him. 

The feeling of it hits you in the center of your chest, weighing you down as you turn and bring yourself to the ground, back resting against your car. This is no longer a missing, this is need. You're too dark, too serious, too frustrated, too proud to see the humor or the joy in this situation. Once, you thought maybe you were, that you could be, but that person left with him, the ghost of that shell holding his hand tightly as he walked out the door. 

His contact information looks strange without the heart and puppy emojis on either side, somehow off-center and wrong. For a while, you stare at his name until the letters start to become unrecognizable, until you think his name has been spelled wrong since the moment you changed it, unsure you know how to read it at all. Your finger hesitates over the call button as though it lingers over his skin, like he can feel you through the glass and choosing to let your souls touch means choosing to let yourself get hurt again. 

Looking up, you realize the sky has started to darken and, now, you don't really have the choice to be selfish. 

Chanyeol answers on what must be the first ring, his voice confused and sluggish in contrast to his quick response. ‘Hello?’

He still sounds like honey. He still sounds like power. He still sounds like yours.

The deep richness of his voice pulls the air from your lungs and puts wetness in your eyes, and you bite your lip to keep your voice stable. ‘Chanyeol.’

‘What’s wrong?’ He was always too aware, too observant, to hide from, seeing straight through to your heart like it was his to bare. ‘Are you okay?’

Six months into dating, your grandmother passed away and, for some reason, it was understood that he would go with you to the funeral. The bitterness of the news hurt, but the knowledge that he was the first person you chose to call, that he had become the thing you needed more than you needed silence and space to grieve, cut through the dull ache of loss and replaced it, just partially, with change. It was understood, then, that this was something more serious than dating, than exclusive interest, than sex and the morning, sometimes even the night, after. Calling him meant you were making space for him, allowing him the room and the opportunity to ache with you.

Even then, so early into your relationship, he heard your voice and he knew. 

Tonight, he uses the same tone, the same speed of recognition and care, and you exhale thickly, the heat of your tears lingering on your cheeks. How strange, you think, to feel truly seen.

‘I’m okay,' you lie.

‘No, you’re not,' he presses, stern and adamant. 'What happened?’

Releasing a bitter laugh, you look down between your legs, sheepish. This should not hurt as much as death and grief, but then that's precisely what this is. For months, you've been mourning the loss of him. 

‘I got a flat tire,' you murmur. 

Chanyeol releases a sigh of relief, and when he speaks you can hear the smirk that pulls at his lips. ‘Where are you?’

Picturing that smile puts the sun in your chest, and immediately you regret calling him. How stupid, you think, to just want to see him smile. ‘Don’t come. I can do it myself.’

‘Where are you,' he repeats, this time not as a question.

Raising your gaze, you stare at the mile marker, the last sliver of dying light illuminating the numbers. Still, you don't speak, waiting for this mistake to pass, finding you luxuriate in the sound of his even breathing.

But Chanyeol speaks first, voice soft and gentle, sweet in all the ways that made your heart learn to crave him. ‘Please let me help you.’

And without hesitation, you reply. ‘I’m at mile marker 67 on I-95 North.'

You hear him gathering his keys, the metallic jingle making your chest lurch, haunted by the sound of his keys at the apartment door. 

‘I’ll be there soon,' he says, hanging up before you can protest.

The white light of his Mercedes headlights put a halo around his head as he approaches, not twenty minutes later in a pair of sweatpants and your favourite hoodie. On sight, you grimace, wondering if he wore this on purpose, to remind or tease you, forcing you to recall all the times he ran his hands over your skin, hidden under the cloth, cupping your breasts and whispering into your neck I love it when when when you wear this. 

But then, you remember that this was his favourite hoodie, too, the one he wore when he needed comfort the most. 

In this light, all you can see are the tips of his ears, comically pronounced thanks to his backwards cap, and his smile, warm and affectionate and understanding. 

He says nothing as he takes the jack from your hand, your grip on the metal tight enough to be a lifeline, his own strong fingers easing it from your grasp with a tenderness he used to reserve for your spine. Your fingers touch as he does this, the electric current of contact running up your arm and making you shiver, still there, ever present, refusing to vanish no matter the distance of time or geography. Chanyeol keeps still, jaw set and arms tense, a sign he felt it too but refuses to give himself away, more obvious just from his concentrated effort. 

Nudging at your shoulder, he guides you closer to the hood as he settles on the ground, getting to work without complaint. You keep your eyes on him as he moves, on his hands and the barely there curve of his ass beneath his oversized sweats - two sizes too big for his lean frame and still not large enough for one of your thighs. With him in such close proximity, your heart starts to race again, like it always did, your brow furrowing in the recollection that this was always your heart rate. With Chanyeol, you always felt excited, enthralled, awake - hands warm and blood hot, teetering on the prospect of a fever that only his touch could keep at bay. 

With him so close, you remember the constant state of craving that seemed to consume you, the love in your spirit suddenly dusted off - not dead, just dormant - and reminding how it really feels to need someone. Crossing your arms over your chest, you swallow thickly, hoping to combat the lump that's settled in your throat.

To your chagrin, he changes it in less than five minutes, surely some kind of record, carrying the flat to your trunk as though it is weightless. 

Staring straight ahead, you look out at the field, the sparse trees, the new dark sky, and sigh. ‘Don’t you realize what a problem this is?’

‘What is?’ he questions, the slam of your trunk echoing over his words. He comes to stand beside you, leaning against your car with his hands in his pockets. 'That you can’t change a tire? Trust me, I’m deeply aware. What would you have done if I wasn’t here?’

‘No -' Shaking your head, your protest comes quickly, without thought, only to cut yourself off, realizing he's partially correct. ‘I mean, yeah true, but I meant that you’re still the first person I call in a crisis. When I need someone, I’m calling you.’ 

Your gaze lingers on the softness of his cheeks before you find the small freckle on the bridge of his nose, so trained to look for it even without the light to put it on display. Biting your lip, you sigh, refusing to let yourself get distracted. ‘You’re still my emergency contact.’

Dropping his chin to his chest, Chanyeol regards his feet for a moment, pensive as he takes in your words. With a hum, musical and rich, a sound that belongs solely to him, he looks at you once more, resolute. ‘I don’t see that as a problem. You should think about why you still want to call me. Really,' he presses, 'think about why you still trust me.’

‘Yes, exactly!’ you exclaim. ‘I still trust you even after you left me!’

A hollow laugh bursts from his chest as his eyes go wide, regarding you defiantly. ‘You were never careful with blame or accusations,' he mumbles, shaking his head as he looks everywhere but your face.

You scoff. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Turning his gaze back to you, the heat and ferocity of his expression makes you step back, just a bit, startled by the intensity. ‘You really want to talk about this here? Now?’

Refusing to back down, just like always, just like you always couldn't with him, you roll your shoulders back, standing tall. ‘We’re alone, aren’t we? I struggle to see the difference between here and home. The location and setting for our arguments was never an issue.' 

‘Fine,' he bites out, impassioned and embittered. 'Yes. I left, but you didn’t give me much of a choice.' Angling himself towards you, he pulls his hand from his pocket and presses his fingers to his chest, emphatic. 'I left, but I still love you.’

‘Jesus, Chanyeol,' you chuckle, looking past him into the shadows, feeling bereft. It hurts to see him so wounded, just as visceral and difficult as it always was, likely always will be.

‘What?' he snaps. 'Too uncomfortable for you? Too honest?’

Mimicking his pose, you turn to face him, matching his intensity. ‘No,' you sneer, aware that the sound is cruel. Immediately, you grimace, backpedaling from brutality of your tone, never really able to be hurtful with him. At least, not intentionally. ‘I just struggle to understand why you’d leave if you still love me. Why didn’t you try to make it work? I loved you with all of me.’

Chanyeol's expression morphs from one of combative disbelief to one of pained dejection, all at once appearing lost and small and so like the boy you promised to never let go of. 

‘You never let me love you,' he tries, an urgency tucked between his words that makes your heart sink. 'It always caused you pain to let me in, like loving me hurt you.’

Tears burn at your eyes in the wake of his words, the house of cards you'd constructed out of your memories together neither collapsing nor tearing, simply changing from red to blue, taking a new shape and a new colour, his perception casting shadows over the world you'd built. 

The words you said, when you were happy and in love and it was easy, collide with the words you yelled, when you were hurt and jealous and scared, and all you can remember, on either end, was a love you felt into your bones - a love that always made you feel like you were breaking. Loving Chanyeol, from the moment you met him until the moment you watched him leave felt like learning to love an earthquake, breaking yourself open to fit him inside. In love, the tectonic shift of your soul was merely collateral for way he made you feel - everything, all the beauty and the horror of it, everything more visceral than you'd ever experienced it before.

In love, he found you scared, aware that if it ever ended, there would be nothing left of you, all the good parts of your heart shattering to a raw, sharp edge of sorrow.

‘Because it always ends like this, Chanyeol!’ Even as you speak, you know you’re pleading with him, but for what you cannot be sure. Forgiveness? Maybe. Understanding? You never had to ask. Perhaps, you think, just for him to tell you he was scared, too. ‘It always ends in pain!’

Unable to stop himself, moved beyond any semblance of control, he steps closer to you with both hands outstretched, making to cup your face, to make you listen, before he remembers himself, dropping them awkwardly to your arms. He grips your biceps, touch gentle and eyes wide, searching your face, bold and, just like always, courageous. 

‘But it wasn’t hurting in the moment!’ he exclaims, his grip tightening on your arms before he loosens, eyes dropping to his hands hold you. ‘You rushed us here,’ he finishes, tone soft.

‘Every time…’ Your words drift into nothingness as your close your eyes, recalling every argument, the hours you spent awake or alone, afraid of losing him and afraid of losing yourself. Chest tight, your breath comes in shallow inhales, your hands coming to rest over his, the warmth in his skin helping you ground. ‘It felt like you were asking for my soul.’

‘Did you ever think maybe,’ he begins, gentle and kind, inching closer still as he pulls you to him, his affection a gravitational pull drawing you to him. ‘You already had mine? It would have balanced us out.’ 

Opening your eyes, you cast him a pained expression, knowing, down to his core, he was always too independent to love you the way he said he did. ‘That’s too much.’ You shake your head, weakly protesting his words. ‘What about you? Sometimes you wouldn’t come home until dawn, needing the space, and I got that -’

He cuts you off. ‘You are the only person who gets that, and you know it.’

‘Let me finish,’ you press, falling back into the ease of softness you always provided him, feeling like, finally, you are home. ‘We are both too independent to give one another our souls. That’s too much of your heart for one person to hold.’

Without hesitation, he pulls you directly to his chest, moving his hands away from yours and to your face, emphatic and devastatingly present. 

‘You aren’t listening, my love,’ he murmurs. ‘I found myself in you. I had myself and I had you,’ he explains, smiling as though he understands a secret you can only just touch, tangentially and at arm’s length.

He keeps smiling even as he finishes speaking, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. The intimacy of it sends your hands to his chest, ready to push him away but halting upon contact, feeling his heart beat like thunder against his sternum. 

‘Chanyeol…’ you mumble, a protest that splinters on impact.

He lets one hand walk down your face, your neck, lowering to the small of your back as he tucks you against him, protective and nurturing. Forehead unmoved and nose touching yours, he smirks. ‘Stop me,’ he challenges, knowing, even now, even when you’re not really his, you will not.

Sliding your arms around his chest, you let yourself hold him, aware, even as your heart begins to adorn itself in feathers, that this is a bad idea. ‘Chemistry was never our problem. You know that.’

‘I know,’ he agrees, a million words living and dying between you both, all unspoken while still understood, his thumb gliding gingerly over your cheekbone. ‘And you know I’m a glutton.’

‘One day,’ you whisper, leaning up into the warm cascade of his breath over your lips, mouth and soul suddenly ravenous for him, ‘you’re going to love someone more than me.’

‘Don’t tell me what to do.’ This close, his words are embers of a dying breath, and your eyes flutter short, ready to kiss their ashes. ‘And I know,’ he continues, quieter still, ‘you will never love anyone as much as you love me.’

The familiar fog of his adoration clouds your mind, limbs heavy and skin tightening, parched and longing for his touch, your words jumbled together into a single breath. ‘Were bad at this, Chanyeol. You know it.’

‘You’re learning it.’ Chanyeol doesn’t need further explanation to know you mean love - learning to love and live and crumble beneath the wait of yearning for another person. ‘Me? I’m great at loving you, and shit at it with anyone else.’

Unable to hold back any longer, your mouths come together in a kiss that makes your hands fist into his hoodie, pulling at his shoulder blades. Chanyeol hums into your mouth, slanting over your lips with a possessive growl, hard and deep as he runs his tongue over your bottom lip. Whimpering, you open for him, never truly able to deny him access to the things he craves most, always offering him more and more, satisfied only when you have your fill of one another. 

It’s almost innocent the way he kisses you first with his soul and then with his mouth, tongue sliding against yours as a reminder that he means it - rough enough and powerful enough to make it clear he was not moving on, never wanting to move on, waiting for you three steps ahead. It’s not innocent, the way he moans into you, hands needy and fingers rough, pressing into your back to ground you, possess you, swallowing your breath and demanding you never leave again. 

When you separate, his pupils are dilated, lips pink and swollen as he struggles to come down. The tips of your fingers starting to tingle, head empty and heart full.

‘Where do we go from here?’ he manages, the delicate hopefulness of his words much like crystal in a storm. 

Closing your eyes, you let the burn of his optimism eclipse against your skin, illuminating the deep navy of the sky in a way the sun never could. It’s rare, you know, for people like you to have second chances - to kiss the sun twice and come away unharmed, wearing only your callous, self-inflicted wounds. It’s rare to be let in, and only now, watching Chanyeol breathe into the totality of his fear, do you realize you let him in long before you accepted that you did. 

And with a smile, you reach up, cupping his cheek and feeling your blood race at the way he nuzzles into your touch. Sometimes, you think, it’s easy. Other times, it’s a torment. And that, you realize, is the only way to make a life.

‘How about we start with home?’

[thegreatimpersonator]

well since y’all asked

everything will be below the cut so people can just ignore this lol

the wild thing is like... everything everyone was saying from both sides makes sense. the good and the bad. i’ll start off with a pro and cons and then do a short track by track

pros:

i agree with what people are saying about how well this style suits her voice, it perfect. it’s smooth and calming but also doesnt stick her in a box and will allow her to kinda move with it and change things up as she sings, which i know she loves to do.

the production is exactly her too. it’s r&b beats with classic strings... liek that’s completely ariana grande. it’s so interesting and it weirdly works well? 

i feel like you can tell she was just in her element making these songs. i feel like she tapped into something that can be so endless for her and new ideas will be constant.

idk if it’s just me adjusting to hearing her sing but her pronunciation is getting a lot better

every song has at least one good and attractive part to it... there are no songs that i am so completely confused as to why it’s on the album.

it’s for sure my favorite era for her in terms of style

also her best album cover (but sweeter is close second) 

cons:

okay... there is a pattern with this album. every song had a really solid start. so many times i was in love with the verses and the melodies she was singing but... my god are the choruses weak. it’s just one line... repeated... like 4 times... then we move on... and i was sitting here like ‘oh that’s what we were building up to?’ and it happened with every song. so i completely agree about it kind of falling flat most of the time.

it’s so repetitive. besides the choruses mostly all being weak, the themes are all the same. like the 14 songs on the album are all about two things: her being horny or her being in love. that’s it. why did we need 14 songs to tell us two things.

another point: why were there 14 songs? so many filler tracks that just add nothing to the album for me. she could’ve honestly made a solid 10 track album and it would’ve been a good clean piece of work. 

the lyrics... oh my god the lyrics. the one thing i saw people saying, both fans of the album and not, was that the lyrics were really bad... liek they had to prepare people. and my god. there were some points that straight up sounded like 14 year old stan accounts arguing on twitter... ‘you sound dumb... shut up’ SHE USED THAT LYRIC AS A HOOK... she thought it was so good it deserved to be the hook like? and also there’s a lyric that just straight up says ‘read a fucking book’ lol. the good or tolerable lyrics are basically ones she already used before on other songs? like how many time's has this woman sung about fucking while watching movies... 

she needs to stop putting out albums so frequently. a lot of the complaints i see people having is just that it doesnt feel finished or polished enough to be an album. like she should have waiting a few months and refined things. it feels like a stepping stone rather than a destination. she doesnt have a clear vision, narrative or purpose driving the album at all. 

track by track

shut up: this was the first taste of bad lyrics like this is the song about being dumb and i fully was like omfg this is the whole song isnt it. i dig the production though.. this might have the best production of the whole album for me. 

34+35: i felt like i was listening to a horny 13 year old boy during the chorus lol. it just felt really immature at some points... like the giggling every time she alluded to 69 wasnt necessary. also the end where she says ‘mean i wanna 69 with ya’..... sweetie you didnt have to tell us we know we can add. i did like the melody of the pre-chorus. the ‘i’ve been drinkin coffee, i’ve been eatin healthy’ is really catchy and good

motive: god i had such high hopes for this. it first started and i loved the production and the prechorus worked really well... but again that chorus weakness really fucked it. and doja’s part doesnt really fit the song for me? it feels out of place and like she should’ve been put on a more upbeat song

just like magic: first song i actually liked and added to my library! i finally heard a good chorus that didnt feel like it completely slowed down the momentum of the song and helped move it along. and the lyrics are cute. i think for me she needs to improve on the difference between a cute lyric and a cringy lyric... like cute: ‘middle finger to my thumb and then I snap it’ and cringy: the rest of the album. also one thing there’s a lyric about her listening to music she wrote and like girl you had 34 writers on this album... what are you listening to two words? every time she brags about writing it’s kinda embarrassing like.... at no point am i impressed

off the table: this production would have been so good.... if it actually did anything else or went anywhere. it stayed the same the entire time.... for 4 minutes. also stop letting men on women’s music because it seriously never works. her vocals are really pretty though.

six thirty: i really like her vocal delivery in this... like kinda dropping off at the end and just starting to talk? it’s interesting. also the chorus really had potential because it actually got bigger and more layered and interesting but again with the one lyric ‘are you down’ repeated like 3 times then the chorus is just over it’s like... oh okay

safety net: again amazing verse delivery and melody... IF SHE TOOK IT ANYWHERE it would have been great. and again with the male features... not necessary. the bridge is cool with them both singing but other than that it feel flat for me. 

my hair: that smooth electric guitar intro is everything. and this sound of this song is so good.... but.... am i the only person who kinda feels weird about ariana, a white girl, being like ‘you can run your hands through me hair... dont be scared’ like?? why would they be scared... your hair is straight lol. it just toys with the whole idea of ‘don’t touch a black women’s hair’ for me. idk it could totally be a me overanalyzing thing. but god is she sang about anything else this would be my favorite song. second song i added to my library.  

nasty: if i had to pick one song that was my exact expectations for this album before listening to it it would be this one. the electronic hip-hop beat with the harmonies and vocals, all paired together for a song about her being horny (again), like yeah this all fits. it feels lost in some places though. like some points i feel like i have no idea what part for the song we’re on or what’s happening and we’re just treading water. and another weak chorus with 1 lyric repeated over and over again. (also random side not that intro of her talking reminded me of when she gave that billboard interview and people were mad at her bc she starting talking with an accent even though shes white... like thats what i thought of i was like ma’am you are a rich white theater kid form florida you do not speak like that)

west side: the production in the beginning is so cool? where is sounds like a tape rewinding kinda? love that. but other than that like... no point to this song being included on the album... it’s 2 minutes and it falls flat pretty early on.

love language: this was the one i saw most people agreeing was the best one/most hyped. i expected to be a ballad but it’s one of the more upbeat ones and honestly thank god. a chorus that actually has structure and goes somewhere? wild. good and creative lyrics? WILD. anyway the production is great and reintroduces that kinda 70s vibe from motive but in a refreshing way. really good tie in. third song added to the library. 

positions: i honestly didn’t even listen to this when it came out so i really had no idea what to expect. again the strings and orchestral pairs so well together... one of my favorite instrumentals on the whole album. i 100% see why this was the lead single and i agree with it completely. the most catchy chorus and it moves the song forward WHAT A CONCEPT. also very good placement on the tracklist because it was really refreshing. at this point it kinda started to drag on a little but this picked it right up. it also kinda threw me completely off balance because i was so familiar with the pattern of good verse weak chorus good verse weak chorus, but this is the opposite? weak verses but amazing chorus. forth song added to library.  also i am genuinely curious why it’s the album title? it doesnt really fit the theme of the album but then again one of my complaints is that it doesnt really have a theme to begin with so... 

obvious: the imagery i got when the music came in was like a dark 80′s lounge with dark wood furniture and i loved it lol. the same thing with positions, a surprising and refreshing combo of weak verse but good chorus which was nice. i can see it easily getting me stuck in my head, especially that hook. fifth song added to my library. 

pov: this is the other song off the album i heard everyone generally loved. i would say this has the best theme and story of the entire album. it has an interesting concept that isnt overly used and the whole song is pretty good decent verse and decent chorus. i love the end where she gets powerful and has more grit in her voice and we get more emotion out of her... wish she didnt wait until the last 30 seconds of the whole album to finally deliver with that but sure. sixth song to be added to the library. 

overall i was pretty surprised at how much i enjoyed it? i really expected not to the way everyone was talking about it. i think it is a good album with just some clear flaws, that could have been easily fixed if she didnt rush the album out so quickly. better lyrics and better judgement/deliberation of which songs deserve to be on the album and it would have been so solid. i would give it an overall rating of 6/10. 

here’s my current ranking:

[doctorguilty]

omg i forgot to talk about the full contact haunted house!!! omg ok ok 

subtly horny on main im Sorry 

omg ok it started with like. a non-contact section as like, a warmup, but even that was more involved than I expected!! more than the regular haunted house I went to and ones I remember in the past! all the actors were like. so into their characters and looked like they were havin so much fun and like i said last time.. i’m a very perfect Participant cause I get genuinely scared and I also get immersed in the whole like, roleplay immediately and respond like,timidly and stuff and they are just SO entertained by that! 

so it started with a corn maze thing and right away there’s these like monster girls spooking me and stuff but omg there was this scarecrow guy like. who was RIDICULOUSLY hot,,, with like FANGS and shit... who separated me from bog and made me get down and crawl through the maze into a dead end and like, omg i was like literally getting scratched up by whatever it was around me doing that!! and dirty and leaves all over my clothes n shit! and i was backed up on the ground and the scarecrow dude was like looming over me and threatening me or whatever and he gets like really close to my face and says like “I bet you’re in this position a lot” and im like JKDSAHKSAFHDSKGDFS wowo fucking DIE s !!!!!!!!

and then eventually i get chased out to the end and there’s like this, crucifix, and the girls tell me to get up and stand on the platform and put my arms on my cross , and I do, and they started laughing and rocking it back and forth as i held on like holy shit thats the NON contact part omfg!! 

then the contact part had different thremes like one of the early ones was a clown that smeared fake blood on my face and made me and bog crawl into a box and shut us in and like hit the box with a bat and shit ajdhkdf!!! and there was other themed rooms like, clowns, a butcher/cannibal theme one, there was one that was like! a doll room with doll parts everywhere and this lady actor held out hands and played ring around the rosie of course ending with like WE ALL DIE!! like ,, ass that was cute!! and she pushed me around laughing and called me a puppet like wow , you own me tbh 

a lot of it was getting pushed and shoved and people getting close to my face and wiping blood on it or saying threats in my ear but it was like super cool how everyone had a story like it wasnt just, walking through quickly like there were rooms you completely stop as a character goes through their narrative with you like there was, admittedly Problematique but you know how it is, like a Crazy Person in hospital gown but I really really liked her roleplay objectively like she had a cute/spooky story, like listen im mentally ill and ive been to the ward i have rights, but anyway she leads us to her friend who was supposed to be a little girl (like not played by a little girl)but shes like, violently wants to be friends like hugs me and then like snaps immediately and shoves me back like omg i honestly wish i could go through a second time for the Stories 

OH and at one point i got shut in a coffin that was cool omg!!!! 

omg but the best part. like i cant stop thinking about it. this burly lumberjack guy grabs me and shoves me against the wall outside the next little house to go in, and he says “you like that don’t you”  and i just fjsdfksdg instinctively responded “maybe” like really sheepishly, and the like hillbilly friends laugh and shove me into the next place and I was alone at this point and I hear one of them shout “she likes it slim!” which i guess is a codeword,,, because. im in almost pitch darkness and i can barely make out like, part of the clothes of some big guy in the room, and he grabs me and throws me, and i mean THROWS me, into the wall full force like rocking the planks of the wall with a big bang,  and im so stunned i just stand there and he grabs me again, drags me forward and throw me into another wall, full force no hesitation, it happened like. almost 10 times or something?!?? i cant even see where the walls are. its just darkness and my back hits it... i didnt even scream or nothing i just like yelped when i git the wall but i was otherwise quiet i was like,,,, just in some wild mental state.. until finally he threw me towards the next hallway and at that point i like toppled over onto the ground and like, shambled back up and through the door .... 

i dont even know how to fully explain it but. i cannot overstate how much i enjoyed the fact that happened... like you know how i complain how everyone thinks im weak and fragile, like, emotionally, and physically? everyones scared to touch me, scared i’ll just shatter or something, i am only 117 pounds and not super tall or big i guess.. and i look young and i guess innocent....... no matter how much i tell people i like KNOW that i like roughhousing they hesitate and go easy on me and i hate it so much .. like i know im sore all the time from having a shitty body prone to joint pain or whatever but my pain tolerance for just like, getting roughed up is so high??? so im just like. this dude. bless him. he sees me, a little twink looking mf (though also afab which was everyones impression of me which is also like! relevant to the whole deal with my alleged fragility) walk in and doesnt think nothing of it. he just fucking throws me like a ragdoll over and over  ......like, thats what i payed for thats what i wanted, FULL CONTACT and i wasnt shirked out of that for being small!! because thats what usually happens! everywhere! i wish i coulda thanked him personally like i hope wherever he is he knows i appreciated him sm.... weird sadist man in the dark .. you’re my hero 

HWAHH thats like! the long and short of it though, i came out covered in fake blood and. in total bliss like!! that was probably one of the most incredible experiences of my life, i dont know where else you can go and just. pay to get beat up by actors roleplaying monsters and shit.... im honestly sad i have to wait another year to go back ...... im so glad i did it though, and tbh it was WAY less jumpscares than other things because i imagine the point is more the roleplaying!! which im so like into!!!! 

omg and like. my legs have bruises on them and one of them has a DEEP purple sizeable bruise that like, dully hurts still . and im just. ecstatic about it, nobody was too scared to hurt me ... /w\ finally i feel.. so respected !!  

[brinytrolls]

🔥🔥

Send me a “ 🔥 “ for an unpopular opinion.

point one:

art styles aren’t unique or copyrightable and people need to stop being so precious about people’s styles looking similar to theirs 

you cant steal an art style! art styles are just a big mishmash of other art styles! 

this odd culture of being afraid of stealing art styles stagnates peoples arts and makes people scared to develop their own style and thats Wrong and ppl shouldnt be worried about that 

second point, kind of jumping off a point of @sleepytrolls‘ bc i agree a lot: 

exploring darker themes is not an automatically problematic or awful thing to do! dark themes can be fun to rp and work with, and people need to stop stepping around this odd perception that writing dark themes mean you support it

so long as you ensure the actions aren’t glorified, and painted in a bad light, it’s ok to have shitty situations and shitty characters! esp considering alternia as a setting is a shitty place! 

muse does not equal mun, and people can write about things without doing those things irl. horror is a popular genre for a reason, ppl enjoy reading abt fucked up shit!! its fiction! 

[before anyone comes for me-i understand fiction affects reality. i understand there are limits and things should be tagged appropriately, but imo theres no harm in exploring dark themes so long as you dont condone them ooc and ensure they arent glorified.]

[kmelanin]

addicted (vkook)  | 01

↦ PAIRING- taehyung x jungkook (aka vkook) ↦ WORD COUNT- 2.6k ↦ GENRE- vkook au, bad boy au, college au, slight smut and angst ↦ WARNINGS- this is homosexual shit, ya dont like, dont read. ↦ SUMMARY- Jungkook follows one of his good friends to a party and falls into Taehyung, drunk. ↦A/N- you guys might not read because I write for the colored ladies, but I am so in love with these ships, holy fuck. I hope you guys enjoy!

Two years ago, Kim Taehyung moved into town. He specifically picked a house close on campus of the town's University. He soon realized how expensive it was to own such a huge house near campus. So he offered to rent it out as a fraternity house, not to big. He had five other rooms open with three other bathrooms. The home also consisted of three different floors, first was the kitchen and living areas, with a bathroom, the second was all of the bedrooms and other bathrooms. And the third was actually the basement, mainly for video games and extra living space. Within two months, he got the perfect roommates. Five others, which they all even eachother out. Some a little messy and the others clean. They all loved to party as well, which ended up helping him choose the people. They all soon become known for having the best parties around, and also because they happen so often. Can't forget that they are practically gods.

Now, It was the fives last year in Uni and Taehyung told them he was going to make it the best for them, party wise. Whatever Taehyung says is going to happen, it will happen they all learned. Tonight was the last party of the summer. They all know that they are going to regret it, because they had classes the next day, but Taehyung didn't care and of course the five was going to party anyways.

Taehyung watches as Jin cuts up a bunch of different fruits and watches as Namjoon pours different juices and alcohols into a tub for Jungle Juice. He looks over to Hoseok and Yoongi picking songs for a playlist, and Jimin was setting the speaker system up. He smiled at his roommates, his more so brothers. They have all lived almost 4 years together, and he might let them stay even after college, if they wanted, or he might kick them out and restart the frat theme.

“Alright, last party of the summer. Don't party too hard, you kids got school in the morning.” he smirks, and smirks harder when he hears them all groan, not wanting him to remind them.

____

“Remind me again why I'm coming with you?”Jungkook looked into Bams body mirror making sure he looked decent. He looked over at BamBam spraying some hairspray into his red hair.

“You promised me that you would come to five parties of my choice this summer and this is the last one.” He says in a duh tone, wiping his pinky on the bottom of his eye.

“But we both literally have classes tomorrow morning.”Jungkook sighs thinking about missing his alarm the next morning. He could’ve been in bed right now counting sheep.

“Oh shush, just add this to your college memories. You are only in your third year. Have fun.”Bam says walking towards the shoes he picked out and put them on. Once he was done getting ready, Jungkook gets the text that their uber was outside.

When they pull up to the address, just down the street from the location of the party. They both get out and start walking in the direction.

“I'm actually meeting someone here. His name is Jackson.” Bam admits as they both walk.

“Jackson? Are you guys drinking together or something.” He asks looking down at his feet, the black boots treading down the sidewalk.

“Jungkook, I'm seeing him.” He nudges Jungkook with his elbow.

“What? Oh.” He felt his cheeks burn and he knows that they were bright red. “I didn't know you liked di-”

“Please don't.” he laughs a little, sounded more like a nervous laugh. “I didn't know either, but he is like different I guess. If this doesn't work out then pussy forever.” Bam laughs harder, making Jungkook crack a smile.

“By the way, it's at the BT Frat House.” Bam says, and as soon as Jungkook hears him, the big dark wooden house comes to view. He doesn't reply back, only because Bam already knows how Kook feels about this. He knows that everyone who lives here, are bad news. Everyone that has ever had a encounter with them, aka sexual encounters, always ends badly, broken heart bad. It makes it worse when they all don't have a preference. Meaning they like it all, from the boys to the girls. And that's how people fall for them, they are such humble people, it's just they they don't want to date anyone, and everyone wants to date them. From Jungkook's knowledge no one has tried to make the move on Taehyung. The owner. It was like the only condition with everyone always coming to their house. That makes Jungkook extremely nervous. He had heard that his hair was long and silver now. Not helping his tattoos. That's just what he heard from some girls. He has never actually seen him before.

They make it to the front door, and Bam looks down at his phone.

“Hey, Jackson is waiting for me, so I'm sorry but i'm leaving you.” Bam says making a upset face to Jungkook. Kooks face falls at the news. But he wasn't surprised. BamBam always does this to him, and he doesn't know why he goes with him anyways.

“Yea, whatever. We can meet at my dorm tomorrow after our classes and talk about whatever happens.”

“Thank you! Trust me, I think he is the one.” Bam pulls Kook into a hug and quickly rushes inside. Before Jungkook walks in, he takes a deep breath and tells himself. ‘After this, never agree to anything with Bam.’ After he gives himself a little pep talk, he shakes himself off and makes his way inside.

He has been to parties before, but none of them were like this. As he walked inside, he almost had to push his way through. People were almost completely touching each other, with very little walking room.

He knows that if he wants to even say hi to anyone he needs a little bit of something in his body. He walks to the kitchen and find a taller man, with fluffy brown hair and thick lips. He was leaning against  the kitchens island and talking to two girls. He was surrounded by tons of bottles of alcohol. His head turns when he notices the younger boy standing there.

“Hey, did you want a drink?” he asks, making the two girls turn and look at him. Jungkook just nods his head, not sure how to feel with the sudden attention. The older boy leans up and grabs a red solo cup. He mixes about three different alcohols, then grabs the big spoon and pours some of the liquid from the tub. He hands it to Jungkook and he quickly grabs it. Everyone was still looking at him, and assuming they were waiting for him to try it, he brings it up to his mouth and takes a drink. When he realized how strong it was, but how smooth it went down, he drinks so more.

Suddenly the girls and the older man starts clapping and smiling making Jungkook's cheeks burn. When he sets the cup down, the older one hold his hands out and Kook takes it.

“I'm Jin, whats up? Enjoying yourself?” He asks. He was one of the roommates of this frat house. That makes him a little nervous, he doesn't want to look dumb in front of them, they wouldn't let him live down from it.

“I'm Jungkook, and other then my friend leaving me as soon as we get here.” He scoffs.

“Ha, make some new friends here, there are plenty of people” He says loudly, kind of startling him.

“Yah, don't scare the guest with your loudness.” Another man emerges from the wall of people. He looked a lot tanner, and his hair was a soft brown, around the same height. He looks over to Jungkook and smiles.

“Namjoon.” he says raising his hand a little.

“Oh please. Jungkook doesn't care.” Jin says laughing. Namjoon laughs softly grabbing the cup out of Jins hand and drinks from it, making Jin instantly stop laughing. Jungkook felt like he should probably leave now, so he grabs his cup says bye and walks back into the crowd. He walks around and sips his drink, getting the vibe of the place. The rooms were all lit up by flashing  lights. Music was bouncing off of the walls.

Soon enough when Jungkook tried to drink his drink, fruit hits him instead, and he realizes that his drink was gone. He puts his cup down and look around. His eyes move a lot slower than expected, and he wants to know what Jin put in his cup. It was clearly a lot stronger than he thought if only a cup of it gotten him drunk. His eyes felt extremely heavy. He wanted to find Bambam and tell him that he wanted to go home.

He makes his way into the main living space, which was attached to a dining room. He suddenly spots a spot on a couch, and it hits him at how dizzy he is. He slowly makes his way towards the couch, he pushes his way through everyone, almost needing to sit down.

Jungkook stumbles, moving to fast. He starts to fall, but he fell into a pair of arms. He grabs onto the persons arms, needing to steady himself.

“I'm sorry, I just need to s-sit down.” He says looking up at the person holding onto him. Jungkook's breath was stuck in his throat, when he sees piercing eyes looking back down at him. He notices a lip ring on the guys left side. His eyes trail down to the other guys neck, covered in tattoos that he could make out. Same with his arms, being shown from his black t-shirt. His hair kind of covers his eyes a little, but still showing his eyes a little. He reminds him a little of the description of Kim Taehyung.

And it was like it hit him all at once. His eyes go back up to his face slowly and the older boy raises his brows. Jungkook's heart was beating out of his chest. ‘Oh fuck, Oh fuck. I'm totally going to get beat up.’ He thinks to himself. At that instant his hands leave his arms and he backs away.

“I'm sorry.” Jungkook quickly blurts out again and instead of going to the couch he just heads for the door.

Taehyung was highly confused as he watched the younger drunk and in his arms. The first thing he questions was why was he so beautiful. It was like his time was frozen when he was in his arms. But when he suddenly just left, his eyes couldn't pull away from him. He follows his body that goes outside with his eyes.  He starts to physically follow. He just needs to know his name, and he needs to know what his lips felt like.

Once he is outside, his eyes train on a figure crouched out on the side of the road. He walks over to him, with one thought on his mind, his lips.

“Hey.” he says softly, and he nudges the younger boy with his hand, when he sits down next to him. The younger boys head snaps to his and his eyes widen, his drunkenness makes him fall over, making him blush. Taehyung laughs a little, which was weird for him. Only because he laughed at how cute he was being. He felt a little off.

“What is your name?” He asks, his curiosity was getting to him.

“J-jungkook.” he says once he was sitting down correctly. “Look, I realized that you are Taehyung, ya know owner of this house. I also know of your rule for your house, and I'm sorry for earlier. Sorryy.” Jungkook's mouth rambles off and all  Taehyung could do was smile a little.

“It's okay, you just owe me.” Taehyung whispers and scootches closer to Jungkook making him confused.

“Oh, of course. I just don't want to be on your bad side.” Jungkook shys. He was only now realizing how intimidating Taehyung was. Taehyung almost hid the view of his house from Jungkook. Jungkook also had no tattoos, and only a couple of ear piercings.

“I just don't want you to drunk to give it to me, i want you to remember.” Taehyung explains. He could take his eyes off of Jungkook. He wanted him, and he will have him sooner or later. But for now…

“No, I always remember the day after, I also don't normally get hangovers.” Jungkook quickly explains. He would die if he had to wait for what he had to say. His heart was going crazy and so was his mind. “But I can tell you that I am drunk. So i will be more willing to give you whatever you want.” Jungkook giggles to himself. “If it's money, you will have to wait until ne-” Taehyung cuts him off buy grabbing his face with one of his hands making him fall into his lap a little with a startled facial expression.

“Calm down cuteness, all I need is those lips on mine.” Taehyung hums into Jungkook's ear, making the younger one gulp in nervousness. Taehyung pulls up a little, away from your ear, and he looks at Jungkook's lips with hunger in his eyes. Taehyung felt like he was going to go crazy if Jungkook denies him right now. He never wanted to kiss someone so bad.

“Yea, we might want to do that now while there is still alcohol in my body.”Jungkook speaks out quietly. Taehyung felt his stomach jump when he heard those words. He watches as Jungkook closes his eyes, waiting. Taehyung doesn't make him wait long, because he jumps to it, crashing his lip against his. Taehyung wasn't expecting for Jungkook's lips to taste like some type of chapstick. When he felt his lips kiss him back, his other hand instantly pops into Jungkook's hair, pushing him harder against his lips. Taehyung felt as if he found the best strain of weed ever, he felt as if he just gotten a new tattoo, he felt as if he was eating his favorite food. He felt addicted. Jungkook's whole body was tingling let alone his lips. Every kiss that Taehyung gives him, his body feels more and more numb. It got to the point where Jungkook couldn't handle it anymore and he lets out a little moan against his lips. That didn't help Taehyung at all, if anything that made him want to hear that more, and louder. He trails his lips down his neck, leaving splotches of bruises all over. He gets a little more moans, and groans. But he had to remember he was outside. He pulls away from Jungkook's addicting lips, he breathes hard needing to catch his breath.

“Mhmm, that was more than a kiss Kim Taehyung. Now you owe me.”Jungkook says sleepily. Taehyung literally sucked all of the energy out of him. He needs a bed.

“Don't act like you didn't love it.” Taehyung groans into Jungkook's ear. Jungkook's head was resting in his neck.

“Like I said, you owe me. Do you have a extra bed? I don't feel like going home.” Taehyung freezes at that.

“I only have my bed.” Taehyung says kissing Jungkook's cheek. He just couldn't help it.

“Hmm, that's fine. I promise i'll leave before you wake.” Jungkook was half sleep on Taehyung's lap. Taehyung doesn't say anything, he just gets up and brings him inside.

[veratnetherstriker]

A little appreciation and criticism about the Scps

Im a huge fan of the SCP fundation and all the people who made them, i just love the way they are writen and the originalaty behind such ideas, but lets be honest, no one is perfect. Soo, im just going to do a little recopilation of a few of the most popular Scps of all time and the reasons why i like them and how i think they could (if they should) improve. This will be just my personal opinion, and in any way it should be taken as the one true of the universe(like i said, no one is perfect). Plus, my main lenguage isnt the english but i know that this way this will reach to more people, soo sorry for all the gramatical errors from the starts. 

That said, lets dive in this terrorific, yet beatifull, world: 

Who else should start this list right? Good old ‘’fetus statue’’ (name copyrighted by my ex) is a classic at this time, the one that started all, the first the most of us saw for the first time, and the one that make the bases for what was to come. And is a pretry good start. 173, a creepy af statue that dost move until nobody is watching him, but when he do, someones dies. An idea soo good that im really surprise nobody in hollywood ripped off yet. An amazing example of creativity and creepynes alike, the only fault i could find him is the way right now he is everywhere and, kind of slendy in the past, that ruin part of the charm of a creepy internet story. But that is not his fault, and more something that is destined to happen with all popular monsters. We love you fucking 173, never change you fucking weirdo.

9/10

106, AKA radical larry for the pals. Tell my if this asshole never give you chills in any of the games?? His capacity of rust everything (even your body)  and his inhuman, sadistic motives of ‘’prey humans for fun’’ make him the closest SCP has ever get to a hollywood horror movie creation, but even for that standar he is particullary creepy and original, both in how to kill you (the first time in the pocket dimension in CB is a wonderfull yet terrible experience) and why to kill you. Because he is an asshole, that is why he is going to kill you. Good luck asuming that. 

8/10

The people who are just entering the world of SCP should be very cofunsed right now. ‘’A stair? why is a stair an scp?’’. But the people who know this thing, and the things that live in him (her? it?) know why im talking about it (him? her?). The idea of a never ending stair that just get creeepier with every step you make, amazing. And the creatures that lurk in it dont help. That said, i do find him a little limited in the ways this story could scare you. With 106 we have a full fan of posibilities to scare , and with 173 a constant tension, here you have to start decending into the stair(it then) and that do seem a little forced.  

7/10

Aaaaaah 049... you are a miracle that could only happen in the SCP community. Our good doctor could soo easily become a basic self insertion gary stu, both for being humanoid(we all know is a common problem with this tipe of character) and for the edgy  medieval style of clothes, but nope, he is just a weird, disturbing, cool character with original ideas behind like every good scp should be. His only problems (besides every fangirl trying to bang him or taking him as a jeff the killer wannabe) is maybe his unnoriginal result (zombie people are kind of overused nowdays) but still his fight against ‘’the disase’’ together with his misterius and cool aparence make a good example of how to make a good humanoid scp.

7/10

...and for the exact contrary we have this idiot. Cool blades made of darkness, demonic tatoos, an unstopable capacity for killing even when he has no reason to have that inhuman strengh, forced religious context just for the sake of cool. My god, i know this may offend some fans but this guy is bad guys. I mean, really bad. He has no build up, no fear or paranormal factor beside the ‘’im soo cool they have to make me an scp’’ and the blades things (wich falls in the ‘’cool’’ stuff too). And yet he is one of the ‘’fanarted’’ (copyrighted by my this time) Scps ever. Why? Well for the same reason jeff the killer ended with most popularaty than slenderman even when Slendy is far better as a character and story. Because he is hot, easily identificable as an self insert fantasy for the edgy boys back in the 2000s, has a looooot of ‘’cool’’ stuff that atract fanboys(and girls) and soo darn cool isnt he?

Put him in line with the others until now and the ones to come and tell me if you dont give everyone else a cool yet creepy horror music, and then give this asshole a linkin park theme. He is that bad. (I love LP btw but you understand)

Im not saying that humanoid SCPs are bad per se(see 049 above), but Able is the perfect example of how you NOT make one. You dont give him like 5 superpowers together at once. You dont make him look like a generic antihero from a shonnen. You dont make him have ‘’cool’’ stuff just for the sake of him being cool. The only reasons why he is here is for : A- serve as a  good example of how to NOT make humanoids scps, B-  comparing to good humanods scps despise his fame, and C- give some credit to the person that change him. Yes, he used to be worse, and someone(not sure if was the original author) rewrite him to be more a ‘’xmen that got mad’’ and less a ‘’Generic Sasuke Uchiha who is soo cool they had to cointan him.’’ D- I have to show at least 1 bad Scp. 

3/10 (and just for the rewrite)

We pass from a character boring as a machine to a litteral machine far more interesting. 079 is the perfect scp objetivly speaking for me. He have all the things wich make scp fundation works. He is disturbing, yet sad. He is a monster, yet has some form of humanity that make us feel sorry for him, yet fear him notheless. We want him to get free but we fear what he could do being free. We know he isnt human yet we identify with him somehow(good identification, not Able tipy identification). Complex, well writen and good background, 079 could not be one of the most popular, yet he is perfect as an scp. The idea is disturbing and its done wonderfully. Also, he is the closest we get to a villain in CB, and is extraordinary good at that. This CPU, is an awesome SCP.

10/10

But not every SCP has to be disturbing in all his existence, there can be scps that are not scary in theory but still interesting a good writing. Our little reptile lover loli killing machine here its a good example of it. Much like 079, he is a good example of an scp that we want to get free, and we are sorry for her, but we know that is better this way (to an extreme). 053, the little girl, a young child who can (and will) kill you without even notice, but dont do it of evil, sadism, need or as a medium for an end, just because that is her nature and she cant do anything about it. You know is bad when a monster like 682 feel sorry for her. Maybe his only faults are the desing , wich is kind of generic, but its ok to have a normal human once in a while for me. Very good scp.

8/10

And speaking of the devil, to end the list we have the hard to destroy reptile himself, 682. I always love villains like nuraryhion from Gantz, beings that could adapt to anything and eevolve in an instant to adapt to the situation, soo 682 inmediatly become one (if not the one) of my favorites. His abilitys and the danger he represents are just amazing and well writien and is one of the most developed SCPS thanks to all the trys to kill him. His interactions with 079 and 053 are one of the best, and his fights with 173 and 096(kind of forget of him for this list, maybe in an hipotetical next?) are very interestings, not to mention all the reactions to others scps. His rol in CB also give him points, being the one that cause most of the destruction in the fundation and the principal reason why the nuclear warhead are lauched. I would watch the hell out of a series with him as a villain, thank you very much. 

9/10

Scps are wonderfull when done well, and i think that i show a lot good examples of this. It isnt my idea to hurt anyone feelings, just express myself in a little critisism and appreciation, and i really hope this help someone who write or is considering to write one. And like its obvius, this is just my personal opinion. This monsters are more than just generics creepypastas, they are something else completly and should be trated like that. I strongly recomend the series ‘’Sedition’’ made by tasstops or the ‘’Confinement’’ animated series made by Lord Bung if you want to see more of them and see for yourself what i meant, both awesome works make by awesome artists. 

Hope you all enjoyed, and wait for your criticism about my criticism

[lemoni-joon]

So... I had a dream...

A few nights ago i had the angstiest angstfic-esque jikook dream ever, complete with a plot twist and a cliffhangy and its just been playing in my head ever since so i just had to like scream about it somewhere.

So it starts with me seeing the world through jk's pov lol. BTS were attending an award show, and idk if at the time jikook had already come out as dating or something i have no idea but they were being loud as fuck. I remember seeing how (coz i saw this through jk's pov right) jimin was always beside me through out the whole red carpet event, and we always pulled each other close or angled our bodies towards each other as reporters took photos.

And everyone was acting normal about it too, as though it was something people had already anticipated/seen/accepted as normal. Like there was hype, and the reporters were having a field day with their cameras but it was and nothing out of the ordinary. Even the other BTS members (read: joon, hobi and jin coz istg they're simultaneously jikook's biggest cockblocks, thirdwheels, and antis who always make them seem even more obvious) were just smiling at jikook fondly and just went with their whole clingy boyfriend theme, moving around during group photos to acommodate the sticky duo.

The whole time i (jk ;v;) had my arm around jimin's waist and jimin kept stealing glances at me and smiling and my heart kept fluttering. And i (JK!!!) remember thinking jimin was really stunning, and how happy and excited i felt to be able to be with him freely like that in front of so many people and not give a damn! :') And i also distinctly remember the urge to just bend down a little and kiss jimin on his lips and cheeks and temples on sooo many occasions because we were always standing so close together and he was just so pretty (im screaming because this was all jk's thought process through and through, and i was just there living it like fUCK IM SO FUCKING SOFT FOR THIS SHIT).

And then it cuts to us being in the arena and enjoying all the performances, just having fun together. We kept hearing fans shout jikook/kookmin which made us all happy and smiley and giggly together.

And then it cuts to BTS getting ready to perform. This time i was seeing things from an outsider's pov and not through jk's eyes anymore. Supposedly, the intro of the performance involved jk being suspended very high up in the air while the others were stationed below the stage getting ready to go up.

So yeah they were pulling jk higher and higher up, and then they stopped when he was high enough and jk was settling into his intro pose. One moment its all beautiful and loud and shining lights and bright army bombs blinking in the dark background of the arena, and then the next moment i see jk falling from where he was suspended midair and my ears were ringing. And then the fans were screaming and jimin was running up to the stage, and jk wasnt moving. He just lay there crumpled on the stage floor and jimin was trying to check on him but was too afraid that he would worsen any injury by touching him incorrectly.

And i remember thinking please God dont let their be any stupid insensitive fans screaming because they saw the 'jikook moment' instead of screaming out of worry for jk lol.

But anyways, and then i see namjoon running up onto the stage, picking jk up carefully and then bringing him down to where the paramedics just came out from backstage. I can still picture joon's pale and sweaty face as he was coming down the stage steps with jk in his arms.

They went through the back exit of the event and jimin ran after them.

And then it cuts to me sitting in this white room and i see jimin walking in through the door with his hand harshly going through his hair. He looked pale and worried sick but also trying to stay strong. And then i called him over and gently pulled him into the seat next to mine and asked him if he was okay.

And then his eyes started glistening and he told me how scared he was, how scared he still is and then he crumpled into my lap and cried.

and then i fUcKING WOKE UP WTF I NEED TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT GODDAMMIT

FuCK and i was just gonna be like oh well one day im gonna forget about this dream anyway so /shrugs/

But then jikook decided to smack us in the face with all this good jikook quality content from all the recent award shows and im just like??? Hello you guys are not letting me get over this???? Ever??? Dammit

[rigginsstreet]

My house mate and I have been watching scary movies leading up to Halloween. So far we've seen The Shining, I Know What You Did Last Summer Carrie and now we just finished Insidious. Insidious was terrifying as was Carrie, especially the part at the very end. Why do you think you enjoy scary movies so much?

theres many answers to this question i dont even know where to start.

i guess going back to when i was little, i was always into spooky shit. i always loved halloween. i would sit for HOURS and watch every single haunting show on the travel channel or anything about cryptids. i was always tried to be scared (but then turning into a bitch when shit got TOO real. like my grandpa used to torment me with his “chucky” voice cuz he knew that goddamn doll scared the shit out of me and my stepbrother went as ghostface for one halloween and that fucking costume was in our closet and i was like... im gonna be murdered. that costume is coming to life and murdering me. mind you, i hadnt even seen scream at that point the costume just scared the absolute fuck out of me. no ones scared of that costume now but like... being a child in the mid-late 90s that shit was horrifying please believe). so anyway theres that element

another thing that i think played a huge part in my love and fascination for the genre was i grew up in like a true crime house lmao my grandma was constantly watching CNN and i grew up hearing about like jon benet and columbine and the menendez brothers and then into the 00s you had like scott peterson. and i just was always so intrigued by the psychology of killers and what led people to commit these acts. and of course i ended up learning about bundy and dahmer and ramirez and gein... and you have these movies that sometimes explore a deeper level of whats going on. sometimes they dont and its just mindless killing. but both were fascinating to me. anything that gets into humanity’s dark side intrigues me. humans are capable of some fucked up shit that no one really likes to acknowledge but you can explore that in horror. like i was really into torture porn for a while until i found my limit lmao but i was always like “i need it to be MORE fucked up!” and then you get shit like the human centipede or a serbian film and youre like you know what? im good 😂 

but even outside of torture porn im just in general always on the hunt for the next good scare. i want to be genuinely terrified when i watch a movie. i want that lingering dread long after its over and its so hard to come by these days. like the first paranormal activity? royally fucked me up and im still to this day feeling its effects. when i tell you i could not sleep the night i saw it.... and for 2 days after i had to keep my lights on.... i want that feeling again

and then theres the artistic standpoint. i used to sit and watch dvd extras of how all the gore effects were made and how sets were put together and that shit still is so fun to me. lowkey theres still a part of me that wants to get into that profession but i have... no talent at all. like you really gotta admire the shit that goes into practical effects. its breathtaking. its literally a bunch of magic tricks i have so much respect for the people that do it tom savini is my hero

horror also brings the family together lol my mom loves them. i remember going to blockbuster with her and always picking out horror movies to watch. we marathoned all the halloween and friday the 13th movies together. we just went and saw the new halloween together. my grandpa used to take me to horror movies when i was younger (i have a fond memory of seeing the hitcher remake and the part where the dude gets snapped in half i CACKLED in the theater and my grandpa was right next to me making an exaggerated noise of disgust like he always does cuz he’s dramatic and likes to play shit up lol wonder where i get it from) he used to tell me i reminded him of drew barrymore in firestarter so... thanks for that grandpa still havent seen that movie but i’ll take it as a compliment. even now with fearfest on amc my grandpas always yelling at me about whats on tv so i can watch. one of my uncles is a slasher fan. one of my cousins who recently passed was a HUGE horror fan. feel like it was kind of inevitable for me to end up here lol

at the end of the day horror is just fun. but i think its also important to note that a lot of people have a misconception about horror. like i still today see people talk about how horror has no meaning and its only with recent films where the genre is starting to get “deep” and thats just... not true. and you can tell these are statements being made by non horror fans whove seen like maybe 3 movies tops. horror has always been used as a storytelling device to reflect the current fears and problems in society. you can take horror movies from different time periods and get a good sense of what was going on, what people were feeling, what the world was going through. i honestly think its the most important genre. you can explore themes in horror that other genres dont necessarily allow, certainly not to the extent horror does. you get a good mix of your schlockfests but then you also have movies that are trying to reflect something back to us. 

horror gets a bad rap. and people like to act like theyre too good for it. youre not. calm down. just enjoy the ride. 

[artisticdagger]

All

CrACKS KNUCKLES

Alright boys. Time to feel some Halloween finally tonight.

Boogeyman: what’s your weirdest/most irrational fear?

I. am so fucking terrified of Balloons. I love them but i never want one near me or within my field of view. Party Stores are so much fun but i spend the whole time thinking about the balloon blowing station in them

Candy Corn: what’s the best Halloween candy? the worst?

The best are those fucking Jolly Rancher Sticks hands down, the fact you get a plank of hard candy gets me, but I wont say no to any of those small packaged sour patch kids either. Something about them being in small doses that just. Warms my soul. Worst? Tie between Licorice and pretzels for sure. Thats just radiating I Hate Fun. 

Crow: do you believe in omens? which ones?

Yes but more obvious ones. Like a black cat ain’t scaring me off or nothing. But for example. I was driving home from a late night class. My windows were fogged up no matter how much i tried to get them cleared up, meaning it was hazy as hell. It had been pouring rain, so the streets were flooded up, Vultures cover my campus. Merging onto a highway with foggy smeared windshield, reflecting puddles all over the place trying to determine what was headlights and what was reflecting, my fav radio station, which only EVER plays hard alternative music, suddenly started playing this slow, soft, sad song about someone dying in memory of the radio host’s dead dog? And all i could think was that this is how tragic backstories start where the movie flashbacks to how this important person died. Needless to say. I took it real slow going home. 

Exorcist: do you believe in demons?

Oh fuck yeah. Maybe less in a biblical sense, although still stemming from a place of that for sure of like. Evil Entities probably from Darker Dimensions. Probably get confused as Evil Ghosts which i think dont really exist honestly, i think most Evil Ghosts are probably demons here to fuck your shit up. Souless lil fuckers here to be piss babies. 

Ghost: have you ever encountered a spirit or haunted place?

BUDDY. MY OLD HOUSE WAS HAUNTED AS FUCK. And im sure everyone says that but Do I Have Some Stories that include me asking my parents if “The Man Is Gonna Follow Us” when told i was going to go to Disney when i was like five or six. Freaked the shit out of my parents but they kinda already knew the house was haunted cause a lot of just. Freaky shit happened. It was a very old house. 

Haunted: do you like haunted houses (or corn mazes, hayrides, etc.)?  if so, what’s the scariest one you’ve participated in?

UHhhhhh no? I’m. I dont like jumpscares i have Anxiety. and most of those are people you pay to just jumpscare you. I did enjoy a few Haunted Hayrides back when i was Very Little but only the parts where people didnt come out of the forest to chase the ride with chainsaws. 

Mothman: do you know of any local urban legends, or is there an urban legend that really freaks you out?

I am not really freaked out by them but i think it’s cause the only Urban Legend that is local is the Jersey Devil? And I dont know why people are scared of him? Because he only attacks people who have a Blackened Heart? So he’s like… a good guy? The only reason you have to be scared of him is if YOU are a bad guy?

Mystery: what’s the strangest unsolved mystery that you’ve heard of?

oh shit uhhh. Strangest? God I dunno. Roswell. Maybe not the strangest but i think it’s just fucking WILD that like…. FBI people themselves have come forward to say shit about it. 

Scream: favourite horror film?

HM. horror films don’t really do it for me. I’ve watched so goddamn many. I once watched the entirety of the Saw Franchise, all like, what, 8 movies? In three days? My favorites have to be The Strangers films. Hits close to home of my weird fear of being broken into. Also my younger mind remembers watching Girl ON The Train and loving it but i’d have to rewatch it again tbh. It’s got some dark ass themes though, i do remember, so be careful if you ever check it out. 

Spell: do you believe in magic, or any sort of otherworldly powers?

Mmmmm. I dunno. Yes? I think? I believe there are people out there with them for sure but i also believe in the power of human brains and belief to just be that fuckin weird sometimes. 

Trick or Treat: do you have any plans for Halloween this year?

It fell on a wednesday when i dont have classes so i couldnt dress up to go to class. Im Too Old to go out trick or treating. I have no friends and therefore No Parties. I went out to brunch and had a therapy sessions today. Press F.

UFO: do you believe in aliens, and do you think they visit Earth?

YES. YES I DO. ONE HUNDRED AND TEN PERCENT. 

Werewolf: what cryptid or monster do you think could actually exist?

Yes.

Witches: are you going to dress up this year? if yes, as what?

I went to a lil costume party this past Sunday! I dressed up as a Warlock! Kinda? I dunno! You got discounts for wearing a witch hat at this lil town event thing so i went too ham. I’d post pics but I took None of myself. and all the others have friends who dont want their face Out There. 

[ol-razzle-dazazzle]

1-50 for the ask game and I'm not sorry. ✨

WYV ILY 

ALSO TAGGING MY GF BC IM GAY @perfect-murderer

Under a read more bc long post 

1. Wake her up with kisses lesbian or play with her hair while you wait for her to wake up lesbian- Wake her up (wake her up inside) can’t wake up (wake her up inside) SMOOCH HER

2. X files lesbian or twin peaks lesbian- X-Files, I’ve always been gay for Scully

3. Pit Bull lesbian or corgi lesbian- I’ve never though about this but corgis! they look so happy and small!

4. Sweet tooth lesbian or saturates-everything-in-hot sauce lesbian- I can’t stand spice and I love sweet stuff (like my gf...and lemon candy)

5. Sunflower lesbian or white lily lesbian- As much as I love lily gay symbolism, sunflowers

6. Rose gold lesbian or white gold lesbian- this hit that ice cold I actually prefer rose gold

7. Dunkin’ donuts/Starbucks lesbian or strictly local cafe lesbian- I’ve never had Dunkin Donuts/Starbucks so cafe!

8. Sunrise lesbian or sunset lesbian- Sunsets, they also tend to be the best time to go crab catching~

9. Emily Dickinson lesbian or maya Angelou lesbian- I THINK EMILY DICKINSON (IS A LESBIAN)

10. Dark sexy ball gown or cute bright ball gown lesbian- depends...if the dark one shows too much skin (I tend to not like showing skin personally) then bright, but I love a dark dress as much as anyone!

11. Strawberry lesbian or watermelon lesbian- Watermelon lesbian all the way, though nutella dipped strawberries...

12. High waisted shorts lesbian or loose rolled up jeans lesbian- Loose jeans...I’m too ‘thicc’ and too short for any jeans to fit me comfortably tbh

13. 60s chic lesbian or 60s hippie lesbian- chic

14. Band lesbian or orchestra lesbian- NO THIS IS SO HARD I MEAN...WELL I DON’T PLAY BRASS SO ORCHESTRA BUT I PLAY TUNE PRECUSSION SO BAND BUT I LOVE BOTH BUT I LOVE BIG BAND STUFF BUT I LOVE ORCHESTRA I’M JUST A MUSIC HOE BLEASE I mean prob band

15. Choir lesbian or garage band lesbian- Garage band, most of the choir girls who’ve I’ve had crushes on turned out to be homophobic :/

16. Twirl her around lesbian or get twirled lesbian- TWIRL HER TWIRL HER TWIRL HER but like, if there’s a dip I’m fuckinG DIPPING BUT I LEAD OKAY EVEN IF I’M TERRIBLE 

17. Sit com lesbian or artsy independent dramatic romance film from France lesbian- I like the ‘gal pal’ sweet lesbians but they’re both paired up with guys sadly (COUGH COUGH PARKS AND REC) so probably dramatic? I’m a drama loving bitch

18. Bicycle lesbian or bus lesbian- Mike on his bike and bus lesbian is wlw mlm solidarity (blease ask me about the legend that is Mike) but yeah sadly bus lesbian, I can’t ride a bike and whenever I do I hum the HGSS bike theme and fall. Trains and ships are better

19. Jelly fish lesbian or dolphin lesbian- Jellyfish!!! BUT CRABS ARE PRIME!

20. Biology lesbian or physics lesbian- Biology lesbian by far, gimme that gay bats and crabs and sexual mitochondriac tension

21. Studio Ghibli lesbian or Cartoon Network lesbian- As much as I love SU and OK KO and whatnot, I gotta go with Ghibli (is there a gay Ghibli movie? blease say)

22. Take the spider outside lesbian or scream at her to take the spider outside lesbian- take the spider outside! I always do that, even if I’m scared

23. Serena Williams lesbian or Ronda Rousey lesbian- Serena...those muscles...those legs...she’s absolutely gorgeous

24. Prismacolor lesbian or faber castell lesbian- Faber Castle always, though I have gotten Prismacolor for birthdays and they’re high quality it always seems too...elite for me

25. “Campers are for the weak” lesbian or “I will die before sleeping on the ground” lesbian- Campers are for the weak, but use a damn sleeping bag and tent yo

26. Calling every female character they see their girlfriend lesbian or “Dana Scully isn’t your girlfriend, I am” lesbian- SCULLY I’M GAY but the latter, I wouldn’t want any character to actually date me they should date each other

27. Roller skate lesbian or ice skate lesbian- when I was a wee bean roller skates but like...I always used to fall. So Ice Skates? No yoi but like it’s cold and cute and lowkey holding my gf so she doesn’t trip more like clinging onto her legs as I do the splits and break all my bones

28. “Christmas carols are dumb and over played” lesbian or belting out all I want for Christmas is you at the top of their lungs lesbian- Dumb and overplayed, I will listen to my gf and join her but like,,,tragic shopaholic mother backstories,,,always, always playing, always there. 

29. Buy her something lesbian or make her something lesbian- depends, I love making things but I have like, no dexterity so probably buy?

30. Cherry mojitos lesbian or cherry flavored vodka lesbian- ...I must betray the rat bois...but mojitos. I hate mint but it’s so fucking ~*fresh*~ (I don’t drink but I’ve made ‘mocktails’)

31. Write her poems lesbian or bake her cookies lesbian- Y’ALL ALREADY KNOW I’M A GAY ASS POET MY MAJOR ENGLISH WORK IS LITERALLY GAY POEMS BASED OFF FLOWERS

32. Tummy kisses lesbian or thigh kisses lesbian- t...thigh kisses....////

33. I’ll fight anyone that makes my girl cry lesbian or I’ll psychologically destroy anyone that makes my girl cry lesbian- Both, nemo impune lassit bitch- Edgar Allen Poe

34. Fall asleep in her arms lesbian or rub her back until she falls asleep in your arms lesbian- rub her back until she falls asleep in your arms

35. Floral pattern lesbian or tie dye lesbian- floral pattern, love those rainbows but plants dude,,,

36. Snake lesbian or frog lesbian- *tries not to make a kanako/suwako reference* Snakes, they blep, as much as I love memes. 

37. Send her memes lesbian or “if you call me the rarest Pepe one more time I swear to god”- SEND HER MEMES SEND HER MEMES I WANT TO NUT (Never leave her Unconditionally love her Treat her right)

38. Star Wars lesbian or lord of the rings lesbian- Star Wars, i’m not hugely into either but star wars

39. Spice girls lesbian or 5th harmony lesbian- no clue,,, but probably 5th harmony?

40. Pink hair lesbian or blue hair lesbian- depends, light cotton candy pink but on someone else blue (gimme that dark or lilac purple any gay tho)

41. Maple syrup lesbian or berry syrup lesbian-Maple syrup slorp slorp slorp

42. Vinyl lesbian or cassette lesbian- Vinyl? 

43. Paris lesbian or Amsterdam lesbian- never been to Amsterdam so probably Amsterdam? 

44. Jazz lesbian or swing lesbian- hHHhHHhHHHhhHhH DONT MAKE ME CHOOSe I LoVE THEM BOTH oKAY????

45. Pin stripes lesbian or plaid lesbian- Pin stripes forever, flannel looks good on other people but not my thing

46. Mini golf date lesbian or bowling date lesbian- bowling because there’s usually an arcade and snacks! I usually enjoy the shoot em ups and pinball and I’ll fuking destroy at air hockey and cause copious collateral damage, but mini golf is senseless whacking destruction so if there’s no security cameras mini golf

47. D E S T R O Y her at Mario kart lesbian or let her win lesbian- try but end up losing, but at least I have the cutest character-cart combo

48. Pullover hoodie lesbian or zip up hoodie lesbian- Zip ups forever, but like, not those shitty half crop top zip up shit, gimme an actual hoodie you heathens

49. Band tshirt lesbian or fandom tshirt lesbian- I got pokemon t-shirts so fandom?

50. Love her with your entire heart lesbian or lover her with your entire soul lesbian- uhhh both??? If souls are actual things then souls, bc giving someone your blood pumper would be messy, and I’m a gay ass demon