#barefoot 2014

[my-reputation-precedes-me]

if there’s ever a train that goes back to 2014 i’m gonna be the first one to board it

[jeonscatalyst]

Q: Which of the Hyungs gives you the best conform and the most attention

Jungkook: Jimin hyung. (2014)

Q: How were you able to overcome the harsh trainee life?

Jungkook: Jimin hyung comforted me and listened to my worries. (2013/ 2014)

Q: Who is the easiest hyung to talk to?

Jungkook: Jimin hyung. (2015)

Q: BTS relationship chart.

Jungkook about Jimin:

���All nighter friend”. All the time it’s just the two of us doing something at night. I don’t know what we do. (2016)

Q:Who do your feel your heart is most connected to?

Jungkook: Jimin hyung…….there’s something we just get about each other both on and off stage. (2019)

Q:Who knows you best? (2018)

Jungkook: Jimin hyung

Q:What comes to your mind when you think about the members (2021)

RM: Leader

Jin: 30

Yoongi: grandfather

Jhope: dance

Jimin: charming/ attractive

V: friend.

Q:Describe each members charm in one word (2021)

RM: Dull/ absent minded

Jin: Interested

Yoongi: Interested

Jhope: Positive

Jimin: considerate/ thoughtful

V: Lonely

Q: What are the members to Jungkook? (2020)

RM: Leader

Jin: oldest big brother who feels like a friend.

Yoongi: My oldie

Jhope: My bro

Jimin: my “You are me- I am you”

V: my commonality.

(Jungkook fetches and gives a pair of sleepers to a manager standing barefoot) (2022)

Members especially Hobi….”wow Jk that is so thoughtful. That is amazing

Jungkook: “I always do what Jimin hyung does”.

Jungkook about Jimin: (2015/2016)

TO JIMIN: He has an extremely reliable existence. He gives me strength, provides me motivation and hyung tells me I do the same for him. We are similar in our mutual love for the stage. Our relationship is of mutual synergy. I am grateful to him for having passion and for continuing to hold onto his dreams.

Jungkook to Jimin: (2015/2016/ 2017)

He is my catalyst

Jungkook describing Jimin: (2015/2016)

“Ah Jimin hyung…he has a very kind personality. He also treats me to lots of good food. His eyes when he smiles are so pretty. There is no one else on the team who is as charming as he is.

If I were a girl, I would want someone with that personality…let’s go with Jimin hyung. If I were a girl, I would date Jimin hyung.”

Jungkook about trips he took with Jimin ( 2023)

“These are the best trips I have ever had in my life”.

“ I want to go back to the first day of our trip”

“Let’s do this till we are 50”

There is nothing clearer!

[mariswxt]

cheque xyz 4 — steel nerves

SUMMARY: You’re the first female president of the USA, having won the 2014 elections against Amara Shurley by a landslide. Now that you were a symbol of feminism, reform and a better country, it meant that there were a lot more assassination attempts bound to be on your head. For that, you needed a personal bodyguard, so you had to pick right. And you picked right in convicted ex-hitman Dean Winchester. Right?

TW: assassination attempts, ex-hitman!Dean, POTUS!reader, politics!au, politics, murder, gunfire, boss reader, major sexual tension between reader and Dean but also romantic tension cause we love that, post shower!dean, reader thirsting over Dean, very not professional stuff, Dean being a thirst trap, smut, besties being besties, attempted murder by proxy, slow/quick burn, y’all will have to figure that out

STW: mentions of smut, masturbation (f. + m.), imagined smut

A/N: In honour of our queen Kamala Harris, who didn’t win the 2024 elections, so I give you what could’ve been

NOW PLAYING: Shameless by Camila Cabello

You were the President.

POTUS.

A symbol of feminism and reform.

But you were being kept awake by Dean Winchester, your bodyguard, with whom you should have a very strict, professional relationship, but no, you didn’t, instead you had thoughts in your head that had turned from almost getting shot to what would go on below the belt.

Oh, hell, you were going insane.

“Shit.” You breathed, turning over in bed before finally coming to rest on your back, staring up at the ceiling— ugh, when would this stop? The thirsting, seeing him all sexy, and you were so wound up your hand took over for itself, inching towards your panties, inch by inch.

Your career had been built on discipline, control, and unwavering focus. And yet Dean had managed to undo it all. It wasn’t just his looks—though, God knew, that man could have been carved from marble—it was his presence. He was steady and unflinching, a reassuring constant in a life full of chaos. And maybe that’s why your thoughts kept circling back to him. He made you feel safe, but worse than that, he made you feel alive.

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. "This is ridiculous," you muttered to yourself, as if saying it aloud would somehow make it true.

Dean Winchester had faced down danger in all its forms: gunfire, car chases, and even a stint in the country’s most secure prison. He was supposed to be unshakable, calm under pressure, immune to the chaos around him. But here he was, lying in the dark on a too-small bed in his room, wide awake, because of you.

You, Madam President. The most powerful woman in the country. His boss.

And the single most maddening person to ever walk the earth.

Dean groaned softly, dragging a hand over his face. He was supposed to protect you, not lie awake picturing you in every way but presidential. He should’ve been running through security protocols or strategies, but no. His brain was stuck on the curve of your smile, the soft way you’d looked at him earlier in the day, and worse — much worse — the way you’d looked that night in a fluffy white robe.

That damn robe.

Dean turned over on the bed, punching his pillow in frustration. “Shit.” The fabric of his plain t-shirt stuck to his chest as he shifted, the heat in the room matching the heat in his veins. He’d been trying to ignore it for hours, but the memory kept playing like a highlight reel he couldn’t shut off.

He hadn’t meant to linger in the doorway when he knocked earlier, but when you’d opened the door, barefoot and wrapped in that ridiculously soft-looking robe, his brain had short-circuited. The way it cinched around your waist, the way your skin glowed under the soft light of your room, and the way you’d looked up at him, your lips parting slightly in surprise — it was enough to make his chest tighten and his pulse quicken.

You hadn’t even done anything overtly suggestive. You’d just stood there, looking at him with those sharp, intelligent eyes that always seemed to see right through him, and it had been enough to unravel him. He’d barely managed to stammer out a question about your safety, and when you’d assured him you were fine, he knew he should’ve turned and left immediately.

But he hadn’t.

You should’ve stopped your hand from slowly pulling down your panties, thighs rubbing together in a last ditch attempt at friction, but nothing came, obviously, other than a mild relief from the ache and the throb you were experiencing… like, 24/7. It made you think that Bella and Steph were right, that you really were down bad for Dean, even though you were very adamant to say no.

You gasped softly when two of your fingers found your clit, rubbing in small circles, your head pressing back against the pillow and thanking the thick walls as a small moan slipped past your lips after, your thumb taking over as those two fingers dragged up and down your cunt, imagining Dean whispering in your ear, either sweet nothings or dirty words, pushing two fingers into you so fast it made your head dizzy. And you didn’t even need to slow down.

“Dean,” The name slipped past your lips just as your vision turned hazy for three seconds before clearing, thanking whatever deity that Dean wasn’t sleeping outside of the door and instead back in his own room so he couldn’t hear you.

You blamed him.

You so blamed him for being so sexy, with that deep voice that made your panties soak, green eyes that pierced you to your very core, the way his strong hands would grab you and pull you to safety in the face of danger and how the corner of those pouty lips would quirk up every time he was amused. The water from the hose dripping down his chest as he watered the flower.

You probably shouldn’t sexualise him watering a flowerbed.

And you definitely shouldn’t sexualise his job.

Ok, Dean couldn’t exactly help the low groan and the way the heel of his palm began to grind on his cock over his sweats, other beginning to work those and his boxers down over his hips and ass so he could free himself, just imagining you on top of him, blouse unbuttoned just enough to admire those gorgeous tits, skirt or trousers — he wasn’t picky, it’d be ripped off anyway — off so he could fixate on that glistening, pretty pussy.

This was so wrong. Fuck it, we ball.

His thumb traced the vein on the base of his cock, his jaw clenching and the veins on his neck popping as he let out a strangled moan through gritted teeth, hand wrapping around his base and moving up and down slowly. God, if it was you, whether it be your mouth or cunt, moving on him like this, he’d probably go insane. Oh, Lord save him, he already was.

He blamed you.

Dean blamed you for the moans and grunts leaving his mouth as he pumped his cock in his fist, hips bucking up off the bed, eyelashes fluttering against the apples of his cheeks as his free hand gripped the sheets so tight he was almost fully sure they’d rip in his blunt nails. It played in his head, seeing you in your pyjamas, wearing that robe, the little Spitfire you were when he first arrived in chains and shackles.

He’d never seen a hot President. At least not one like you.

Your fingers were pumping in and out of your slick pussy, which was embarrassingly tight— probably from the hours spent campaigning and stressing over votes and legislation planning, not to mention multiple assassination attempts over the past two weeks that Dean had miraculously saved you from.

The image of him shoving that first hitman forward played in front of your head, and you wanted him to do that to you on a mattress instead.

Hell, you’d thank him.

“S’good, Dean, shit—” Little praises went to midair as your thumb worked over your clit, your fingers curled, only to just miss the spot inside you by one fucking centimetre, cause your fingers weren’t long enough. At least you made up for it by rolling your nipple between your forefinger and thumb through the fabric of your tank top, the friction against the soft fabric making you shudder.

Oh, you really shouldn’t be doing this, but you knew you couldn’t stop thinking about him, the way his eyes would rake over your body when you wore that robe— ugh, were you down bad and you couldn’t stop.

With a soft cry, you felt yourself come around his your fingers, panting a little when you realised that you’d just come to the thought of your bodyguard. Oh, Jesus.

Dean couldn’t take his eyes off the come on his hand, cursing himself. Shit, shit, shit. Did he just touch himself to you— better yet, did he just come to the thought of you? This was bad, he wasn’t meant to be thinking of you like that, let alone touching himself to his thought about you. Sure, you’d look so pretty riding him, but no. No.

He grabbed a tissue, groaning as he slid his sweats and boxers back on to clean up the mess before chucking it to the very bottom of the bin and bundling the sheets to throw them in the laundry basket. “Fuckin’ idiot, Dean, she’d never think’a you like that.”

Would you?

He didn’t know, you just seemed so… far away. Unattainable, if anyone was to gain your hand it would be someone like some wealthy, full of shit politician.

Not him.

He came from a poor background, where sawed-offs and tales of blood made up most of his childhood, as well as the drone to keep Sammy safe, make sure Sammy has enough food, a warm bed— he’d never wanted anything for himself until now. Until you, until freedom.

The morning sunlight poured into the room as you sat at your desk, brushing over the papers in front of you with little interest. It wasn’t your work occupying your thoughts today. No, it was the conversation you’d been rehearsing in your head for hours. You wanted to visit your family. You needed it—needed the familiarity of their voices, the warmth of their hugs, and a brief respite from the chaos of your new role. And the fact that you touched yourself to the thought of Dean last night.

When the door opened, and Dean walked in, his towering frame filling the space, you straightened your back and set your pen down. His presence always had that effect on you, like you had to pull yourself together whenever he was around.

"Morning," he said, his voice gruff as usual, his sharp green eyes scanning the room out of habit. He wore his usual suit, but the top button of his shirt was undone, his tie slightly loosened as if he’d already fought off one disaster this morning. It gave him that rugged, commanding aura you found all too distracting.

He bit his tongue to avoid a blush, to avoid a raging boner too.

"Dean," you started, trying to sound casual, even though your nerves had already started buzzing. "I need to talk to you about something."

He quirked an eyebrow, folding his arms across his broad chest. "What’s on your mind, Madam President?"

You rolled your eyes at the title, though the corners of your lips twitched. "I want to visit my family next weekend."

Dean’s reaction was immediate and expected. His arms unfolded, and his expression shifted into one of disbelief. "No," he said firmly, the word coming out almost like a growl.

You blinked at him. "Excuse me?"

"No," he repeated, stepping closer, his tone resolute. "It’s too dangerous. You know that. After everything that’s happened—"

"I’m aware of what’s happened," you cut in, your voice sharper than you intended. You stood, meeting his gaze head-on. "But I’m the President of the United States, Dean. I don’t need your permission to see my family."

He exhaled harshly, raking a hand through his hair. "It’s not about permission. It’s about keeping you alive."

"And I appreciate that, but I can’t let fear dictate my life," you argued, stepping closer to him. "I haven’t seen them in months. My mom, my dad—my little sister, Dean. They need to see me. I need to see them."

Dean’s jaw tightened, and he looked away for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. When he turned back to you, his eyes were burning with something you couldn’t quite place. "You think I don’t get that?" he said, his voice lower now, more intense. "You think I don’t understand what it’s like to want normal, to want family? But this isn’t normal. You’re not just some woman visiting her parents. You’re the goddamn President, and there’s a target on your back."

"I know that," you said, your tone softening slightly. "But I trust you to keep me safe, Dean. Isn’t that your job?"

His shoulders stiffened, and for a moment, the room was filled with a tense silence. Then, in one swift motion, he moved closer, crowding you against the wall.

Your breath hitched as his hands came up, planting on either side of your head, boxing you in. His body was so close that you could feel the heat radiating off him, his scent—a mix of clean soap and faint cologne—invading your senses. His green eyes locked onto yours, the intensity in them enough to make your heart pound.

"Do you think I don’t take that seriously?" he said, his voice low and rough. "Keeping you safe? It’s all I think about, every damn second. So don’t stand there and tell me to just ‘trust’ that it’ll be fine. Because if something happens to you, I—" He cut himself off, his jaw tightening as he leaned in slightly, his face just inches from yours.

Your heart was practically slamming against your ribcage now, your mind screaming at the proximity, at the way his gaze kept flickering to your lips. Is he going to kiss me? The thought was both thrilling and terrifying, and you couldn’t stop your breath from quickening.

You wanted to say something, anything, but your throat felt like it had closed up. All you could do was stare back at him, caught in the magnetic pull of his presence, the weight of his body so close to yours making it hard to think straight.

And then, just as suddenly as he’d crowded you, Dean’s expression shifted. The tension in his shoulders eased, and he let out a slow breath, his hands dropping to his sides.

"No," he muttered, almost to himself, before stepping back. The space between you felt like a sudden, cold void.

You blinked, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions that had just passed through the room. "Dean—"

"Fine," he interrupted, his voice flat now, his face unreadable. "We’ll go. But I’m doubling security, and you’re not leaving my sight the entire trip."

It wasn’t the answer you’d expected, and it took you a moment to catch up. "Wait, really?"

"Yeah," he said, already turning toward the door. "I’ll handle the details. Just… don’t pull something like this again."

His hand was on the doorknob when you found your voice again. "Dean."

He paused, his back still to you.

"Thank you," you said softly.

He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment. There was something there—something raw and unspoken—but he didn’t say a word. Instead, he gave you a small nod and walked out, leaving you alone with the echoes of your racing heart and the feeling. That feeling.

The sun hung high in the sky as you stood in your parents’ backyard, the familiar scent of freshly mowed grass and blooming flowers enveloping you in a blanket of nostalgia. Your father, Mark, was at the grill with Ryan, the two of them animatedly discussing something about football, while Austin darted around the yard with an energy only a twelve-year-old could muster. Your mom, Odette, was inside with Wyatt, cooing at the baby as Eden leaned against the picnic table beside you, sipping lemonade.

It was peaceful here. Normal. For the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe. The weight of the presidency, the looming threats, and the constant tension all seemed to melt away in the warmth of your family’s love. You turned to Eden, who smiled knowingly at you.

“You look like you’ve needed this,” she said softly, brushing a stray hair from her face.

“More than I can even say,” you replied, sipping your own lemonade. “It’s been… a lot.”

Eden gave you a playful nudge. “And how’s it going with the bodyguard? What was his name again? Dean?”

Your cheeks warmed immediately, and you looked away, focusing on Austin’s wild antics as a distraction. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, please,” Eden teased, leaning closer. “Ryan told me he’s practically glued to your side. And he’s hot. Tell me you haven’t at least thought about it.”

Before you could answer—or even come up with a deflection—the sound of a distant car engine caught your attention. You turned instinctively, scanning the driveway where Dean stood near the gate, ever-watchful. He hadn’t said much since you’d arrived, just a few gruff instructions about staying within sight and letting him handle security.

Eden followed your gaze, her eyebrows raising slightly. “He’s not just hot. He’s smoldering. How do you even focus on work?”

You opened your mouth to retort, but the words never came. A sharp, deafening crack split the air, and time seemed to slow.

Gunfire.

Dean moved like a blur, faster than you’d ever seen anyone react. He was sprinting toward you before your brain even registered what was happening. His shout came as he dove in front of you. “Get down!”

The impact of his body hitting yours sent you stumbling backward, and Eden’s scream echoed in your ears. You hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from your lungs. Above you, Dean grunted, a low, pained sound, and you saw the crimson bloom of blood spreading across his side. Your heart stopped.

“Dean!” you gasped, scrambling to sit up. “You’re hit!”

“Stay down!” he barked, his voice a growl as he clutched his side. He drew his gun with his free hand and fired toward the direction of the shot—a figure in the treeline, partially obscured by the shadows. “Mark, Ryan—get everyone inside! Now!”

Your father and brother didn’t hesitate, shouting for the rest of the family to move. You watched as they ushered Eden and Austin inside, your mother clutching Wyatt tightly to her chest. But you couldn’t move. Your feet felt rooted to the spot as you stared at Dean, who was now kneeling, using the picnic table for cover as he returned fire.

“I said get inside!” he shouted, his eyes locking onto yours, fierce and unyielding.

“No,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. “I’m not leaving you.”

Dean swore under his breath, but there was no time to argue. The shooter was still firing, bullets splintering the wooden table and chipping the patio stones around you. Dean’s gun clicked empty, and he cursed again, fumbling for a spare magazine.

Without thinking, you reached for his backup weapon, the one he always kept holstered on his hip. Your hands trembled as you gripped the cool metal, the weight of it foreign and daunting.

Dean’s eyes widened. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Helping,” you said, your voice steadier now. “Tell me what to do.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his expression a mix of disbelief and something that almost looked like pride. Then he nodded sharply. “Safety’s off. Point, aim, and squeeze. Don’t jerk the trigger. Focus on the target.”

You swallowed hard, nodding as you peeked around the table. The shooter was still in the treeline, barely visible through the foliage. Your hands shook as you raised the gun, the sights aligning on the dark figure.

“Breathe,” Dean said, his voice calm despite the chaos. “You’ve got this. Just breathe.”

You inhaled deeply, steadying your hands as best you could. The shooter fired again, the sound sharp and jarring, but you didn’t flinch. You squeezed the trigger, the recoil jolting your arms as the shot rang out.

Dean fired again too, having reloaded, his movements precise despite the blood staining his side. Between the two of you, the shooter faltered, retreating further into the trees. Dean didn’t hesitate. He rose to his feet, grabbing the edge of the picnic table for support, and turned to you.

“Stay here,” he commanded, his voice firm but not unkind. “Keep that gun ready, just in case.”

“Dean, you’re hurt—”

“Stay here,” he repeated, cutting you off. “I mean it.”

And then he was gone, moving toward the treeline with a determination that sent a chill down your spine. You wanted to follow, to help, but you knew better than to disobey him now. Instead, you stayed crouched behind the table, gripping the gun tightly and scanning the yard for any sign of danger.

Minutes felt like hours as you waited, your heart pounding in your chest. Finally, you heard the sound of heavy footsteps, and Dean emerged from the trees, dragging the shooter by the back of his jacket. The man was groaning, his face bloodied and his hands bound with a zip tie.

Dean’s expression was grim as he approached, his eyes flicking to you briefly. “It’s over,” he said, his voice rough. “You did good.”

Relief washed over you, and your knees buckled as you sank to the ground, the gun slipping from your fingers. Dean dropped the shooter unceremoniously onto the patio, his attention immediately shifting to you.

“Hey,” he said, kneeling beside you despite the obvious pain it caused him. “You okay?”

You nodded, though your hands were still trembling. “You’re the one who got shot.”

“I’ll live,” he said with a faint smirk, though his face was pale. “You? You were a goddamn natural out there.”

The praise warmed you, but it was quickly overshadowed by the reality of what had just happened. Your family was safe, but the thought of how close you’d come to losing them—or Dean—was almost too much to bear.

Dean seemed to sense your thoughts. He reached out, his hand settling gently on your shoulder. “We’ll get through this,” he said, his voice steady. “I’ve got you.”

You nodded again, leaning into his touch for just a moment before the sound of sirens in the distance reminded you that the fight wasn’t over yet. But for now, you let yourself believe him. Dean always kept his promises.

You were a politician, not a medic.

Dean wasn’t gonna apologise for taking a bullet for you, you were the president and he was your bodyguard— a controversial bodyguard, since you’d hired him when he was still in the ADX, but was he gonna complain? No. But he hadn’t saved you purely cause he was fearful for his job, he liked you, for some odd reason.

So he was here, guiding you on how to re-bandage a bullet wound in his side, which could be added onto the list of things he’d taught you, like how to thrown a grown man over your shoulder and how to shoot. With it came a bunch of praise between the instructions, cause you got really nervous, he knew that.

You wouldn’t complain about the view either. He had built muscle, smooth skin, an amulet that hung from his neck, along with abs and biceps— oh, he’d make you drool. But he was your bodyguard, so you had to keep on listening to his instructions on how to clean and wrap this shit up. Yeah— yeah.

Honestly, seeing you all nervous to bandage up what — in his experience — was a small bullet wound, but in his and your defence, his line of work kind of consisted of everyday death in gruesome ways, so he’ll cut you some slack. Even if it was funny. But ok, ok, he’ll stop now, just kind of let his eyes drift on how pretty you were, how gorgeous, cause he’s never had a hot president before. Sweet.

"Fuck," he hissed, then chuckled— oh, shit, that hurt, but it was just, y’know, antiseptic, he was used to it, "ok, s’ good.” That jawline that could cut steel clenched slightly, but he didn’t move— except those delicious, lip-bite inducing abs rippling.

“Good, sweetheart.” Well, he had to be encouraging, it’s your first time bandaging. But it’s funny.

“You sure? Cause you just kinda made that sound and I have no idea what I’m doing, so…” the cloth with antiseptic was held aloft, having been snatched away when you first pressed it to his skin. You couldn’t trust yourself.

This was— really, really bad but also kind of cute. He shook his head, chuckling quietly, almost rolling his eyes, “yeah, I’m sure.” The words were said so calmly, like it wasn’t a big deal that you kept removing the cloth whenever it touched his wound, it wasn’t like he was in major pain or anything and it didn’t even phase his face. His eyes fluttered open to look at you, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“Go ahead, press it down. I promise I won’t move.”

“Yeah, I see.” You nodded, looking like you were scared of the cloth. “It kinda worries me how you’re acting like this is an everyday Tuesday.” Toned stomach, hot body, toned everything, sculpted biceps, panty-dropping everything—

“Hey, when you do what I do, it does become everyday Tuesday. Besides, it’s not that bad." He shook his head as you both just held the cloth against his abs, but he was paying more attention on how focused you looked on his wound and the bandage, cause it was cute, or maybe he was just focused on the fact you were touching him. Yeah, probably that.

But his abs were flexing slightly beneath your touch, well, beneath the cloth as he watched you watching your own hands hold the cloth, a soft amused smile on his lips.

You looked up, saw his smile and rolled your eyes with a laugh— the little shit. “Ugh— stop it. I’m a politician, not… whatever y’all called yourselves in the shady side. Never knew I’d have to help patch up my bodyguard.” Dick.

“I suppose you have a good point.” He chuckled, he had that same, sweet and sexy voice to match his charming, handsome face. "You weren’t meant to have to patch me up though." He shook his head, "suppose that’s part of my job description."

He couldn’t help but admire you and your features, pretty face, pretty eyes, soft laugh— oh. Pretty voice too, but of course. "I can take over if you need me to?" He’d ask softly, but honestly, he’d rather just have you continue.

“I’ve started this, I’m gonna damn well finish it.” You snorted, then looked through the medical materials— ooh, that looked like a lot, and so you cringed a little, looking between the wound, bandaging materials and him. “What— the fuck do I use next?”

The wound in question was on his lower left side, he’d definitely have another scar to add to the collection on his body, but it wasn’t that deep. Dean watched you, his lips twitching into another small smile at your tone of voice.

His eyes followed you looking between the wound and materials, and he reached forward, grabbing a gauze pad and handing it you, while he held a bandage roll of your choice in his other hand. "You’ve gotta put the pad over first then you wrap the bandage around." He explained, like a teacher would to a student, which really, he was.

“Ok, thank you,” You smiled — at least that was out of the way — so you took the pad and pressed it to his wound just firm enough, wrapping the bandages firm, not like a delicate flower, you knew that wouldn’t compress shit. “Ok? That good?”

Dean inhaled the moment you pressed the gauze to his wound, but he didn’t pull away, cause he was used to having stuff pressed, pushed, shoved, stabbed, sewn into his skin. He felt the slight burn of pressure, but he was fine.

That sounded dark.

He looked at your handy work, you were a damn quick learner, his own hand grabbing the bandage to help you to wrap. "Good job, sweetheart, you done well for your first time." Maybe he was a little proud— actually, he actually was.

“Really?” You looked up, then bit your lip excitedly, giggling— ok, that probably was just the Dean Winchester effect, giggling like a schoolgirl. “How do I, y’know, secure it? Stop it from falling?”

That sight definitely did something to him. He wasn’t about to turn on his president, but the giggling, fuck, had him biting the inside of his cheek. He just loved the sight and he was definitely going to be getting that image stuck in his brain.

Once you were done wrapping the bandage around the gauze pad, the only thing that kept it in place was tape. "You need some tape to secure it." He guided your hands to tape the bandage, grinning.

Too late, already turned on— you knew exactly what your sheets would be messy from this night. “Ok, is that done?” You asked, your hands springing off as if any move you made would make the bandage combust… or somethin’.

The little moment you moved your hands off like that made him chuckle, his head shaking a little. He noticed you were, you know, turned on-ish, his tongue darting out of his lips to wet them as he spoke. "Yeah, yeah, it is." Pretty good.

He pressed his own hand against the bandage, before looking up at you, his eyes flicking down and up again, "you did a damn good job, sweetheart. For real."

“Good.” You nodded, then swallowed, rubbing your neck. “I should’ve taken your advice, going to meet my family was a bad idea. You got shot out of it. I’m sorry.”

Dean had been able to put two and two together with the moment you mentioned family, and with the mention of getting shot, he knew. Your parents didn’t have a good reaction to you becoming president, it wasn’t that surprising to him either. "You’re fine. Not your fault I got shot, sweetheart."

He said it genuinely, his tongue flicking out again to wet his lips, like a bad habit he had. "You needed to see them, even if it went to hell, you needed to see." He shook his head.

“I still care, y’know. About you.” You sighed, tilting your head. “Even if you tell me not to worry, I’ll… I’ll always worry. You’re human too.” That right there was a president who gave a damn.

God, you’re gonna make him do something. That sentence alone made his heart flutter, made a small smile form on his face, it was a gentle one. Hearing someone actually care about his wellbeing, made him feel things.

He was speechless for a moment, just looking at you, and that statement really sunk in. Yeah… he wasn’t used to people caring this much anymore. He always cared about someone in his line of work, but he? He didn’t really expect to be cared for. "Thank you." He said gently, honestly, sincerely.

"S’ alright. Didn't want to fuck it up." You smiled awkwardly, then felt the distance close, his hand going up, but at the same moment you jumped a little, he pulled away to check you were ok.

Did he mess it up? Was he gonna get fired? Oh, shit —

Then he felt your lips on his; gentle, soft, nothing like the kisses he'd had with girls before. Your cheek— god, your skin was so soft, his fingers so calloused, he really shouldn't be here right now, not when you were way out of his league. Extremely, you were the President, and he was your bodyguard, and—

Ok, your lips tasted like coffee. His brain could shut down now.

It was soft, and you let out a small gasp as you held him tighter and closer, tighter and closer. That little gasp was like music to his ears, that quiet sound was what he wanted to hear — he couldn't resist, he could feel the warmth from you, from your soft lips against his. It felt too good, like some sort of forbidden fruit. He just couldn't stop tasting it.

It's just a gentle kiss, slow kiss and his tongue was staying in his mouth for the time being, but his nose just slightly bumped against yours. There was a quiet groan that escaped him, that just felt too good.

Your lips pressed soft and slow againsthis, small stamps on him that told him he was yours- he couldn't be anyone else's now, he just couldn't, not when he had a hit of you, when he was crazy for you and he'd continue to be for the rest of his life, damn it. And each one got more feather light, less of a claim and more of a brush, but it still sent his neurons firing and his every muscle shivering underneath your gentle touch on his bare chest, amulet hanging on his collarbones.

"Ma'am..." Dean began when he finallyopened his eyes to meet yours— how the fuck does an ex-hitman go from the Supermax to this? Well, if this what it's like, he'd never complain again. He'd never want to leave anyway, as if he could resist your gorgeous ass. Your thumb rubbed his chin, looking so pretty with your cheeks flushed and lips all kiss-swollen, you were like his own angel. From the moment you'd ordered his shackles to be taken off him, you were his guardian angel.

"Shh," The sound came so gentle from your lips, we'll talk about it soon, I promise, we— we just both need to get some sleep."

You both laughed at the notion, grinning ike idiots, or like two teenagers after realising that they liked each other wher everyone implied they did. Idiots in a nutshell.

"Yeah, gotta hit the hay." Dean grinned, the backs of his fingers brushing the apple of your cheek before he cupped it his palm warm against your cheek. You couldn't help it; your eyes fluttered slightly, though you still let the smile play vaguely on your lips. He leaned forward, his hand cradling the back of your head as his own lips met your forehead preathing in, letting the kiss linger before he pulled away. "G'night, sweetheart. l've got you, aight?"

You couldn't help the broad smile butterflies, and even though you felt like you were in a Wattpad story, you'd take it all a thousand times over. "You've got me?"

'Course." He smiled, holding your head up high with his thumb and index holding your chin, pretty green eyes soft. "Gotta protect my angel." My angel.

His angel.

Even as he put on his shirt and left, you couldn't help how you fell back onto your bed, covered your face with your hands and squealed with giggles, because you'd kissed him, and it felt like fire and ice and electricity and warmth and heaven, shit.

Steph and Bella were right.

Frank Russo paced the length of his luxurious office, his polished Italian leather shoes clicking against the marble floor. His jaw was tight, his fists clenched at his sides as he glared at the framed cityscape visible through the wide windows. The skyline of New York stretched out before him like his own personal empire, but it offered no solace today. The news had come in just moments ago, and it was nothing short of infuriating.

He spun around sharply, his cold, steely eyes locking onto his assistant, Lou, who stood by the door. Lou was a wiry man in his late forties, his once-black hair now streaked with gray. Though usually calm and composed, even Lou seemed unsettled under Frank’s intense scrutiny.

“You’re telling me not one of them could get the job done?” Frank hissed, his voice low and menacing.

Lou hesitated for a moment, clearly weighing his words carefully. “It’s not for lack of trying, boss. Winchester… he’s not like the others. He knows every move before it’s made.”

“Of course he does!” Frank bellowed, slamming a fist against the heavy oak desk in the center of the room. Papers scattered, and a glass of whiskey wobbled precariously before settling. “He’s one of us—or he was until he decided to play hero. That’s why I chose him in the first place. But now…” He trailed off, his lip curling in disgust. “Now he’s a liability.”

Lou nodded slowly, his hands clasped in front of him. “Dean knows the playbook inside and out. The hitmen… they don’t stand a chance. They’re predictable to him.”

Frank ran a hand through his slicked-back hair, letting out a slow, sharp exhale. His frustration was palpable, the room practically vibrating with his anger. He couldn’t afford another failure. The President had to be eliminated—her reforms, her policies, everything she stood for was a direct threat to the empire he’d spent decades building. And as long as Dean Winchester was standing in the way, it was impossible to get close to her.

“What do you suggest, Lou?” Frank asked finally, his voice eerily calm. “You’re supposed to be my problem solver. So solve the problem.”

Lou’s eyes flicked to the desk, avoiding Frank’s piercing gaze. “We need someone different,” he said cautiously. “Someone who isn’t just another gun-for-hire. Someone who can outthink Dean.”

Frank snorted, a humorless sound. “You’re saying I need a ghost to take out a ghost.”

Lou gave a small shrug. “Something like that. Dean’s good—better than good. But there’s always someone better.”

Frank stared at him for a long moment, the weight of the silence pressing down on them both. Then, finally, he nodded. “Fine. Find this ‘someone better.’ I don’t care what it costs, who they are, or what they want. Just find them and get them here. And make sure they understand the stakes.”

Lou straightened, clearly relieved to have a task to focus on. “Understood, boss. I’ll start making calls right away.”

Frank waved a dismissive hand. “Go. Now.”

Lou turned and exited the room quickly, leaving Frank alone with his simmering rage. He walked over to the window, staring out at the city once more. It wasn’t just about the President anymore; this had become personal. Dean Winchester, the man he’d once trusted as one of his own, had turned against him. He’d become a traitor to the very world that had shaped him.

Frank clenched his teeth, his hands gripping the edge of the windowsill so tightly his knuckles turned white. He wasn’t a man who tolerated betrayal, and Dean’s defection was the ultimate insult. It wasn’t enough to kill the President—Dean had to pay, too. The man needed to know what it meant to cross Frank Russo.

Meanwhile, Lou sat in his dimly lit office, a phone pressed to his ear. His fingers drummed against the desk as he listened to the static-laced voice on the other end of the line.

“This job… it’s not just anyone who can pull it off,” Lou said, keeping his voice low. “We’re talking about taking out the President of the United States. The target is surrounded by the best security detail money can’t even buy. And then there’s Winchester.”

The voice on the other end responded, though the words were inaudible to anyone but Lou. He nodded along, his expression serious.

“Yes,” he said after a moment. “Exactly. That’s why we need someone who can outmaneuver him. Someone who can think like him, but isn’t bound by the same rules.”

Another pause as the voice continued. Lou’s lips curved into a small, grim smile.

“I knew you’d say that,” he murmured. “All right, I’ll make the arrangements. But remember, this isn’t just about the money. You pull this off, and you’ll have the gratitude of the most powerful man in New York. That’s worth more than any paycheck.”

He hung up the phone, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. The person he’d contacted was an enigma, a shadow in the criminal underworld. Their reputation was unparalleled, their methods ruthless and efficient. If anyone could get past Dean Winchester, it was them.

Lou stood, smoothing his tie as he prepared to deliver the news to Frank. He felt a strange mix of relief and apprehension. The wheels were in motion now, and there was no turning back. If this plan failed, it wouldn’t just mean trouble for Frank—it would mean the end for all of them.

As Lou re-entered Frank’s office, he found his boss standing by the window, the city lights casting an eerie glow across his face. Frank turned, his eyes narrowing expectantly.

“Well?” he demanded.

Lou nodded. “I’ve got someone. They’re on their way. If anyone can get past Winchester, it’s them.”

Frank’s lips curled into a sinister smile. “Good. Make sure they understand that failure is not an option.”

Lou hesitated for a moment before replying. “They understand. But there’s one thing, boss. This person… they don’t play by the usual rules. If we bring them in, there’s no controlling what happens next.”

Frank’s smile only widened. “I don’t care about the rules, Lou. I care about results. Now get out of here and make sure everything’s ready.”

Lou nodded and left the room, leaving Frank alone once again. He returned to his desk, pouring himself a glass of whiskey and swirling the amber liquid thoughtfully. The game was changing, and he was prepared to do whatever it took to win.

Dean Winchester had made his move. Now it was Frank’s turn. And this time, he wouldn’t miss.

The motorcade glided through the bustling streets, the presidential limousine flanked by sleek black SUVs, their tinted windows concealing the elite security detail within. Outside, the city hummed with its usual rhythm, but inside the vehicle, the air was thick with anticipation. You smoothed your blouse, a hint of nervous energy crackling through you. Today wasn’t just another meeting; it was a calculated move toward a greater goal—uniting efforts with someone who once stood as your rival.

Amara Shurley.

The very name carried a weight of respect and a tinge of nostalgia. She had been your fiercest competitor during the presidential race, her campaign marked by poise, intelligence, and a quiet determination that had made her a formidable opponent. Yet, through the fiery debates and the clash of ideals, there had always been an unspoken camaraderie.

You were both women striving for a better future in a world that wasn’t always kind to ambition.

As the limousine pulled up to the understated entrance of Amara’s private office, you glanced out the window. The building was sleek and modern, its glass façade reflecting the afternoon sun. Dean Winchester, as always, was a shadow at your side, his sharp eyes scanning the perimeter before opening the door for you.

“Stay close,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. It was more an order than a suggestion, but you nodded, stepping out into the crisp autumn air.

Your heels clicked against the pavement as you approached the entrance, flanked by members of your security detail. Dean remained a step behind, his presence a constant reassurance. The receptionist, a young woman with a polished smile, greeted you warmly before leading you to the elevator.

The ride up was silent, save for the hum of the machinery. When the doors opened, Amara was there, waiting.

“Madam President,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice as she extended her hand.

“Amara,” you replied with a smile, shaking her hand firmly. “You can drop the formalities. This is just a friendly meeting.”

Her lips quirked up into a knowing grin. “Friendly? That’s not the vibe I got during the debates.”

You laughed, shaking your head as she led you into her office. It was a spacious room with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city. The décor was minimalist but sophisticated—dark wood furniture, a few tasteful art pieces, and a large desk that dominated the space.

Dean and the security detail lingered by the door as Amara gestured for you to sit on the plush couch. She poured two glasses of sparkling water, handing you one before sitting across from you.

“So,” she began, crossing her legs elegantly. “What’s on your mind?”

You took a sip of water, gathering your thoughts. “I’ll get straight to the point. I need your help.”

Her brows arched in mild surprise. “With what?”

“With credibility,” you said, leaning forward slightly. “I have a lot of ideas—big ideas—about what I want to achieve during my term. But I also know that change can’t happen without collaboration and input from people who understand the nuances of policy-making.”

Amara nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. “You’ve never been one to shy away from ambition. What kind of changes are we talking about?”

You launched into your vision, laying out your plans with the same passion that had driven your campaign. Legalizing abortion nationwide, reforming healthcare to include more accessible mental health services, implementing renewable energy initiatives to combat climate change—it was all there. As you spoke, Amara listened intently, her sharp mind clearly dissecting every point.

“I want to make sure these legislations aren’t just bold ideas but practical, impactful, and sustainable,” you concluded. “And I believe you’re the person who can help me achieve that.”

Amara was silent for a moment, her fingers lightly tapping against the armrest. “You’re asking me to cross the aisle and work with you.”

“I’m asking you to do what’s right,” you corrected gently. “You’ve always been about progress, Amara. This isn’t about politics—it’s about people.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if she was going to agree. But then she smiled—a genuine, warm smile that softened her features.

“All right,” she said. “I’m in.”

Relief washed over you, and you returned her smile. “Thank you. Truly.”

Amara shrugged, a glint of humor in her eyes. “Don’t thank me yet. I might tear some of your ideas apart.”

You laughed, the tension easing slightly. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

The conversation shifted to specifics, and the next hour flew by in a flurry of discussion and debate. Amara challenged you on several points, offering insights and suggestions that made your proposals stronger. It was invigorating—a reminder of why you respected her so much.

Dean remained by the door, his gaze occasionally flicking to you as you spoke with animated passion. You caught his eye once, and he gave you a small nod, his expression unreadable but approving. It was a brief moment, but it steadied you.

As the meeting wound down, Amara leaned back against the couch, a satisfied look on her face. “You’ve got some solid ideas, Madam President. I think we can make this work.”

“We will,” you said with confidence. “Together.”

She extended her hand again, and you shook it firmly, sealing the partnership.

As you stood to leave, Amara walked you to the door, pausing to glance at Dean. “You’ve got quite the guardian angel there,” she remarked, her tone light but perceptive.

Dean’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t respond. You smiled, glancing at him. “He’s the best.”

Amara nodded, her gaze lingering on Dean for a moment before turning back to you. “Good luck, Madam President. You’re going to need it.”

You laughed softly, stepping into the hallway with Dean at your side. The motorcade was waiting downstairs, but as you walked, you felt a renewed sense of purpose. Amara’s agreement was a victory—not just for you, but for the people you served.

And as you glanced at Dean, his steady presence a constant in the whirlwind of your life, you felt a quiet reassurance. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you weren’t facing them alone.

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait—” Steph’s voice pitched to an impressive decibel as her eyes widened, practically sparkling with excitement. Bella, sitting cross-legged on the couch, let out an ear-piercing squeal that had you cringing and glancing at the closed door to make sure no one outside could hear. “You what?” Steph exclaimed again, gripping your arm with both hands.

“I kissed him,” you muttered, already regretting telling them anything.

Bella bounced in place, her red curls bouncing with her. “Oh my God!” she squealed. “You kissed Dean? Dean Winchester? The human embodiment of danger and hotness? This is like—this is straight out of a fanfiction!”

You buried your face in your hands, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Oh, it’s a big deal,” Steph said, leaning forward, her voice laced with dramatic emphasis. “The hottest bodyguard in the history of the great States, sworn to protect the President, and now— kissed by her? Girl, this is Wattpad-level gold.”

Bella nodded fervently, her grin stretching ear to ear. “Okay, okay, but details. We need details,” she demanded. “Where were you? What was the mood? Was it passionate? Was it—”

“Steamy?” Steph interjected, waggling her eyebrows.

You groaned, slumping back against the armchair as you covered your face with your hands again. “It wasn’t like that,” you mumbled through your fingers.

Bella and Steph both froze mid-gush, exchanging quick glances. “Wait,” Bella said slowly, lowering her voice as though the room had grown ominously serious. “Are you telling me… it wasn’t steamy?”

Steph’s mouth fell open, a hand pressed to her chest in mock outrage. “No. Way. What do you mean it wasn’t steamy? He’s Dean Winchester! Tall, broad-shouldered, killer jawline, the whole sexy-mercenary-in-a-suit package! How was it not steamy?”

You peeked through your fingers, feeling mortified but also exasperated. “It just wasn’t, okay? It was—” You struggled to find the right words, your mind flashing back to the moment. The electricity, the hesitation, the heat that had simmered under the surface without ever truly boiling over. “It was… nice.”

“Nice?” Bella repeated, her voice heavy with disbelief. She leaned back, throwing her hands up. “Nice is the word you’re going with?”

“I’m sorry it wasn’t something out of a Harlequin romance!” you snapped, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed your embarrassment. “It was when I was bandaging him up. It just… happened.”

Steph squinted at you suspiciously. “Was there tongue?”

“No!”

“No tongue?!” Bella threw her head back dramatically, clutching at her chest. “Oh, what a waste of prime romantic real estate!”

“It wasn’t supposed to be some grand, sweeping kiss,” you argued, though you could feel the tension creeping into your tone. “It just… it felt right in the moment, okay? That’s all.”

Steph shook her head, clearly unimpressed. “You’re telling me you’ve got the lead in what could be the most epic slow-burn romance of all time, and you settle for a ‘nice’ kiss?”

Bella sighed dramatically, leaning over to pat your arm. “Honey, you’re the President of the United States. You’re supposed to be setting standards.”

You rolled your eyes, though a small laugh escaped despite yourself. “I can’t believe I told you two anything.”

“Oh, please,” Steph said, grinning. “You would’ve combusted if you didn’t. You’ve been looking way too pleased with yourself all morning.”

Bella nodded sagely. “We had to pry it out of you, but it was worth it. Even if the kiss itself was, let’s face it, a little underwhelming.”

“Underwhelming?” you repeated, incredulous. “You weren’t even there!”

“Which is exactly why we’re relying on you to live vicariously through,” Bella said, giving you a pointed look. “And what do we get? A middle-school hallway kiss. I mean, come on.”

You groaned again, though this time you were laughing despite yourself. “You two are impossible.”

Steph grinned. “You love us.”

“Debatable,” you muttered, though your smile gave you away.

The teasing continued for another few minutes, with Bella and Steph tossing out increasingly ridiculous suggestions for how you could “improve” your next kiss with Dean. By the time you finally escaped to your office under the guise of needing to review your afternoon schedule, you felt both exasperated and oddly lighter. They may have been impossible, but they were your impossible—always ready to tease, push, and support you in equal measure.

As you closed your office door and leaned back against it, the memory of the kiss resurfaced, unbidden but not unwelcome. It might not have been the steamy, earth-shattering moment Bella and Steph had been hoping for, but it had been… something. A spark. A promise.

And deep down, you knew you wanted more.

The phone rang just as you were settling back at your desk, still smiling faintly from the ridiculousness of Bella and Steph’s earlier antics. You reached for it, expecting it to be Becky with an update on your schedule or perhaps an international call you’d been waiting on. But the name flashing across the screen made you pause.

Ryan.

Your older brother never called during the day unless something was important—or, more likely, because Bella or Steph had stirred up some sort of nonsense. You sighed, bracing yourself, and hit the green button.

“Hey, Ryan,” you said casually, leaning back in your chair. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” he repeated, his voice laced with a suspicious drawl that immediately made your stomach sink. “You tell me, Madam President. Or should I say, kissing champion of the White House?”

Your heart stopped for a moment, and then you groaned loudly, pressing your free hand to your forehead. “Oh, for the love of—how do you even know about that?”

“Bella,” he said simply, the word landing like a punchline. “She called me, giddy, might I add, and filled me in on all the juicy details. Well, what little details there were. Seems like you’re not one to kiss and tell, huh?”

You closed your eyes, wishing you could teleport through the phone to strangle your sister-in-law. “Bella has a very loose interpretation of the word ‘juicy.’”

Ryan laughed, and you could practically hear his grin through the phone. “So, it’s true then?”

“Do I even have the option of denying it at this point?”

“Not really,” he admitted cheerfully. “But you should probably know she gave me a full rundown. Apparently, you and this Dean guy have some kind of slow-burn tension, and she’s ‘living for it.’ Her words, not mine.”

You sighed, slumping forward against your desk. “I’m going to kill her.”

“She’ll probably make it worth your while by live-streaming her death on Instagram,” he said, clearly amused. “But more importantly—do I need to grill this guy? Or beat him up?”

You snorted despite yourself. “First of all, I’m the President of the United States. You can’t just go around beating up my bodyguard.”

“Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t,” Ryan said, his tone suddenly serious. “You’re my little sister. I don’t care if he’s a decorated Secret Service agent or a Marine—if he’s messing with you, I’ll set him straight.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the protective note in his voice. Ryan had always been like this—teasing and sarcastic most of the time, but fiercely loyal when it came to family. “Relax,” you said. “Dean’s not messing with me. He’s… fine.”

“Fine, huh?” Ryan said, dragging the word out in a way that made you roll your eyes. “That’s not exactly reassuring. You’re gonna have to give me more than that.”

“What do you want me to say?” you asked, exasperated. “He’s smart, he’s loyal, and he saved my life—more than once. I trust him completely.”

“Uh-huh.” Ryan’s voice was skeptical. “And what about the kissing part? That part seems a little outside his job description.”

Your cheeks heated at the memory of Dean’s lips on yours, the brief but intense moment of connection that had left you reeling. “It was… it just happened,” you said, your voice quieter now. “I wasn’t planning it, and neither was he. It just… felt right.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and you could almost hear Ryan processing your words. Finally, he sighed. “You sound serious about this guy.”

“I don’t know what I am,” you admitted, the weight of your feelings suddenly pressing down on you. “It’s complicated, Ryan. I’m the President, and he’s my bodyguard. This kind of thing isn’t exactly… simple.”

“Well, you’ve never done anything the simple way,” Ryan said, his voice softening. “Look, I don’t know this Dean guy, but if he’s good to you—and I mean really good to you—then I’m not gonna stand in your way. Just promise me you’ll be careful, okay?”

“I will,” you said, smiling faintly. “Thanks, Ryan.”

“Anytime,” he said, his tone brightening. “But seriously, if he steps out of line, let me know. I’ll fly down there and take care of it.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good. Now, go do some presidential stuff or whatever. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Later,” you said, hanging up the phone with a shake of your head.

As you set the phone down, you found yourself thinking about what Ryan had said. You didn’t know exactly what was happening between you and Dean, but one thing was clear: it wasn’t going away anytime soon. And maybe—just maybe—that wasn’t such a bad thing.

TAGLIST:

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[merp-blerp]

A Gaylor/Kaylor Interpretation of "Maroon" Because It's Galentine's Day ❤️

Overblown Analysis Under the Cut ↓

One of my favorite things to do in my song analyses has become trying to think outside the box. For this interpretation of "Maroon", I've decided to play with an idea I had about this being from Karlie's perspective, as I don't think I've seen that before (I might've, sorry if I've accidentally copied someone). It's also just fun. I tend to see songs in multiple ways, so it's always fun to play around.

"When the morning came we were cleaning incense off your vinyl shelf // 'Cause we lost track of time again // Laughing with my feet in your lap // Like you were my closest friend // "How'd we end up on the floor anyway?" You say // "Your roommate's cheap-ass screw-top rosé, that's how" // I see you every day now"

The song opens with Kar and Tay cleaning up after a night of being up together. It could've been a sexual night or a night of talking. Either way, they've ended up laughing on the floor with Karlie's feet in Taylor's lap. The word "friend" in Taylor's music was kept fairly platonic pre-1989. After that, starting with "Blank Space", or more importantly, "You Are In Love", friend gets used differently. Suddenly "friend" can also be a word attached to a lover too. Here Tay as Karlie says "like you were my closest friend." As the song continues we know that the subjects of this song are more than friends. Karlie and Taylor were of course slated as best friends from their first public meeting, but there's plenty of speculation about them being more than that. The imagery here sounds like a sleepover, and it would probably look like such if an outsider were to see them, but it's only "like" because they are more than that. Similar to how the subjects in "INTHAF" are clearly married by the end, but still get called "friend".

Karlie had a room in Taylor's apartment by Sep. 2014, so they were roommates. They see each other every day. It can be debated on exactly which line is said by who, so to keep it simple I'm going to say that Taylor asked, "How'd we end up on the floor anyway?" and Karlie responded, "Your roommate's cheap-ass screw-top rosé, that's how" (just because that's how the line is formed, but I usually hear it the other way around). The person replying, "Your roommate's cheap-ass screw-top rosé" is speaking about themselves in the third person to be humorous and disparage the cheap wine.

It's interesting how much specifically cheap wine gets brought up with Kaylor. It appears in "Paris" too. Why cheap wine when they can afford really good wine? Maybe they just like cheap wine. Or it could be a metaphor. In my analysis of "ILIPW", I talk about the out queers having nice wine and how Taylor and her lover have to be closeted with the cheap wine. So, cheap wine is a metaphor for the meager things that can come from closeting. What you get is passable, but you could have something better.

"And I chose you // The one I was dancin' with // In New York, no shoes"

"In New York, no shoes," is a clear reference to "Barefoot in the kitchen // Sacred new beginnings" from "Cornelia Street". It also seems to be a reference to the Vogue photoshoot, one photo in the set (4/10 in the link) being Karlie and Taylor barefoot in a trailer kitchen as Taylor plays the guitar like they could be dancing. Both lines also seem to call back to "We're dancing 'round the kitchen in the refrigerator light" from "ATW". While I do think Karlie has songs on Red, like "Begin Again" (as someone who currently thinks they've been together since at least 2012), I don't think "ATW" or "ATW10" is about Karlie in any way. So why would it be referenced in either song? I see both references as Taylor, through her own lens, and here (in this analysis) through Karlie's, comparing the "ATW" lover with Kar and how better Kar is. To get all metaphorical with it, dancing in the refrigerator light, while it can be and has been romanticized, it’s also, in the traditional sense, unromantic, strange, and artificial. And "ATW" is ultimately a breakup song. Whoever the "ATW" muse is, they didn't fulfill Taylor like Karlie did. In the lines from this, "Cornelia Street", and even the photoshoot, no longer is there any artificial refrigerator light, just dancing. Kaylor's love is not unromantic, strange, and artificial. I personally don't have any official guess as to who the "ATW" muse is at the moment because my "expertise" lie with Kaylor and the later part of Taylor’s career (Rep and onward). I don't mind the conventional idea that it was Jake one way or another, since I believe Taylor thought she was bi till the early 2020s and Jake is associated with trauma I personally wouldn't want to "explain away" incase it happened (same with John). But especially if Jake was a beard, his love wouldn't be as fulfilling for Taylor as Karlie's.

"Looked up at the sky and it was"

Either Karlie or both she and Taylor look up and see the sky. We aren't told immediately yet, but later verses say that the sky is maroon. A maroon sky to me is either the sun rising or setting. Since the song begins with the morning coming in and time going by, I'll go with the sun setting here. It setting goes particularly well with what I think this song's about. While I can't find it, I once saw an interesting take on the red sky signifying the 2016 election, Trump's win, and how in New York the huge LED screens in NYC would've glowed red while showing his republican win. This is a really cool take on the lyric and makes sense, as, while I don't know tons of details about this supposed theory, I feel like I've heard about theories regarding a canceled coming out plan from 2016 due to the election results. I won't be fully stealing that for this analysis, but it's cool to keep in mind as a potential factor.

The maroon sky is the sun setting. Taylor has used summer and daylight as metaphors for being out. But for whatever reason the coming out plan hasn't happened, so the sun sets. The sparkling summer's gone. I'll go more into the choice of maroon with Karlie later.

"The burgundy on my T-shirt when you splashed your wine into me // And how the blood rushed into my cheeks, so scarlet, it was // The mark they saw on my collarbone, the rust that grew between telephones // The lips I used to call home, so scarlet, it was maroon"

For starters, I think a lot of us know of the theory that all the colors in this chorus list the colors of the Emily Gwen lesbian flag backward. Very cool, and I'll add to why I think it does later. But let's see what this means for Kaylor specifically.

Spilled wine could definitely call back to the infamous "buzzcut" from the 2016 MET Gala and Taylor spilling wine in "Dress". The mark on the collarbone could be a "funjuries" reference; The most relevant to this song would be a funjury incident with Karlie having a mark on her lower neck after her last public interaction with Taylor. "The rust that grew between telephones" could be a reference to the love blackout and the lockdown of Taylor and Karlie's public relationship, having to act like they're strangers and not talk publicly. Taylor's music and phones could also be callbacks to Reputation, Fearless, and Speak Now; Rep is usually seen as Karlie's album unanimously and I think Speak Now holds the first Kaylor song, "Enchanted", so that might be something. For Fearless, Taylor had just met Kar at the Young Hollywood Awards a few days before debuting "Love Story" at CMA Country Music Fest in 2008, and "Cruel Summer" is essentially a Kaylor version of "Love Story" with all the parallels of secrecy, running away, and gardens. They also both did Romeo and Juliet-themed things in 2008. The lips the narrator used to call home are described as scarlet. While this could work for either woman, Taylor is known for her red lips. This is also another callback to Red and its original cover.

I saw an interpretation forever ago about "so scarlet, it was maroon" meaning "so forbidden it was abandoned", which makes the most sense, since a color can't actually be so bright red it becomes a darker red. It's likely metaphorical. Because of the story, The Scarlet Letter, the color scarlet can mean a forbidden shame. And the word maroon is a homophone; spelled the same way, maroon can be a color and it can be someone who is trapped and isolated.

Karlie seems to be going over her and Taylor's history, ending with their love being so forbidden from the public eye, that it's isolated from it, only private.

"When the silence came, we were shaking blind and hazy // How the hell did we lose sight of us again? // Sobbin' with your head in your hands // Ain't that the way shit always ends?"

Both Karlie and Taylor seem stunned into silence for whatever trouble has transpired, whether it'd be the election, the master heist and failed coming out, or just emotional unwellness. How the hell did they come to suffer again? The events have left Taylor sobbing, an unfortunately repeating occurrence. This line reminds me of "But you awaken with dread // Pounding nails in your head // But I've read this one where you come undone" from "TTPD", another song commonly thought of as Karlie's POV. Because of this and my LSK-ness, I don't see this as a breakup song at all, just a song about struggling with the marooned nature of their relationship.

"You were standin' hollow-eyed in the hallway // Carnations you had thought were roses, that's us // I feel you no matter what // The rubies that I gave up"

A lot of people have seen the parallel with this line and "Now, you're runnin' down the hallway" from "YLM". I acknowledge that some see "YLM" as another song from Karlie's perspective, but I personally don't, I see it as a song about bad fans and closeting. So why the correlation? I think it's notable that Taylor and the fans are very different in the hallway. Taylor stands while the fans run. To me it seems like, through whatever distress she's going through, Taylor stands stiff, meanwhile, the fans are running rampant. In my "Champagne Problems" analysis, bad fans "deck the halls" through Taylor's work, decorating it however they want. I think these lines are similar. Karlie knows Taylor is tired in the halls that are no longer decorated the way she wants.

In a literal sense, Taylor seemingly confused carnations with roses. Maybe in her mentally exhausted state? I typically see others take this line as the other person giving the narrator flowers as some kind of apology, but the song only mentions carnations existing, never saying they're being given to anyone. It's more likely that they either metaphorically or literally decor the house their in, my guess in the hallway. Or better yet, Karlie is describing her relationship with Taylor as like a carnation Taylor thought were roses. In my Arial and Belle theory, I talk about this line and Kar and Tay's love not being seen as a normal love, like a rose, but different, like a carnation. To add to that, I see Midnights as Taylor grappling with comphet after reading Untamed by Glennon Doyle. Karlie says that they are carnations Taylor thought were roses. Taylor thought she could achieve a rose, or a hetero relationship, probably thinking the same for Karlie for at least a while (i.e. "2 AM, who do you love?" in "Enchanted" as Taylor wonders if Karlie's queer or not. And "James" saying "Plus, I saw you dance with him" thinking "Betty" was with a guy). But no. They are carnations. Different from the "normal" love. So, being a "carnation", Karlie feels Taylor no matter what. Carnations are a queer flower. Lots of people know about green carnations being a queer flag for gay men, but according to a quote from Diana Souhami in this article, white carnations did the same for lesbians (Yes, her name's Diana, hehe). And as a cherry on top, there’s also Taylor as a carnation in the “I Bet You Think About Me” MV and Karlie as a rose at the 2021 MET Gala. Taylor, in the MV, is a carnation, taunting the man and lovingly giving the bride her scarf. Karlie posed as a rose in public at the Gala.

"The rubies that I gave up" is a particularly fun line for me here because of my Oz theories. To put it simply here, Karlie is typically seen as representing Dorothy in Taylor's music and I theorize that Taylor herself is Ozma, which is cool because Dorothy and Ozma are often seen as lesbians. In Return to Oz, Dorothy gives Ozma her ruby slippers before returning to Kansas, but Ozma plans with Dorothy to use the ruby slippers to get Dorothy back to Oz when they want. So, Karlie/Dorothy gave up her rubies for the grey Kansas, the love blackout.

"And I lost you // The one I was dancin' with // In New York, no shoes // Looked up at the sky and it was maroon // The burgundy on my T-shirt when you splashed your wine into me // And how the blood rushed into my cheeks, so scarlet, it was (maroon) // The mark you saw on my collarbone, the rust that grew between telephones // The lips I used to call home, so scarlet, it was (maroon)"

So if Kaylor's still together, what does "I lost you" mean here? I see the loss as more metaphorical. Karlie lost her public relationship with Taylor in the love lockdown. I also want to note that "I lost you" parallels with "Cornelia Street", "YLM", "loml", and "TGW". For the latter three, I see all those songs as about the master heist and love lockdown for similar reasons I do this one. During Lover, Taylor hoped that she'd never have to lose Karlie thanks to coming out, but that didn't happen and the love stayed locked down. But Taylor only briefly thought she lost Karlie according to "TGW". She didn't lose their relationship in my opinion, but the pain of the master heist is still present in "loml" because of course it is. Even just career-wise, to have your body of work stolen would destroy any artist emotionally. But your freedom the way you planned it? Yeah...

"And I wake with your memory over me // That's a real fucking legacy, legacy (it was maroon) // And I wake with your memory over me // That's a real fucking legacy to leave"

The actual circumstances of the love blackout aren't clear to us fans. Do they secretly see each other all the time like any committed couple? Does it have to be like a long-distance relationship? Who's to say other than them? Karlie could literally have to wake up with Taylor's memory if she doesn't see her "every day" now, or she could just wake up with the memories of them having a public relationship.

To finally put all the pieces together, why "maroon" for a Karlie-coded song? Isn't Karlie usually seen as the "Golden" muse? Yes, but looking at it from Karlie's perspective, this song could be like an extended version of the line, "And maybe it's the past that's talkin' // Screamin' from the crypt // Tellin' me to punish you for things you never did // So I justified it" from "TGW". Maybe, post everything that went wrong after 2019, or hell, maybe post-2016, Taylor went into the "self-sabotage mode" mentioned in "TTPD". I currently think "TTPD" might be describing some more recent "episode", Karlie saying she's seen it before like it's common for Taylor, but this and "TGW" (and maybe other songs) could've been a past episode(s).

Taylor's talked about the situation that inspired Red being hard for her. The sky being maroon could signify the rust of the sparkling summer and the sun setting, but what if, deeper, it was about whatever baggage Taylor carried over from what inspired Red? Having a spot in Red, Karlie knows what happened and sees the sky metaphorically turn red again for Taylor, the past screaming from the crypt. This could especially be the case if the Red muse was Jake, a man, and Taylor by the 2020s was understanding that she was a lesbian and not bi, judging by the flagging. It's like the story told by the Eras Miami Surprise Song Dresses. Tay thought she was bi, but around the time of her possibly reading Untamed, Taylor was re-recording and likely thinking about the past beardings/boyfriends and coming to terms with that, the master heist, the love blackout, and the failed coming out, so comphet being the cherry on top? I probably would go into "self-sabotage mode" too just because it's a lot at once. That's why this song goes through the eras Karlie was at least a little involved with, Fearless, Speak Now, Red, 1989, Rep, Lover, Folkmore, and finally (for that time) Midnights. And why the lesbian flag colors are intertwined with their past. Because Taylor, through Karlie's eyes in this song, is grappling with being a lesbian and leaving comphet behind, with all the emotional highs and lows. "Maybe, when the clock strikes twelve... we'll meet ourselves" (from the Midnights announcement post). No wonder this was one of Taylor's most-played surprise songs—I'm half shocked it didn't make the setlist.

She was in a violet blood-soaked gown trying to figure herself out with her lover there for her.

Thanks for reading!

[sexymonstersupercreep]

Top 16 Favorite Film Gowns

Blue

~~ The Revolt of Mamie Stover (1956) ~~ Dangerous Liaisons (1988) ~~ Song Without End (1960) ~~ Mirror Mirror (2012) ~~ Elizabeth: The Golden Age (2007) ~~ Interview With the Vampire (1994) ~~ The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (2003) ~~ Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953) ~~ Love Me or Leave Me (1955) ~~ Donkey Skin (1970) ~~ The Barefoot Contessa (1954) ~~ La Belle et la Bete (2014) ~~ Ophelia (2018) ~~ Devdas (2002) ~~ House of Flying Daggers (2004) ~~ Crimson Peak (2015) ~~

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Audubon:

The night of June 10 was warm, but not too much so. After days of rain, Concord, Massachusetts, wrung itself dry. The moon edged toward fullness. Rarely in need of an excuse to wander, Henry David Thoreau took it anyway. He followed Concord’s train tracks out of town and into a moonlit meadow. There, he encountered an iconic bird of the United States: the Eastern Whip-poor-will.

With their cryptic plumage and nocturnal habits, Eastern Whip-poor-wills are rarely seen, but the male’s loud, rhythmic songis hard to miss. Thoreau heard them that evening—five or six at once. A few nights later, when the moon was full, he encountered a dozen or more. “Perhaps this is the Whip-poor-will’s Moon,” he wrote in his journal in 1851.

Into the early 20th century, whip-poor-wills were sheer magic to those who inhabited their breeding range and awaited the species’ return each April and May. An important seasonal sign, the first whip-poor-will’s call signaled an end to frosts and marked the moment to plant sensitive crops, like corns and beans. Farmers let cattle out to pasture. Children knew they could play outside barefoot.

Quirkier and more personal rituals developed around their appearance. One could make a wish on his song, roll on the ground three times for a year without backpain, or shake a pocket full of coins for a year of financial success. Some people believed the repetitions of his name, which he can sing for many hours, predicted how many years they would live or, if they were unmarried, how many until they’d wed. In an article that circulated widely in 1941 and 1942, the United Press reported that an Alabama man—known to friends and family as “Uncle Rip”—waited to have one of his two annual haircuts until whip-poor-wills returned.

The whip-poor-wills’ tune was also part of the nation’s emotional landscape. To 19th century poets, whip-poor-wills might sound mournful, plaintive, and grieving. To John James Audubon, the “cheering voice” of the whip-poor-will was his “only companion�� on nights alone in the woods. Others heard the sound of loneliness. When Hank Williams wanted to convey that emotion, he sang of a whip-poor-will who “sounds too blue to fly” in his often-covered 1949 classic, “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry.”

Yet in the decades since Williams belted those classic opening lines, much has changed for the whip-poor-will—and for our own relationship with the species.

While many kinds of birds are experiencing population declines, whip-poor-wills are especially vulnerable to habitat loss, pesticide use, loss of prey, car strikes, and predation. Ornithologists estimate that the Eastern Whip-poor-will population decreased by nearly 70 percent between 1970 and 2014. But their decline may have begun sooner. After World War II, agricultural and suburban development swallowed great swaths of woodlands. As early as the 1950s, writers like Knoxville News-Sentinel’s Lucy Templeton, whose “A Country Calendar” often included reports and lore about whip-poor-wills, worried over their disappearance from local landscapes.

We’ve changed, too. Many people moved away from the rural towns where they grew up amid birdsong. In the suburbs that replaced bird habitats, we homogenized landscapes with decorative plants unwelcoming to whip-poor-wills. If whip-poor-wills seemed to abandon our world, we also abandoned theirs.

To describe the human consequences of species decline, the lepidopterist Robert Michael Pyle coined the term “extinction of experience,” an ecological insight gained through his own moments of loss. 

[cinemaocd]

Jenny's ongoing list of films watched 2024

January

RRR (2023)*

Peter's Friends (1992)*

The Lady Eve (1941)

How to Get a Head in Advertising (1988)*

High Fidelity (2000)

Frieda (1947)*

Oh...Rosalinda! (1955)

The Quick and the Dead (1995)*

The Barefoot Contessa (1954)*

The Life and Death of Col. Blimp (1943) Commentary Track (2012)*

Rhubarb (1951)*

The Birds (1963)*

House of Yes (1997)*

Cassandra Cat (1963)*

Foreign Correspondent (1940)

The Long Goodbye (1973)

Night of the Comet (1984)

The Day the Earth Caught Fire (1961)*

For Me and My Gal (1942)*

The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014)

The Small, Back Room (1949)

House of Games (1987)

Water (1985)*

The Ballad of John and Yoko (2023)*

The Meaning of Life (1983)

Track 29 (1988)*

*New to me

Thoughts on the New to Me films:

New Year's Eve we watched RRR, a lot of fun, energetic, bright and action-packed. I enjoyed the way that little attention was given to the British characters. They were straight up villains in ill fitting ahistorical costumes, kind of like the way Indian/Asian characters are treated in Western films most of the time...$$$

New Year's Day we watched Peter's Friends, a drama/comedy from the early 90s starring all of the famous Cambridge Footlights. Big Chill-ish film set in a country house over the Christmas holidays. $$$

How to Get a Head in Advertising was weird and also really good. Had a similar vibe to Withnail and I (possibly because of Richard E. Grant, but also possibly the mixture of the surreal with the realistic). Quite stage-y in some ways but clever and savage in it's satire of life in the 80s. $$$

Frieda: Oh I loved this! Weird World War II melodrama about a German girl marrying a British boy and all the trouble it causes with his complex family situation. Such a stellar cast including the late, great Glynnis Johns. $$$$

The Quick and the Dead: I set my expectations quite low for this and was pleasantly surprised. I liked Sam Raimi's comic book-y take on gunfighters and esp. loved Sharon Stone's character. We love to see a female action hero with no love interest. A nice twist on the Man with no Name trope. Excellent cast as well with Russell Crowe, Gene Hackman, Roy Scheider and Woody Stroud in his final film. $$$

The Barefoot Contessa: Joseph Mankewitcz is one of the geniuses of old Hollywood but this ain't it, chief. Just kind of all of the place melodrama that makes no sense and relies too much on Ava Gardner looking amazing in technicolor in the South of France. A bit of a commentary on Grace Kelly who a few years earlier married minor royalty on the Riviera. Even Rossano Brazzi can't save this mess for me. $

Rhubarb: Two genres I usually kind of hate (family-friendly animal centered film, sports film) combined into one and it's actually a lot of fun. Ray Milland and a bunch of classic character actors as the baseball team (also Leonard Nemoy has a tiny part as a mobster) in this slight/ predictable romp. $$

The Birds: Woah, shit this was good. I should have known. Amazing tension created and Hitchcock just sells the surreal horror with lots of rear projection...so. much. rear. projection. $$$

House of Yes: How about House of NOPE. Ugh what a mess this was. Some good performances and intriguing story, but it was very stagey and I don't know why the 90s couldn't make a story about adult children and their parents without reducing everyone to cliches and stereotypes but this and Six Degrees of Separation are definitely guilty of that, but the latter is just a better film. $

Cassandra Cat: Takes a long time to get to the cat which given that this was a family film from the 60s might be a problem for some viewers, expecting a more cat-centric movie. Interesting riff on fairy tales from the Czech New Wave. Beautiful Demy-esque technicolor and settings make this 60s nonsense fly by. $$

The Day the Earth Caught Fire: 60s nuclear panic disaster film that really just shows the earth as it is now in the throws of global warming. Yikes. Thoughtfully written and well acted by a bunch of folks I'd never heard of. $$

For Me and My Gal: Directed by Busby Berkley and starring Gene Kelly and Judy Garland and set in the 1920s on the Vaudeville circuit, I was expecting a lot more fun, dancing, color, costumes etc. This is actually more of a black and white war time melodrama with some music shoved into it and the dancing is very rudimentary. (I think this is probably because Garland esp. at this stage wasn't in the same league with Gene Kelly and I think it would have been too noticable...). Filmed at the entry of America into WW2 this was quite a deliberate propaganda piece. $$

TLADOCB Commentary: I've watched this movie 20 times at least but the commentary really made me think about a bunch of things differently. Can't say I recommend unless you are fanatic though as it's obviously pieced together from interviews Michael Powell and Martin Scorcese $$

Water (1985): If you smoke the exact right strain of sativa and ignore some of the more dated aspects of this 80s comedy, that reads as if Local Hero were a Cheech and Chong film--this is a total classic. Irreverent Michael Caine just straight up breaking character the minute he turns into a guerilla fighter in the jungle and being far too competent and cool, and then snapping back to sweetly shy, inept British Civil Servant, finding he actually loves his hated backwater post (the invent Casara part Caribbean, part Devon Jurassic Coast) while having to actually do his job. Political satire and fully both barrels to Maggie Thatcher and Reagan. Good on em. Filmed in St. Lucia, the movie has a zany heart and little taste, hoovering up vast quantities of competent TV players from my youth: Herman Munster and Reginald Perrin to name but two. Awkward love story and some uneven acting from Valerie Perrin and Brenda Vaccaro. I enjoyed myself, heartily, anyway. $$$

The Ballad of John and Yoko: Technically a video essay with amazing production values (the licensing alone was epic) dragging together disparate topics around the central theme of women being blamed for bad things happening to infantalized male geniuses. Is it the most coherent argument? No. Does it absolutely tap into many unexpressed or implied ideas that have been floating around since me too? Absolutely. $$

Track 29: This was some of the worst casting I've ever seen in a film. When I think of Texas nurse who is into trains and spanking, I don't automatically think of comedian Sandra Bernhardt. When I think of an actress of that era who was old enough to play Gary Oldman's mother, I don't think of Theresa Russell who is the same age as Oldman and looked every bit as young as he did in the film. Maybe that was the point? I'm not sure. The story was weird, like a Southern Gothic melodrama/black comedy ala Flannery O'Connor, but there was something off about the whole thing.

[arinzechukwuture]

15 𝙄𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙁𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙨 𝘼𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙀𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙖🇪🇹

1. The Ethiopian 🇪🇹 calendar is different from the Gregorian calendar. There are thirteen months in the Ethiopian calendar, which means they are currently in 2014.

2. Ethiopians 🇪🇹 also measure the hours of a day to a different schedule based on the logic that the clock starts when the day does. Ethiopia, however, observes 13 calendar months per year. This makes the Ethiopian calendar 7 years behind the rest of the world.

3. Ethiopia 🇪🇹 is the only African country never to have been brought under colonial rule. The Itàlians tried but failed woefully and were defeated by the solid Ethiopian forces.

4. Ethiopia 🇪🇹 has the world's 0ldest Bible and the most unique.

5. Ethiopia 🇪🇹 is home to one of the world's best coffee. In fact, coffee production is huge in Ethiopia.

6. According to some archaeological findings, Ethiopia 🇪🇹 is the cradle of humànkind. Meaning lifè actually started in Ethiopia.

7. In 1960, an Ethiopian named Abebe Bikila became the first Black African to win gold in the Olympics. He won it by running barefoot.

8. Addis Ababa's name translates to ‘New Flower’ in Amharic. The city is one of the oldest cities in the world.

9. Ethiopia 🇪🇹 is home to some of the world's tastiest, healthiest and most diverse cuisines on the continent of Africa.

10. The biggest festival in Ethiopia, Timket, is a three-day annual festival that honours the baptism of Jesus Christ in the river Jordan. It's one of the world's largest festivals that takes place annually. The festival attracts millions of people from all over the world.

11. Ethiopia 🇪🇹 has the most UNESCO World Heritage Sites on the continent. Ethiopia takes first place as the African country with the most UNESCO World Heritage sites. There are 9 total ranging from religious sites to natural areas. Among them are the Simien National Park, Konso Cultural Landscape and the rock-hewn churches.

12. Over 80 languages are spoken in Ethiopia. There are over 80 languages spoken with English being the language of educational systems in addition to local languages which include Oromo, Amharic, Somali and Tigrinya.

13. Over half of Africa’s mountains are in Ethiopia 🇪🇹 Along with Ethiopia’s incredible cultural and historical significance, the natural beauty is in a league of its own. In addition to a gorgeous landscape of low desserts and volcanic plateaus, Ethiopia is incredibly mountainous. In fact, around 70% of Africa’s mountains are in Ethiopia.

14. Ethiopia 🇪🇹 is Africa’s oldest country. Originally founded in 980 BC, Ethiopia is the oldest independent nation on the continent. Additionally, Ethiopia has remnants of some of the most ancient human beings on earth dating back millions of years making it one of the most important archaeological areas in the world. Not only that, but it is the second most populated country with more than 106 million people.

15. Ethiopia 🇪🇹 is the only country in the world with its own unique Alphabet.

[haveyoureadthisbook-poll]

[sunflowerhoney]

5, 7, 16, 22, 29, 36, 49, 50, 62, 77, 83 :)

5. Tell us some funny drunk story.

I honestly have only been drunk a few times (I have anxiety so the feeling is scary lol) but I remember being drunk for the first time ever on NYE in I think 2014? I somehow ended up barefoot in my friends front yard (in the freezing cold in January lmao) and then went to sleep on the floor in this random room that had a bunny my friend was babysitting in it??

7. If you had to choose one way to die, what would it be?

In my sleep of old age after experiencing very minimal medical issues 😅

16. Would you get a tattoo?

I actually have one (a cat with a butterfly on my left forearm, including a pic from when I first got it for funsies) and would love to get more!!!

22. Is life fun?

Generally speaking I would say yes, I enjoy my life and my little routines. I feel like overall life is fun with some hard/difficult stuff sprinkled in.

29. Dumbest lie you ever told?

When I was like 18 or 19 I lied to my mom about where I was going w a friend so I could meet up with someone I knew from online, this was such a stupid and unsafe thing to do because I literally drove w my friend all the way from New Jersey to South Carolina to meet up w someone I barely knew in a place I’d literally never been (do not do this kids!!!), thankfully I was fine but looking back with a more developed brain I’m like damn that could’ve been really bad lmao

36. What would you name your daughter/son?

Ahhh we’re giving away our naming secrets lol buuuuut July or August, Juniper, Clementine, Luca, orrrrr Holland

49. Is there something in the past you wish you hadn’t done?

TW but starting self harming, it was a big struggle for me from high school pretty much all the way through my 20s and am just now starting to find better ways to cope with my emotions

50. Post a selfie.

One of these is technically not a selfie but it is @theog-greenbutch’s favorite picture of me (it’s from our wedding after party!!) and they insisted I include it hehehe 🥰

62. How long was your longest relationship?

A bit longer than 5 years (from 2015 to early 2021)

77. Favourite TV series?

Agatha All Along, Ratched, Wandavision, Killing Eve and Grace & Frankie!

83. McDonalds or Subway?

I honestly like both lol but if I had to pick I’d say McDonalds, I worked at subway in college so sometimes I get the ick 😅

Thank you so much for asking!!!! :)

[lisalou22]

The ability to make and understand puns is considered to be the highest level of language development. Here are the top ten winners in the 2014 International Pun Contest:

I had to share these

1. A vulture boards an airplane carrying two dead raccoons. The flight attendant looks at him and says, "I'm sorry, sir, only one carrion allowed per passenger."

2. Two fish swim into a concrete wall. One turns to the other and says, "Dam!"

3. Two Eskimos sitting in a kayak were chilly, so they lit a fire in the craft. Unsurprisingly it sank, proving once again that you can't have your kayak and heat it too.

4. Two hydrogen atoms meet. One says, "I've lost my electron." The other says, "Are you sure?" The first replies, "Yes, you know I'm positive."

5. Did you hear about the Buddhist who refused Novocain during a root canal? His goal: Transcend Dental Medication.

6. A group of chess enthusiasts checked into a hotel and were standing in the lobby discussing their recent tournament victories. After about an hour, the manager came out of the office and asked them to disperse. "But why?" they asked. "Because," he replied, "I can't stand chess-nuts boasting in an open foyer."

7. A woman delivers a set of identical twins and decides to give them up for adoption. One of them goes to a family in Egypt, and they name him "Ahmal." The other goes to a family in Spain, and they name him "Juan." Years later, Juan sends a picture of himself to his birth mother. Upon receiving the picture, she tells her husband that she wishes she also had a picture of Ahmal. Her husband responds, "They're twins...if you've seen Juan, you've seen "Ahmal."

8. A group of friars were behind on their belfry payments, so they opened up a small florist shop to raise funds. Since everyone liked to buy flowers from the men of God, a rival florist thought the competition was unfair. He asked the good friars to close down, but they would not. He went back and begged the friars to close. Again they ignored him. So, the rival florist hired Hugh MacTaggart, the roughest and most vicious thug in town to "persuade" the friars to close. Hugh beat up the friars and trashed their store, saying he'd be back if they didn't close up shop. Terrified, they did so.....thereby proving that only Hugh can prevent florist friars.

9. Mahatma Gandhi, as you know, walked barefoot most of the time, which produced an impressive set of calluses on his feet. He also ate very little, which made him rather frail and, with his odd diet, he suffered from bad breath. This made him (Oh, dude, this is SO bad, it's good....) a super calloused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis.

10. And finally, there was the person who sent ten different puns to friends, with the hope that at least one of the puns would make them laugh. No pun in ten did.

[timelesstimesgoneby]

All Disney animals I can think of but I'm not including any Disney animated cannon or anything connect to that universe and same with Pixar because of cars universe please add anymore in the comments section

Ducktales 1987–1990

Chip 'n' Dale Rescue Rangers

1988–1990

Mickey's Christmas Carol 1983 G 26m

A Goofy Movie 1995 G 1h 18m

Mickey, Donald, Goofy: The Three Musketeers 2004 G 1h 7m

Many Adventures Of Winnie The Pooh G 1977 1h 14m

Pooh's Grand Adventure: The Search For Christopher Robin 1997 G 1h 16m

The Tigger Movie 2000 G 1h 17min

Piglet's Big Movie 2003 G 1h 29m

Winnie The Pooh: Springtime With Roo 2004 G 1h 5min

Pooh's Heffalump Movie 2005 1h 8m

Pooh's Heffalump Halloween Movie 2005 G 1h 7m

Winnie The Pooh 2011 G 1h 3min

Christopher Robin 2018 Pg 1h 43m

Dr Dolittle 1967 Nr 2h 32m

1. Ice Age 2002 Pg 81 Min

2. Robots 2005 Pg 91 Min

3 Ice Age: The Meltdown 2006 Pg 91 Min

4 Horton Hears A Who! 2008 G 86 Min

5 Ice Age: Dawn Of The Dinosaurs 2009 Pg 94 Min

6 Rio 2011 G 96 Min

7 Ice Age: Continental Drift 2012 Pg 88 Min

8 Epic 2013 Pg 102 Min

9 Rio 2 2014 G 101 Min

10 The Peanuts Movie 2015 G 88 Min

11 Ice Age: Collision Course 2016 Pg 94 Min

Alvin And The Chipmunks 2007 Pg 1h 32m

Night At The Museum: Secret Of The Tomb 2014 Pg 1h 38m

Snow Dogs 2002 Pg 1h 42m

White Fang 1991 Pg 1h 47min

White Fang 2: Myth Of The White Wolf 1994 Pg 1h 46min

The Call Of The Wild 2020 Pg 1h 40min

Iron Will (1994)

Eight Below 2006 Pg 2h

Secretariat (2010) Pg 2h 3m Go

We Bought A Zoo Pg 2011 2h 11m

1. The Crimson Wing: Mystery Of The Flamingos (G, 2008)

2. Oceans

2. African Cats

3. Chimpanzee (G, 2012, 1h 18m)

4. Bears (G, 2014, 1h 18m)

5. Monkey Kingdom (2015, 1h 21m)

20,000 Leagues Under The Sea (1954) G 2h 7m

Swiss Family Robinson 1960 G 2h 6min

The Absent Minded Professor 1961 Son Of Flubber

1962 1h 42m

Sammy, The Way-Out Seal 1962

The Incredible Journey 1963 G 1h 20min

A Tiger Walks G 1964 1h 31m

Moon Pilot 1962 1h 38m

Rocketman 1997 Pg 1h 35min

The Barefoot Executive 1971 G 1h 36m

Monkeys, Go Home! 1967 G 1h 41min

The Misadventures Of Merlin Jones 1964 G 1h 31 Min

The Monkey's Uncle 1965 1hr 31min

George Of The Jungle 1997 Pg 1h 32min

George Of The Jungle 2 2003 Pg 1h 27min

Charlie, The Lonesome Cougar 1967 G 1h 15min

The Adventures Of Bullwhip Griffin 1967 G 1h 48min

That Darn Cat! 1965 G 1h 56min

That Darn Cat 1997 Pg 1h 29min

The Million Dollar Duck 1971 G 1h 29min

Bedknobs And Broomsticks 1971 G 1h 35m

Snowball Express 1972 G 1h 39m

Superdad 1973 G 1h 36m

Charley And The Angel 1973 G 1h 33m

The Castaway Cowboy (1974) G

The Cat From Outer Space 1978 G 1h 44min

The Hunter And The Rockstar 1980 Nr 60 Min

Disney Classic 4 Movie Collection

Darby O'gill And The Little People 1959 1h 33m

The Gnome-Mobile 1967 1h 24m

The Happiest Millionaire 1967 2h 52m

The One And Only, Genuine, Original Family Band 1968 G 1h 50m

Kurt Russell 4 Movie Collection

The Horse In The Gray Flannel Suit 1968 G 1h 54m

The Computer Wore Tennis Shoes 1969 G 1h 31m

Now You See Him, Now You Don't G 1h 28m

Strongest Man In The World G 1h 35m

Disney Don Knotts 4-Movie Collection

The Apple Dumpling Gang 1975 G 1h 40m

Gus 1976 G 1h 36m

Hot Lead And Cold Feet 1978 G 1h 30m

The Apple Dumpling Gang Rides Again 1979 G 1h 28m

Dogs 1

The Shaggy Dog 1959

The Ugly Dachshund 1966

The Shaggy D.A. 1976

The Shaggy Dog 2006

Dogs 2

Rascal 1969

The Journey Of Natty Gann 1985

Benji The Hunted 1987

Where The Red Fern Grows 2003

[princess-suzanne]

❤️ MOVIE TAGS ❤️  

A

🤍 a bear named winnie (2004) 🤍 a dangerous method (2011) 🤍 a fistful of dollars (1964) 🤍 a most violent year (2014) 🤍 a room with a view (1985) 🤍 a royal affair (2012) 🤍 a streetcar named desire (1951) 🤍 a woman is a woman (1961) 🤍 an education (2009) 🤍 agora (2009) 🤍 all about eve (1950) 🤍 amadeus (1984) 🤍 and god created woman (1956) 🤍 angel (2007) 🤍 anna karenina (1948) 🤍 armageddon time (2022) 🤍 the artist (2011) 🤍 ashes and diamonds (1958) 🤍 atonement (2007)

B

🤍 the banshees of inisherin (2022) 🤍 barefoot in the park (1967) 🤍 the beguiled (2017) 🤍 belle (2013) 🤍 the big sleep (1946) 🤍 the bikeriders (2023) 🤍 the birds (1963) 🤍 bonnie and clyde (1967) 🤍 bram stoker’s dracula (1992) 🤍 breakfast at tiffany’s (1961) 🤍 brokeback mountain (2005) 🤍 brooklyn (2015) 🤍 bugsy (1991) 🤍 butch cassidy and the sundance kid (1969)

C

🤍 cabaret (1972) 🤍 captain america: the first avenger (2011) 🤍 carnival of souls (1962) 🤍 carol (2015) 🤍 casablanca (1942) 🤍 casino (1995) 🤍 cat on a hot tin roof (1958) 🤍 chicago (2002) 🤍 cléo de 5 à 7 (1962) 🤍 cleopatra (1963) 🤍 cria cuervos (1976) 🤍 crimson peak (2015)

D

🤍 daisies (1966) 🤍 dangerous liaisons (1988) 🤍 the danish girl (2015) 🤍 dead poets society (1989) 🤍 the debt (2010) 🤍 dirty dancing (1987) 🤍 don’t bother to knock (1952) 🤍 don’t worry darling (2022) 🤍 dracula (1931) 🤍 the duchess (2008) 🤍 dunkirk (2017)

E

🤍 east of eden (1955) 🤍 the edge of love (2008) 🤍 eileen (2023) 🤍 elizabeth (1998) 🤍 elizabeth: the golden age (2007) 🤍 elvis (2022) 🤍 emma (2020) 🤍 the end of the affair (1999) 🤍 the english patient (1996) 🤍 enola holmes (2020) 🤍 the eyes of tammy faye (2021)

F

🤍 fanny and alexander (1982) 🤍 the favourite (2018) 🤍 for a few dollars more (1965) 🤍 funny girl (1968)

G

🤍 gentlemen prefer blondes (1953) 🤍 giant (1956) 🤍 gilda (1946) 🤍 the girl on a motorcycle (1968) 🤍 gladiator (2000) 🤍 the godfather (1972) 🤍 the godfather: part ii (1974) 🤍 gone with the wind (1939) 🤍 the good, the bad and the ugly (1966) 🤍 goodfellas (1990) 🤍 the graduate (1967) 🤍 the grand budapest hotel (2014) 🤍 grand hotel (1932) 🤍 grease (1978) 🤍 the great gatsby (1974) 🤍 the great gatsby (2013) 🤍 guess who’s coming to dinner (1967)

H

🤍 the help (2011) 🤍 high noon (1952) 🤍 hiroshima mon amour (1959) 🤍 how to marry a millionaire (1953) 🤍 how to steal a million (1966)

I

🤍 ida (2013) 🤍 il gattopardo (1963) 🤍 the immigrant (2013) 🤍 in secret (2013) 🤍 inglorious basterds (2009) 🤍 it happened one night (1934)

J

🤍 jane eyre (2011)

K

🤍 the king (2019) 🤍 knife in the water (1962)

L

🤍 la dolce vita (1960) 🤍 la notte (1961) 🤍 la strada (1954) 🤍 ladies in lavender (2004) 🤍 lady chatterley’s lover (2015) 🤍 lady macbeth (2016) 🤍 the lady from shanghai (1947) 🤍 the last duel (2021) 🤍 legend (2015) 🤍 les misérables (2012) 🤍 the light between oceans (2016) 🤍 little women (2019) 🤍 the lover (1922) 🤍 the love witch (2016) 🤍 l’avventura (1960) 🤍 l’eclisse (1962)

M

🤍 macbeth (2015) 🤍 malèna (2000) 🤍 man with a movie camera (1929) 🤍 marie antoinette (2006) 🤍 mary, queen of scots (2018) 🤍 the master (2012) 🤍 meshes of the afternoon (1943) 🤍 miller’s crossing (1991) 🤍 the mirror (1975) 🤍 the misfits (1961) 🤍 moulin rouge! (2001) 🤍 the mummy (1999) 🤍 my fair lady (1964)

N

🤍 ninotchka (1939) 🤍 north by northwest (1959) 🤍 the northman (2022) 🤍 nosferatu the vampyre (1979)

O

🤍 once upon a time in america (1984) 🤍 once upon a time... in hollywood (2019) 🤍 once upon a time in the west (1968) 🤍 operation finale (2018) 🤍 the other boleyn girl (2008) 🤍 outlaw king (2018)

P

🤍 the pale blue eye (2022) 🤍 persona (1966) 🤍 phantom thread (2017) 🤍 the pianist (2002) 🤍 picnic at hanging rock (1975) 🤍 pride & prejudice (2005) 🤍 the prince and the showgirl (1957) 🤍 priscilla (2023) 🤍 the promise (2016) 🤍 psycho (1960) 🤍 the public enemy (1931) 🤍 purple noon (1960)

R

🤍 raging bull (1980) 🤍 rebel without a cause (1955) 🤍 rear window (1954) 🤍 repulsion (1965) 🤍 river of no return (1954) 🤍 the roaring twenties (1939) 🤍 rocco and his brothers (1960) 🤍 roman holiday (1953) 🤍 rosemary’s baby (1968) 🤍 rush (2013)

S

🤍 scarface (1932) 🤍 scarface (1983) 🤍 sense and sensibility (1995) 🤍 the seven year itch (1955) 🤍 the seventh seal (1957) 🤍 singin’ in the rain (1952) 🤍 sissi (1955) [trilogy] 🤍 slow west (2015) 🤍 some like it hot (1959) 🤍 the sound of music (1965) 🤍 splendor in the grass (1961) 🤍 the sting (1973) 🤍 stoker (2013) 🤍 summerland (2020) 🤍 sunset boulevard (1950) 🤍 sweet bird of youth (1962) 🤍 the swimming pool (1969)

T

🤍 their finest (2016) 🤍 the third man (1949) 🤍 this property is condemned (1966) 🤍 titanic (1997) 🤍 to catch a thief (1955) 🤍 to kill a mockingbird (1962) 🤍 tokyo story (1953) 🤍 the two faces of january (2014)

V

🤍 vertigo (1958) 🤍 vita & virginia (2018)

W

🤍 walk the line (2005) 🤍 waterloo bridge (1940) 🤍 west side story (1961) 🤍 white noise (2022) 🤍 who’s afraid of virginia woolf? (1966) 🤍 the wild one (1953) 🤍 wild strawberries (1957) 🤍 woman walks ahead (2017) 🤍 the wonder (2022) 🤍 wuthering heights (1992)

Z

🤍 the zookeeper’s wife (2017)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

This day in history

#20yrsago Emotional Design: The Principles ETCON talk notes https://craphound.com/normanetcon04.txt

#20yrsago My ETCON talk, in the Public Domain https://craphound.com/ebooksneitherenorbooks.txt

#15yrsago Apple sez jailbreaking iPhones is illegal and should be banned https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2009/02/apple-says-jailbreaking-illegal

#15yrsago RIP, Atomic Ed Grothus, curator and proprietor of the Black Hole of Los Alamos https://web.archive.org/web/20090213231519/http://wps.com/archives/EdGrothus/

#15yrsago Hard data on ebook piracy versus sales — slides from O’Reilly Tools of Change for Publishing panel https://archive.org/details/ChallengingNotionsOffree

#10yrsago Chinese-language Bing searches in the USA censored to match mainland Chinese results https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2014/feb/11/bing-censors-chinese-language-search-results

#10yrsago The Coruscant Tapestry: 30′ long Star Wars cross-stitchhttps://web.archive.org/web/20140222222211/https://nineteeneightyeight.com/products/aled-lewis-the-coruscant-tapestry

#10yrsago Militant commander accidentally blows up dozens of trainee suicide bombers https://talkingpointsmemo.com/livewire/suicide-bomber-kills-suicide-bomers

#5yrsago Police lobbyist: cops will not be motivated to stop crime unless they are allowed to steal people’s stuff https://www.greenvilleonline.com/story/news/taken/2019/02/03/sc-civil-forfeiture-police-defend-practice-say-funds-essential-law-enforcement/2746412002/

#5yrsago Courthouse shut after sheriff notices bedbugs “falling out of” lawyer’s clothes https://www.3newsnow.com/news/national/oklahoma-lawyer-with-bed-bugs-falling-out-of-clothing-causes-county-courthouse-to-close

#5yrsago Thomas Piketty explains how Elizabeth Warren’s wealth tax is American as apple pie https://www.lemonde.fr/blog/piketty/2019/02/12/wealth-tax-in-america/#xtor=RSS-32280322

#5yrsago After promising health care execs that Medicare for All was dead, Pelosi’s team plans toothless pharma deal https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2019/02/pelosi-advisor-proposes-non-binding-arbitration-road-lowering-drug-prices.html

#5yrsago Netherlands court strikes down Dutch grifter’s patent claim over Ethiopia’s ancient staple grain teff https://qz.com/africa/1545111/ethiopias-teff-flour-is-no-longer-patented-as-a-dutch-invention

#5yrsago Bank lobbyists are scared to meet with AOC because she might humiliate them on Twitter later https://www.reuters.com/article/us-usa-banks-aoc/banks-weigh-whether-to-embrace-or-avoid-progressive-firebrand-ocasio-cortez-idUSKCN1PV27N/

#5yrsago Barefoot Engineers: rural women from Malawi, trained as solar engineers, who are electrifying their remote villages https://www.theguardian.com/global-development/gallery/2019/feb/11/barefoot-engineers-malawi-solar-power-in-pictures

#5yrsago Amazon just bought mesh wifi company Eero. Oh, great. https://www.theverge.com/2019/2/12/18221441/amazon-buying-eero-disappointing

[madseance]

A collection of posts I've found that get reblogged on specific dates each year. Feel free to add to the list.

—————

(Note that there may be one-day discrepancies between sources, due to time zones.)

January

9: Spiders Georg (2013)

February

14: Rest in pieces James Cook, you haole bitch (1779)

March

10: Super Mar10 Day

April

4: Down with Cis Bus (2014)

7: Leland Melvin Day (2008)

8: @Harry_Styles: RIP Baroness Thatcher .x (2013)

13: Neil banging out the tunes (2006)

28: Put Baby in Pelican Mouth (2017)

28: Ed Balls (2011)

May

3: My friend Jonathan started his business trip

20: Yahoo! to acquire Tumblr for $1.1 billion (2013)

25: Raccoon Birthday Party (1997)

June

28: Everything happens so much (2012)

July

20: Really big frog (2015)

August

6: Curiosity rover sings "Happy Birthday" (2012)

12: stepped on a plum (overripe plum) (barefoot) (2021)

12: Sue the T. rex's unearthed day (1990)

September

24: No Internet Dinosaur's birthday (2014)

October

1: Assorted cheese

16: God, I wish that were me (2012)

19: None pizza with left beef (2007)

November

5: Guy Fieri Day

December

9: Stylish but illegal monkey (2012)

[werkboileddown]

Prior to Cameron: Songs For The Witch Woman, October 11, 2014–January 18, 2015 at MOCA Pacific Design Center, the largest survey of Marjorie Cameron's artwork was The Pearl of Reprisal, a retrospective at the Los Angeles Municipal Art Gallery in 1989. The exhibition spanned thirty years, from the notorious Untitled “Peyote Vision��� (1955) to Pluto Transiting the Twelfth House (1978-1986), pen and ink drawings that lent insight to the artist’s psychic state at the time.

Before the opening reception, Hedy Sontag introduced a program titled An Evening With Cameron: The Pearl of Reprisal. Sontag screened two films that feature Cameron: Kenneth Anger’s Inauguration of the Pleasure Dome (1954) and Curtis Harrington’s lyrical documentary The Wormwood Star (1955).

After the screening, Cameron emerged barefoot to give a dramatic reading of her poetry by candlelight. Pleasure Dome cast members Samson De Brier and Paul Mathison were among those in attendance. The reading, which was art directed by Sontag, evokes Cameron in her Topanga Canyon studio, deep in thought as she detaches from the lived world and navigates the subconscious. A prolific writer who shared her work with friends, Cameron was private when inspiration struck. She was known to write in her notebook in social settings, fervently and silently; she forbade visitors to her studio, a sanctum where art-making and writing mingled with astrology and occult ritual.

Though the dates of these journal entries and poems are not known, in their language of mourning and invocation, and use of sacred and Romantic imagery, they are of a piece with the notebooks Cameron kept after the death of Jack Parsons in 1952, as well as the verses she recites in The Wormwood Star, which describe the birth of a spiritual child born of psychic union with Parsons.

Notably, Cameron reads prose from Anatomy of Madness (1956) [5:39], a mixed-media folio included in the exhibition and on view at MOCA. Later published in Wallace Berman’s Semina, the text recounts a life cycle of death, rebirth, metamorphosis, and finally, a transcendent spiritual breakthrough.

This never before seen footage, courtesy of the Cameron Parsons Foundation, is a rare document of an artist whose practice had delved further inward, away from the public eye. Due to the quality of the recording, this video has been subtitled. Every effort has been made by MOCA and the Cameron Parsons Foundation to ensure accuracy of the transcription. Please note that the original footage was edited in camera and portions of the reading were omitted by the cameraperson.