#bobbie grail

[unhelpfulnpc]

Just gotta say, thank you to everyone who makes fan content for obscure video games so that I can enjoy it when I get into the game 2 years late and join the already small now vacant fandom. Thank you for your service!!

also I will be accepting headcanons requests for the characters in the game “growing up” because I’m obsessed with it and I want to try out making content!

[bobbieisthebest]

Joel, holding a baseball bat: There’s no need to be afraid of me. I don’t bite.

Mort, standing a safe distance away: Yeah, but do you wack?

Joel:

Joel: I don’t bite.

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Charles: I don’t know about this, Jake.

Jake: The last time you said that Hoffer you ended up loving it.

Charles: The last time I said that you were holding a bag of durian flavored chips; now you’re holding a roman candle. They are two very different things.

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Nate: You remind me of a Russian doll.

Alicia: Aw, thank yo—

Nate: Full of yourself.

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Kato: If anyone has any questions, ask me.

Bobbie: If a bear and a shark had a fight, who would win?

Kato: ... If anyone has any RELEVANT questions, ask me.

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Wendy (a warlock): Do we not have a plan?

Sam, playing barbarian: Who needs a plan? I’ve got an axe.

Sam: *starts running ahead*

Kato, the very tired DM: An axe is not a plan!!!

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Flick: One time Jake and Juniper were having a heated argument in the car and Juniper took Jake's Queen tape out of the player and threw it out the window with rage and Jake looked her dead in the eyes and pulled out a second copy of that same tape and put it back in the player.

Buddy:...And Jake’s still alive?

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Dad: Tell your mother everything is fine.

Joel: Hey, Mom! We haven't eaten for days, your plants are dead, and I'm dropping out of school. Love ya, bye!

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Kato: What? Didn't I specifically tell you not to do specifically, exactly just that?

Alex: Actually, specifically, you said not to *humiliate* you by doing that. So, we won't!

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Richard: 99% of the time, whenever random violent crap happens, it seems you're somehow involved!

Joel: Can't you have a little faith in that last 1%?

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Buddy: *screams*

Joel: *screams louder to establish dominance*

Flick, concerned: Um, shouldn’t we do something?

Patty: No, I want to see who wins this time.

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Jake: Fun fact of the day: pen ink tastes like almonds..... don't try to suck the ink out of your pens kids it's disgusting and makes your mouth feel funny.

Patty: Why would you even do that?

Jake *shrugs*: I was bored.

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Bobbie at Alicia’s house: I love jacuzzis!

Bobbie: Sometimes I pretend that I'm getting captured by witches and they're using me to make soup!

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Juniper: I know this is going to sound sarcastic, but this is a great plan and I’m really impressed with you guys.

Buddy:

Nate:

Sam: Don’t listen to her, this is a great plan.

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Wendy: Kato, are you sure you don't wanna use my graduation speech? It goes like this: Later, losers.

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Alicia: Due to enormous personal flaws I refuse to work on, I will be arriving extremely late with an iced coffee. Please respect that.

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Juniper: I am so hungover. I have never been this hungover. Are we dead?

Alex: I feel great, I ran 5k this morning.

Flick: Really?

Alex: No I threw up in the shower.

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Joel: My life is a cautionary tale, but like a cool, flashy one that instead of inspiring people to do better it inspires them to be more chaotic

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Juniper: can we go to a haunted house?

Mom: what’s wrong with the one we live in?

Joel: wh- wait what?!

Mom: goodnight Children.

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Humphrey: Mr. Jake, what’s your favorite food?

Jake, deadpan: Children.

Flick: JACOB!

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Nate: Are you crazy?

Joel: Legally no, there's not a word for my condition.

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Charles: [casually taking four stairs at a time]

Wendy, falling behind: Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fu-

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Kato: Dear people who won’t stop asking- Yes, I am actually feeling fine, and yes, I really have been getting a decent amount of sleep at night!

Kato *bites into an onion*

Kato: Hey, this apple tastes like shi-

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Richard: *puts a cup down over a spider*

Joel: *appears; smiles; puts 2 more cups down beside Jay’s*

Richard: Come on, Joel, please no, don’t… DON’T—

Joel: *starts shuffling the cups*

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Jake: Hoffer, in your professional opinion, how would I die?

Charles: Murder. Gangland style execution. We never find your head.

Nate: That’s a shame.

Patty: *slightly raises finger in question*

Charles: You slip in a tub.

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Buddy about Jake: I'd follow him to hell and back, but I wish he'd stop going there.

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Bobbie: I love to dismiss my horrible decisions by saying "yeah that was a weird time in my life" as if the rest of my existence hasn't been absolute clown shoes.

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Alicia: I have met some of the most insufferable people. But they also met me.

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Juniper: When I was small-

Kato: *chuckles* Was?

[bettycooper]

It’s the epic highs and lows of high school football, serial killer genes, Serpent/Gargoyle/Rat King, creating a cult for organ harvesting, palladium mines, the Room of Wigs, disarming a bomb using a bobby pin, my speciality is ice, Julian (Doll’s Version), serial killer making fun of another serial killer for being a bad serial killer, product placement, Bingo, town-wide seizures, Shein Scarlett Witch, singing so much bad singing, the great trench warfare of 2020, the Holy Grail, is it football/wrestling/basketball or music, iconic beanie and ponytail, snake facts, alien maple syrup mothman, Edgar Knievel Evernever, where in the world is Toffee Cooper?, floating babies, The Bear, Queen of the Bees, Serpent/Warrior/Gargoyle/Prom Queen, a kid is dead Archie!, Stonewall Four, Reggie’s mullet, being in the mood for chaos, Red/Dark Circle, inventing red, 7 years past but still 2020, tickle porn, Jason’s corpse just hanging out giving fashion advice, and I’m weird, I’m a weirdo for me.

[fuckyeaharthuriana]

mordred through time (movies, tv shows, opera and musicals)

Part 5: From 2018 to 2023 (and 2024)

Other Parts: Part 1: From 1949 to 1981 -> here Part 2: From 1982 to 2002 -> here Part 3: From 2002 to 2010 -> here Part 4: From 2014 to 2017 -> here

For this last part I wanted to talk a bit about queer Mordred!

First of all, Mordred is one of the main characters who is written as LGBTQ in novels and other media. My arthurian excel list of queer arthurian characters (arthurian list of everything, in the LGBTQ sheet) is up to a few years ago, but the numbers seem to be: LGBTQ Lancelot in 16 media, Arthur in 13 media which is equal to Mordred who is also LGBTQ in 13 media (two being interpretations: White's "The once and future king" and "Fall of Camelot" fromt he Time Life books). Most of these are, of course, novels, with the first ever appearance of LGBTQ Mordred in 1956 Borowsky's novel "The Queen's knight", where Mordred is a gay man. Then in 1982 Cherryh's "Port Eternity" has asexual Mordred, even if the characters could be debated on how arthurian they are. We then jump to 1997 with the short story "The Pretender" by Stephen Dedman, with mlm Mordred.

2005 "A Connecticut Fashionista in King Arthur's Court" by Mari Mancusi (gay Mordred) 2006 "Mordred bastard son" by Douglas Clegg (gay Mordred) 2008 "The Silurian series" by Wilson (gay Mordred) 2012 "The Prince and the Program" by Mercer (bisexual Mordred) 2014 "Mordred and the king" by Curlovich (gay Mordred)

In movies, shows and musicals instead we could consider 2008 musical Mordred the first iteration of queer Mordred (part 3). This is of course an interpretation and it might probably just be a case of queer-coding of villains that reminds of Disney movies. Still, there is no doubt Bobby Steggert, who is an out gay actor (at the time, now he is a therapist) played an obvious queer coded Mordred.

It is only in 2014 that we have an explicit LGBTQ Mordred with "High Noon over Camelot" which also for the first time ever introduces Mordred as a trans man. From 2017 we also get introduced to Fate's Mordred (Fate/Aprocrypha and subsequient movies and stage shows) whose gender has always been a debated topic. I already talked about it in part 4, but Mordred in Fate is definitely written as a non binary character. In 2018 the webseries "The Campaign for Camelot" has Mordred as a protagonist and mlm, with a romance as well (another male character in the show). The last time we saw Mordred with a romance was back in the 60s, in the movie "Sword of Lancelot"!

I think the most interesting thing is that Mordred is without a doubt the character who is the most interpreted as LGBTQ in movies and tv shows. From memory, the only other characters are Morgana (in the Netflix's "Cursed", webseries "Legend" and "The Campaign for Camelot"), Lancelot (in "Monty Python and the Holy Grail", "High Noon over Camelot" and "Spamalot"), Galahad (in Josh Ritter's song "Galahad"), Arthur ("High noon over Camelot") and Merlin (webseries "Legend").

2018 Arthur et les enfants de la Table Ronde: This is a two-seasons French animated show that narrates the adventures of Arthur, an orphan kid living in Uther's kingdom. The show has other arthurian characters as kids (Guinevere, Gawain, Sagramore, Morgana) and Mordred himself is also a kid. Morgause and Igraine (Morgana's sisters) are the main villain and Mordred (their cousin) is also a villain. The voice from the clip is from the Italian dub but the original French voice actor was Ricardo Richter.

2018 The Campaign for Camelot (webseries): This websites (you can watch it here) is a complete 78 short episodes series where different modern arthurian characters decide to run for the school board against Arthur's wishes. Mordred is one of the main protagonists and he is introduced in episode 7. Over the series he also develops a romance with Izzy (Iddawg, from “The Dream of Rhonabwy”). To clarify, in the clip Mordred is the guy without the glasses and the darker shirt! And he is played by Dylan Martin.

2018/2019 OSK's Knights of the Round Table musical: This clip is from a recording but a dvd also exists. OSK is a Japanese theater company of all women. Mordred was interpreted by Momo Mika. The story of the musical follows the classical Arthur-Guinevere-Lancelot triangle with Mordred appearing (as Arthur's son) in the second part of the story.

2020 Arthur and Merlin: Knights of Camelot: A much less exciting movie than I expected, focusing on Arthur trying to reclaim Camelot after Mordred betrays him. Mordred (played by Joel Phillimore) plays Arthur's son and the villain of the story. He often uses threats of sexual violence towards Guinevere.

2020 Fate/Grand Order the movie: Camelot: Another installment in the Fate series. This movie is set in the Grand Order timeline (different from Apocrypha), but Mordred is still a very similar character and they are still voiced by Miyuki Sawashiro. The original title is Fate/Grand Order: Shinsei Entaku Ryouiki Camelot 1 - Wandering; Agateram as in 2020 only part 1 released. Part 2 is called Fate/Grand Order: Shinsei Entaku Ryouiki Camelot - Paladin; Agateram and was released in 2021. Basically part one is Wandering Agateram and part two is Paladin Agateram. Different from other Fate series, this one is set in the past (in 1273 A.D.).

2021 Fate/Grand Order: The Grand Temple of Time: Another movie based on the videogame Fate/Grand Order... please do not ask me the plot, I just know Mordred is not as present here as in the previous movie or as in Fate/Apocrypha.

2021 Le Roi Arthus opera: This is a 1895 opera written by Ernest Chausson and sung in French. I already talked about it before, just know this is the most recent iteration of it and the only video we have of the opera performed in arthurian clothes (the previous filmed performance was a modernization). Mordred was played by baritone Justin Austin.

2023 Camelot Revival: The return of the musical Camelot! There are a few bootlegs around (at least 4 of them) if you want to watch it, but I am not allowed to share them. Still, I got them from asking a gift on the reddit BootlegsGifts. As I still have to watch it I cannot comment on any possible difference here, just know this version was extremely successful. Mordred is played by Taylor Trensch, and Hawley Gould was his understudy (not in audio).

[rocknbolan]

Rock Recap Evening/Overnight & Early AM 6-23 to 6-24

Ozzy has offered to purchase a new microwave for Tony, on the premise he can keep the old one. Stay tuned to see if this riveting story comes to a conclusion soon.

Krist from Nirvana is oddly fixated on Courtney's boobs. Kurt finds this disturbing. So does Lars, you know you dun goofed then even Lars Dracula Vroski is calling you out.

Bret from Poison is experiencing voice cracks. Also, people need to be less afraid of sharks, more afraid of owls. Also looking for a missing Bobby. Have you seen Bobby? If you have, please contact Bret at 555-555-1234 or go to www.allbassistsmustbekidnappedatleastonce.com.

Axl from GnR apparently has screenshots of the elusive, holy grail post anons and Nasty from Hanoi Rocks would like to see. Bret says there is a warning in the bottle and the warning is this: This is not a post for seeing, this is a post for laying down and avoiding. Also he wonders if sleeping pills make you high. Razzle from Hanoi Rocks says yes it is possible.

Lars continues to be inundated with assertions that he is only 4'11". Don't call him Daddy. He still has the hots for Kirk and is a vampire.

Scotti from Skid Row lost his virginity to Rachel, and just in general got lost until Axl picked him up from a 7-11. Houses on hills scare him. He demands cuddles of everyone, and discovered his super power. He is an adorable menace don't let him fool you.

(OOC: If you would like to be included post something for me to report on! If I'm missing your threads, please make sure you're being followed by @eorzean-capitalist, if not, I don't see you, ping me to start watching you, too. ooo spooky.)

[shutupheathersorryheatherr]

“What hair product I think each svt member is”

Summery: a holiday fic that has absolutely nothing to do with the holidays! Wanted to try my hand at writing something a bit different and thought this was a good idea to start. Not really comedy but amusing none the less! (idk if what I wrote makes sense hopefully yall are picking up what I’m putting down) approximately: ten minute read

A/n: THIS IS NOT MY ORIGINAL IDEA! (In a way it is buuuutttt still) I can’t find the author who wrote the “what piece of furniture svt are” or something to that effect so they’re the ones who gave me the idea so if yall find them please tag them unless I do first!

warningz/info: mentions of pain, mentions of chocolate, I think what, three curse words? y'all let me know if I should start keeping them to a minimum or remove them entirely because I know some people are uncomfortable with them! I feel like the spacing between paragraphs is weird in this fic but oh well. no idea how this is gonna go over and im scared that I tagged it with "x reader". plus I dont know if anyone would read/enjoy it but I had loads of fun writing it! as always, if you did like it, please leave some love like comments and or reblogs!

~this is simply a piece of fiction. My imagination onto “paper. This is in no way is mean to be taken as an actual and real representation of anyone.~

•••••••••••••••••••

>Seungcheol<

gel. Sticks to you like glue once you find each other (romantic music starts playing in the hair care isle when you pick up your favorite gel) everyone has their preferred brand/ look they worship. Thicc. Either smells putrid and chemical like or good enough to transport you to a magical land of chocolate, pink grass and purple clouds

>Jeonghan<

he is a Bobby pin. And I will provide no further explanation on this except that he holds you together but will stab you lmao

>Shua<

an Afro pick/ hair pick. Its what everyone’s looking for: that little somen’ somen’. That little poof we all desire. Also scalp massages :)

>Jun<

wide tooth comb. My fellow thick haired/ curly haired people will know about this one 😭 this shit can be mean to your scalp tugging on your hair and UGH helps you greatly and is a necessity but damn… that’s all I gotta say

>Hoshi<

Refresher product/ moisture product. wakes you up in the morning. Gives you a reason to NOT look like you just rolled outta bed even though you did. For most this is one ofthe holy grails in life. What would I do without it? Makes us all smile even at 4:00 am because oh my god I look better after I slapped this in. Just all around a day-brightener

>Wonwoo<

curl cream. Grounding. Has many different looks n stuff

>Woozi<

a rat tail comb. Everyone should have one. Versatile, used for many different things. Good for every sort of job and is a natural to be honest and is small but mighty lol

>DK<

a satin/ silk bonnet. And no, not one of those that most  moms wear with the lace trim. Those end up at the foot of your bed by the morning. The ones with the thick elastic. I choose this cause it goes by many different names, just like him lol just has that comfy homey feel to it

>Mingyu<

hair mask. Made at home with some questionable ingredients. Seriously sometimes I don’t think he’s real lol 

>Hao<

a denman brush. It sounds to helpful and great. And it is great!…. When you figure out how to use it. Hard to figure out but once you get the hang of it you’ll never go back (another thing my fellow curly haired babes will understand)

>Seungkwan<

co wash. A little something extra, a boost of energy, if you will. a well kept secret but also a well known fact 

>Vernon<

hair tie. Easy to loose but also easy to find. especially in places where youd think: “why the fuck would it end up here?” Like idk man, but you should definitely check the dark corner collecting lint— that’s where they always are

>Dino<

leave in conditioner because with use over time it makes your hair (you) healthier

~End~

a/n: annnnnnnnddddd thats it! hope y'all enjoyed this disaster of a fic lmao if you liked it, please leave some love like comments or reblogging!

stay safe, y'all!

2023 ©️copyright for shutupheathersorryheatherr do NOT repost, steal, or translate my work even if you give me credit

taglist: @itz-yerin

[bakedbakermom]

Waking Dreamland

Rated T // 4000 words // Read on A03

Angst (oh so much angst) with a happy ending! During my last rewatch I stayed up until 2am crying over the handful of sunflower seeds that Mulder gives Scully when they say goodbye (totally normal behavior right??), and thus this fic was born.

tagging @today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr

Dreamland AU - When Mulder is unable to switch back into his original body, Scully returns to Washington and he remains in Rachel, Nevada. They both try to build new lives for themselves, but how can they endure without each other?

He grows a beard. It’s the wrong color, but thicker and softer than the one he tried to grow in high school, and he’s surprised by how much he likes it, by how much it helps; it hides the unfamiliar chin and gives him something to look at in the mirror besides the eyes surrounded by laugh lines he didn’t earn, the nose that was never broken in a fight with Bobby Scortino behind the gym in fifth grade, the mouth that has never felt the sweet, trembling warmth of her breath. 

This other man’s body hangs on him like an ill-fitted suit, soft from years behind a desk, but the knees are in decent enough shape for him to ease into a running routine that may someday catch up to what his old body could do. He lifts weights at the rec center, slowly replacing the beer gut with lean muscle; and though he knows it will never be the same, at least it’s a change he can control. Exercise helps with his anxiety, which unfortunately didn’t get left behind, unlike his weird little toe and the gunshot scar below his clavicle that he still startles to find missing each morning in the shower.

He joins a basketball league, even starts coaching a couple of youth baseball teams. There’s a girl named Dreama on the Tween Team, a little redheaded shortstop who always has her science textbook in her gym bag and never lets him get away with anything. He feels a near-painful whelming of hope for her, and endless indulgent pity for the gangly, dark-haired boy who trails along after her everywhere she goes, trying to impress her.

If being a Man in Black is hard, then quitting is somehow even harder; they don’t usually let men of his (well, Morris’s) position just hang up their flashy-things and walk out the door. He suspects they only let him get away with it because of the divorce, and because he stays close enough to the base that they can monitor him—dark cars with bland men parked in front of his apartment, a clicking any time he picks up the phone. Not that he has many places to go, not that he has anyone to call. He lingers only on the periphery, keeps only the most superficial relationships, glancing off of other people’s lives like light off a soap bubble.

Joanne kept the house and the kids, of course. He hears through the grapevine that Chris got early acceptance to UCLA, and that Terrance wants to become a screenwriter. Their new stepdad works in the same division that was in charge of faking the moon landing (before NASA managed to pull off the real one) so the kid will probably have an “in” at any studio he likes. He sees Joanne in town sometimes, at the market or the post office or the video store, and she is always smiling. He doesn’t approach her.

Sometimes the best thing you can do for someone is just get out of their way.

He gets a job, of all places, at the Little A’le’inn, slinging Alien Ales and Saucer Burgers to townies and tourists alike. It’s not a great job, but he’s had worse; and at least he gets to keep his ear to the ground for any good UFO gossip, even if it’s just the bragging of the test pilots and not hints into the dark heart of the mystery that consumed him for so many years. He has had to mourn for the answers he will truly never find, now, and the irony of being scant miles from the conspiracy theorist holy grail while himself being resigned to more earthly concerns is not lost on him.

He works, he works out, he endures. He slowly accepts that he will live and die in this body, in this prison of flesh that creaks in all the wrong places, in this life he tripped and fell into while it was already in motion. It’s a life sentence, and there is not even the hope of parole on the horizon. 

The constant flow of UFO-worshippers through this bizarre neon honkytonk Mecca has one advantage: he can keep in contact with the Lone Gunmen. All his phone and email correspondence is being monitored, so they’ve set up drop points and communication systems in what the boys colorfully refer to as “meatspace” to get around it. There is a loose tile behind the door in the men’s room with a crack on one side and a hole behind it that they use to exchange brief messages, funneled through the hands of who knows how many anonymous intermediaries. If the crack is at the top, there’s a message waiting for him. He turns it to three o’clock when his reply is ready to be picked up. 

There are protocols in place for six and nine o’clock, but he has yet to engage them.

He never knows which of the patrons leaves or picks up the carefully coded messages, and that’s probably for the best. The Gunmen never use the same courier more than twice, and they switch up their cyphers every few months—usually just as he is getting the hang of one, which is of course the point, but he grumbles under his breath anyway each time he finds a new decoder ring behind the tile.

They’ve talked about securing an email address for him, funnel accounts and spyware countermeasures they could deploy so he could keep in touch with his old life, but there’s only one other person he’d want to talk to, and he thought a clean break would be better.

He has only one picture of her, one the Gunmen had scrounged from his apartment while Morris was busy redecorating. It’s a polaroid he’d taken of her the day they got a new camera for the office. She’s sitting at the desk in front of his poster (god he misses that poster, nothing but ashes in the vent system now), one eyebrow raised in indulgent skepticism while he bounced around like a little kid, so excited to play with his new toy. The flash going off had surprised them both, but not as much as the fact that the picture had come out not just properly focused but also incredibly cute. She had rolled her eyes when he put it in his suit pocket, then on his desk at home, and so it was one of the few things that survived the fire.

He keeps it in his wallet, and tries not to look at it too much. It’s enough—it needs to be enough—just to know she’s there.

Sometimes at night he dreams of her. On the good nights, he dreams of smokey lounges and roadside diners and the hallway outside his apartment. On the bad nights, he dreams of the rising hum of bees.

He wonders if she ever dreams of him.

Time passes, and he rides it like a wave, letting it carry him away from the shipwreck of his old life and wash away what little flotsam still clings to him. News comes through the Gunmen—Skinner’s death, Spender’s, Diana disappearing along with the Smoking Man and his ilk. He does not ask them for news of her, and they do not offer it. 

His mother’s passing hits him harder than he expected, and he asks the boys to send flowers for her grave. He wonders if Morris ever tried to reconcile with her, if he even went to the funeral. If she did. He takes three days off from work and indulges perhaps too deeply in the bar’s employee discount, puking out his guts and his regrets and a shame rooted so deep it rips him apart as it comes up, until he is empty, scraped clean, another thread in the sailcloth of his old life snipped away, never to be mended.

He goes back to work feeling both leaden with grief and weightlessly unmoored, as if gravity hasn’t yet decided what to do with him. He pours drinks, serves Wegman a burger, tries to laugh with the UFO nuts who stop by on their way to the Black (or is it white?) Mailbox, dreaming of Dreamland.

There’s a song playing on the jukebox that he recognizes, though no one can tell him the name or who sings it. It’s the same song that played the first time, when he brought Morris’s wife here a lifetime ago, when he thought there might still be hope. When he thought maybe he could still go home. His vision blurs as he listens, and he blames the Nevada laws that still allow smoking in bars.

I have waited for what seems Like a whole light-year Just to see your face

Something in his chest grows tight, and the other sounds around him fade away.

Now I'm staring at the stars Wondering where you are Wondering if I'll ever see Your face again

The bell above the front door jingles, somehow the only thing he can hear beside the music, and he looks up.

…as long as the sun would shine You would love me Love me And I hope You'll love the sunshine One more time…

He sees her the same moment she sees him, that shock of recognition like the shifting of the plates that bear the continents across the sea. The glass in his hand falls, shatters, and he would leap across the bar and pull her into his arms if his body (well, Morris’s) could just remember how.

All he can do is breathe her name. 

“Scully…”

—

She carries the sunflower seeds in her pocket back to the motel, her hand tingling where his skin had touched hers for the last time. She cries that night, stinging tears and the kind of wracking, unstoppable sobs that make her ribs ache and her throat burn—the kind that Morris can almost certainly hear through the walls, thin as cardboard, and knowing that only makes it worse. He at least has the good grace to keep his mouth shut on the flight home, and she even catches a glimpse of what looks like contrition on his face once or twice.

They part outside the airport and he doesn’t look back. It shouldn’t hurt, but it does.

She still has enough friends and enough goodwill (or perhaps pity) at the Bureau to salvage her old teaching position, flaying corpses in a room full of wide-eyed students that now all look like babies to her. She wonders how she was ever so young. She wonders at the weight of years, the weathering of time, the subtle changes in the body and mind that build and ebb in a person like sand carried by the tide until one day you wake to find that shoreline has become unrecognizable.

She has felt that seachange in her core, somewhere behind her solar plexus, tugging at her from the depths of his eyes; he has remade her, as she has remade him, shaping and reshaping each other over years and miles and tears and enough bad coffee to bring down the ageless, impregnable cliffs that once surrounded her heart. She staggers now without it, like the nauseating jolt of solid ground after months at sea. She cannot find her footing.

The seeds live in her pocket so long they start to crumble, salt on her fingers day after day as she fiddles absently with them, and she finally moves them into a glass jar that she keeps on a shelf. She opens it once in a while just to smell them, just to feel the sting in her eyes and know that he was real, that they were real; and if she sneaks the jar into bed with her sometimes, if she sleeps with it under her pillow because it’s the only way to keep the nightmares at bay, she tries not to think about it too much.

She tries, for a long time, to move on. She buries Skinner. She buries Spender. She buries herself in jagged pieces that keep rising through the earth to cut her when she least expects it. We bury our dead alive, and she is a woman both haunted and haunting.

She moves through her life without touching it. She teaches, she consults, she moves her mouth and makes the noises that mimic human expression and connection without ever feeling them. It’s grief, she knows, leaving her by turns agonized and numb, screaming and sobbing, and it’s supposed to ease with time; but how can it when the ghost of him haunts not a house but her very cells, and his body lies not beneath the cold, dark earth but walks and talks and sneezes as if nothing has happened at all?

The gossip reaches her, even down in those cold, subterranean labs where she burrows herself away—he’s climbing the ladder with hands that aren’t his, bedding his way through the secretarial pool in a stolen body, throwing away another man’s lifetime of hard-earned misery to grab at that brass ring.

She sees him in the hallways, though she tries not to. To see his face with another person behind it—the smile that doesn’t match the mouth, the voice that hits all the wrong notes, even the gait like his shoes don’t fit, except it’s the feet themselves that are wrong—each time it twists in her gut like a knife. He says hello to her, once, a tentative and distorted echo that leaves her panting and heaving in the women’s room until Holly comes in and asks if she doesn’t need to go home and lie down.

She quits the next day.

Her mother tries to understand, though she has never been able to properly explain just what has happened to this bad pantomime that used to be the man at the center of her world. Maggie hugs her, feeds her, does her laundry when she can’t do it herself. She watches her daughter adrift on the tide and prays each Sunday that she will find some way to turn her ship to harbor.

They attend Teena Mulder’s funeral together, two black-clad figures among the scant handful of mourners who turn up at the snowy gravesite in North Carolina, murmuring thinly veiled poison about poor Teena’s ungrateful son, who couldn’t even be bothered to attend. 

A wreath of lilac and carnation stands beside the open earth, with a tag reading simply “- M.” She traces her finger over it a dozen times, tears freezing on her cheeks.

When they go back to the car, she draws a deep and steadying breath. “Mom—”

“I know, sweetie. I’ll help you pack.”

—

She sidles up to the bar and his heart pounds so loudly in his ears he wonders if she can hear it. Her hair is dark, longer than he’s ever seen it, longer than the intervening months could account for and he realizes she’s wearing a wig; her makeup and clothing are outside her norm, as well—smokey eyes, crimson lips, a t-shirt from some band he doesn’t know, jeans with slashes across the knees that reveal little hints of pink skin as she walks toward him. She’s disguised herself from prying eyes, but he’d know her anywhere. Those luminous blue eyes that glass with tears as she looks at him, the way her right eyebrow lifts and her chin pebbles as she tries not to cry, the watery smile that pulls at her lips when she says, “Buy a girl a drink?” with a hitch in her voice that stakes him through the heart.

There are creatures in the desert, he knows, that go to ground deep beneath the sand, desiccating under the unrelenting heat, and only come back to life in the rain. He has become a creature of the desert, an empty husk curled and hollow; he drinks in the sight of her like the first patter of gentle rain, trying to let it be enough, even as he longs for a deluge to wash him clean and carry him away.

They slip into a booth in the back corner, sipping from twin bottles of local lager, and he cannot stop staring at her. She tells him about her life the past eighteen months, the pain and grief and loneliness that echoes down the hallways of her heart just as it does his. He tucks her words inside himself, as if he could save them, as if they can protect him from the drought that will return after the rain passes, as if they could fill all the empty places left behind when so much of himself has been cut away.

He aches to touch her, to tuck a strand of not-her-hair behind her ear and skim his thumb over the downy softness of her cheek. He almost does, almost takes her hand when she tells him about Skinner, purple and straining and dying in her arms; almost brushes away the tear that drips from her eye when she talks about Spender’s lonely burial, how she was the only one to leave a flower for him.

He is frozen. How can he touch her with these hands that aren’t really his? Would she even let him, or would she flinch away from his stranger’s body? And how would he be able to live after seeing that in her eyes?

But when she moves first, when she reaches across the chipped formica table to lay her hand over his as she says, “I’m so sorry about your mother,” the dam inside him breaks and he finds himself weeping, salt streaking down his cheeks as he clings desperately to her tiny, warm fingers. She is driftwood in a storm, a lighthouse through the fog, an anchor in the heaving sea that surges beneath his breastbone and pours in a torrent from his lips as he tells her everything—the cold and empty nights, the days that pass in a heat that burns but refuses to consume, Dreama and the boy and the way his heart cracks just a little bit more every time he makes a desperate wish for their happiness on a star that might be a stealth-plane. How he feels like he has already died, and is now only an inept gardener tending his own grave.

By the end she is crying with him, her eyes so blue he wants to drown in them, and when he stretches his arm across the vast continent of the booth to thumb her tears away, she does not flinch.

She leans into his hand. 

He will never be able to put his heart back together after this, and he lavishes in the agony of it all; it means he is still alive.

—

“Hey, Fletch, you and your lady friend gonna lock up?” Sam, the owner, appears beside them as if from nowhere. “I thought your shift ended at ten.”

He snatches his hand back as if burned, clearing his throat and knuckling his eyes, and she looks around to see that the bar has emptied out except for them.

“Sorry, yeah, I guess I lost track of time. I’ll take care of it,” he says, and she marvels at how this different voice in this different throat still somehow drips with him, a favorite melody played on a new instrument. His sad little smile painted over a different set of lips, the familiar glint in a different color eye, the heat of him just the same through a different skin. 

“Fletch?” she asks, quirking a brow at him when the other man moves away, and he smiles bashfully.

“I couldn’t stand ‘Morris,’ too close to old memories. Besides, sometimes I get to quote the movie.”

“Ever seen a spleen that large?”

“No, not since breakfast.”

He squeezes her hand in a quick little pulse as he rises to begin tidying up, and it takes her a long minute to wrangle her heart back into rhythm.

Could you love someone who looked like that? (What are you talking about, of course not! Five, ten minutes tops, maybe.)

When the counters are wiped clean and the lights turned off, he leads her out the back door and locks it behind them; the stars are shockingly bright in the clear desert night, glimmering like diamonds across a black velvet sky. His cheap truck and her cheaper rental sedan are the last cars in the lot, and they pause awkwardly between them. A tumbleweed with fantastic comedic timing rolls across the gravel.

Finally he takes her hand, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles as if to memorize their topography. “Thank you, Scully. For coming to see me.” 

She opens her mouth to speak but he barrels right past her, the words falling from his lips in a pained deluge: missed you and go home and you deserve more and don’t look back for me and a thousand other ways to say goodbye because he knows if he stops speaking, that will be the end. She feels like she’s back in his hallway, back in that humid bubble of tears and breath where she had been the one begging him to let her go, where she realized she never could.

There are no bees in the desert.

She stops him with a finger against his lips. She cups his jaw, running her thumb along the silk of his beard, and the twitch at the corner of his mouth as he falls silent in surrender is as familiar as her own face in the mirror.

“I didn’t come here to say goodbye. I tried to grieve you. I tried to move on.” She steps closer, feeling the heat from his body wash against her own, the tide of his breathing pulling her to shore. “I tried to live a life without you. But I can’t. I don’t want to.” 

His hands (well, Morris’s) are in her hair (well, wig), warm and real and who the fuck cares if the fingerprints they leave on her skin aren’t the ones he was born with, who cares if the tears in his eyes are salt from a different sea? It’s all one ocean, after all, and she wades forward into the spray.

“Wherever you are, Mulder, that’s where I belong,” she whispers. Ship to port, a wave to the shore, she fits into his arms as easy as breathing. “I love you.”

His grin is blinding in the starlight, his laugh echoing across the sand as he pulls her tight against him; he lifts her, spins until she is breathless and giggling. He sets her back down on solid earth, presses his forehead against hers and stares into her eyes. “Say it again.”

She runs her thumbs against his lips, and they’re as soft and plump as she imagined, even if the shape is a little off. “I love you.”

“No,” he says. “The part where you said my name.”

She shakes her head, smiling through the tears in her eyes, and stretches up to breathe, “Mulder,” against his lips.

His kiss is the rumble of thunder across the sea, the safe harbor that calls her home.

–

The next morning he turns the tile, skipping right past six o’clock (get me out of here) and straight to nine (get us out of here).

–

There is a house in West Virginia, an unremarkable little affair with painted shutters and rosemary by the garden gate. The couple who lives there use false names when they play bridge with the neighbors, and strange visitors stop by sometimes in the night. If you ever find yourself inside this house, look for a shelf high in the corner of the kitchen, where the morning light flickers through the dusty window. Look for the jar of sunflower seeds, and the crinkled polaroid propped against it. 

Special thanks to @muldxr whose "trick or treat" ask prompted me to remember that I had this fic languishing in my WIP folder; and to @perpetually-weirdening for her encouragement, kind words, and first eyes. I scoured google for DAYS trying to find the name and artist of the song that plays in the Little A'Le'Inn during Dreamland II and apparently it has been lost to time. No one who worked on the show can remember, it doesn't get listed in the episode credits, even Shazaam can't figure it out. Maybe it's an X-File. I'd give credit if I could. Borrowing a handful of quotes from Fletch (1985) and "the part where you said my name" from Ever After: A Cinderella Story (1998), which you should watch if you haven't. I wanted to include a scene of Scully bullying the Lone Gunmen into giving her Mulder's location, but couldn't make it fit. Please feel free to imagine her threatening Frohike with grievous and very specific bodily harm.

[okayigetitifuckedup]

My Beauty/Skincare/Fragrance favorites, in no particular order:

I guess this is kind of a list of my holy grail products? Do people still say that or am I showing my age? Whatever.

I see a lot of people talk about this stuff, but hardly anyone ever mentions some of my absolute favorites so I wanted to give them what little love I can from Tumblr, haha.

There is going to be a large amount of price difference between these products because price is not the end all, be all of quality. Some lower-priced brands produce products that wow me, specifically in skincare, though I have my high-end vices as well, as you will see. I won't say don't splurge, I would say be particular about what you splurge on. That's the trick. Figure out what you want from the product, then look at what each price point promises. As a general rule, more high-end, or luxury brands have been leaning into a more natural look, so I tend to find myself gravitating to cheaper mascaras, or eyeliners because I like my eye makeup to be a bit heavier. At the same time, most highlighters I use are very expensive, because it is hard to find a cheap highlighter that looks as natural as I prefer.

I will also say that for the skincare portion, I have sensitive, or reactive skin, in combination with minor oiliness in the T-zone, and across my jawline, with very minor dryness on the cheeks. I have tried two-dollar cleansers, and fifty-dollar cleansers, and the lesson I have learned is trial and error is your friend. Don't be afraid to try new products, as the only way to truly know how a product affects your skin is to try it. I recommend looking out for samples, and trial sizes. They are your friend! Anyway, My personal favorites are below the cut.

Cleanser:

La Roche-Posay: Toleriane Purifying Foaming Facial Wash

This cleanser is life-changing for me. One pump of product is enough for my entire face and neck, so the bottle lasts ages, the product is extremely gentle, something that is harder to find when you have sensitive and oily skin. In my experience, I usually have to choose between feeling clean, and not irritating my skin. This is the first one I've found that does both, for me.

Toner:

THAYERS: ROSE PETAL FACIAL MIST

I don't know if this does anything, but it's pretty cheap, feels nice, smells good, and I like it. It has witch hazel in it, so, maybe? But also, it can't hurt, and life is short, you deserve to spray yourself with nice things just because you like it.

All-Over Body Exfoliator:

Frank Body: Express-O Coffee Scrub

This isn't the only product from this brand on the list. I love Frank Body, and honestly, all of their scrubs are top-notch. This one is my favorite, only because I think it's a lot easier to work with, and less mess to clean up when I'm done, but with all the same great benefits of their other products. I would say it's beginner-friendly, I guess, haha. Honorable mention for their illuminator, which does not make my list, but is a fantastic, natural, buildable highlight.

Moisturizer:

Kiehls: Ultra Facial Oil-Free Refillable Moisturizer

This one was a close race, between this one and the Bobbi Brown hydrating moisturizer, but what threw me over the line is that I only ever heard anyone talk about this brand for their other moisturizer, one that I sampled, and found entirely too heavy for my skin, but would do well for someone with a more dry skin type. I wanted to let people with my skin type know that this brand has thought of us as well, and this product is just as good, for our skin! And it's like thirty dollars less than the Bobbi Brown one!

Lip Balm:

Frank Body: Lip Balm

This is another hard one. I have been a lip balm addict since I was a child, and the question then became, do I pick the one I use most often, (The Softlips one I mention below) or the one that is actually my favorite. I chose the better product. RIP to the cherry version that blew this one out of the water. I prefer a petroleum-free lip balm, but mostly due to texture preferences, not for any added benefits. Also, if you aren't a lip balm addict, or looking for something that REALLY softens your lips, you don't NEED this, you can get a much cheaper one, this is the best, but please don't let someone tell you not to buy Vaseline lip balms, they work fine and are cheap as hell. 'Rosy lips' in the mini jar is my preference for that one. Softlips in the pearl tint is also a great brand that no one talks about. It was my mother's favorite, and it became my regular lip balm as I got older. It works, it's cheap, it's pretty, and it's at every dollar store, or Walmart checkout I've ever been in.

Mascara:

Thrive Cosmetics: Liquid Lash™ Extensions Mascara

This one went viral for a little bit, I think, but then fizzled out and everyone went back to better than sex, which is a damn shame because not only is this stuff fantastic, (thickening, lengthening, volumizing, and long-lasting!) but the brand gives to charity for every purchase! Why not buy it!? I've been meaning to look at some of their other products, but haven't had a chance yet. I will say, remove it in the shower. It's easier. Steam helps.

Body Moisturizer:

L' Occitane: Shea Butter Ultra Rich Body Cream

This stuff is high-end and knows it. A little goes a long way, so use sparingly. They have other body moisturizers, including an almond-scented one, but I like this one better, it's gentle, and deeply moisturizing without irritating my reactive skin, and I find that the scent blends with whatever perfume I use nicely.

Daytime Fragrance:

L' Occitane: Néroli & Orchidée Eau De Toilette

I know, I know! We just went over this brand, but I swear, this perfume is so light, floral, and pretty. It isn't overpowering but does make an impact. It's a secret weapon for a first impression, honestly.

Fragrance Notes of orange, mandarin, neroli, lily of the valley, fig milk, and peach, with a base or orchid, iris, and musk.

Nighttime fragrance: BLACK OPIUM EAU DE PARFUM

No one talks about this perfume anymore, and they should. It is approachably sexy, and intriguing. This is a perfect date night perfume and my personal favorite that is currently on the market.

Fragrance notes of: Coffee, pink pepper, orange blossom, jasmine, vanilla, patchouli, and cedar.

Now, a moment of silence for three products I can no longer recommend, but would have made the list if they hadn't been discontinued:

Physicians Formula: Va Va Voom Mascara

If this was still on the market it would be the only mascara I use. It's sultry, it's sexy, it's thick, it's.. it's EVERYTHING I want in a mascara. This stuff is worth its weight in gold to me.

Pacifica: Alight oil-free Foundation

Hands down the best foundation I've ever used. Oil-free, but non-drying, natural finish, has medium-light coverage, is buildable, and feels like nothing on the skin. I've paid more than 50 dollars for foundation before, so believe me when I tell you it brings me no joy to tell you that not only was the best of them like 8 dollars, but it's also gone now. You can still find some shades online at second-hand resellers, but my shade is gone forever. Heartbreaking.

Wet N' Wild: Megacushion Foundation

I know- divisive, especially with oily skin, but this was more of a touchup product than a regular foundation. It would work to help any areas where my foundation begins to sweat off. It's light and compact, and because of how easy it is to apply, I could carry it in my purse. I know there are other cushion foundations, so maybe this trick could work with them as well, but I have yet to try them, so I cannot in good conscience recommend them.

Please please please, like and reblog in you enjoyed, or if you'd like to see more of my useless knowledge on this crap. Also if you have any questions about any of it, I'd be happy to help! My ask box and messages are always open, and I'm happy to make use of my years of wasting money, haha.

[ratchet9cooper]

The National film registry is announcing this years additions in the next couple days, so i wanted to share what my 50 votes were this year.

300 (Zach Snyder, 2007)

AFL-NFL World Championship Game-with ads (1963)

Akira (Katsuhiro Ôtomo, 1988)

Aladdin (Ron Clements and John Musker 1992)

Batman (Tim Burton, 1989)

Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure (Stephen Herek, 1989)

The Birdcage (Mike Nichols,1996)

Captain America: The First Avenger (Joe Johnston, 2011)

A Charlie Brown Christmas (Bill Melendez, 1965)

A Christmas Carol (Edwin L. Marin, 1938)

Couples Retreat (Peter Billingsley, 2009)

The Evil Dead (Sam Raimi, 1981)

A Few Good Men (Rob Reiner, 1992)

Fiddler on the Roof (Norman Jewison, 1971)

Finding Nemo (Andrew Stanton and Lee Unkrich. 2003)

The Fugitive (Andrew Davis, 1993)

Godzilla (Ishirô Honda, 1954)

The Good the Bad and the Ugly (Sergio Leone, 1967)

The Great Escape (John Sturges, 1963)

The Green Mile (Frank Darabont, 1999)

Happy Gilmore (Dennis Dugan, 1996)

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (Chris Columbus, 2001)

Harvey (Henry Koster, 1950)

How to Train your Dragon (Dean DeBlois and Chris Sanders, 2010)

The Hunting trilogy-Looney Tunes (Rabbit Fire, Rabbit Seasoning, Duck! Rabbit, Duck!)

The Incredibles (Brad Bird, 2004)

John Wick (Chad Stahelski, 2014)

Kung Fu Panda (Mark Osborne and John Stevenson, 2008)

Lethal Weapon (Richard Donner, 1987)

The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (Peter Jackson, 2002)

The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh (John Lounsbery, Wolfgang Reitherman, and Ben Sharpsteen, 1977)

Monty Python and the Holy Grail (Terry Gilliam and Terry Jones,1975)

Metropolis (Fritz Lang, 1927)

My Big Fat Greek Wedding (Joel Zwick, 2002)

My Cousin Vinny (Jonathan Lynn, 1992)

Mulan (Tony Bancroft and Barry Cook, 1998)

The Nativity Story (Catherine Hardwicke, 2006)

The Parent Trap (David Swift, 1961)

The Passion of the Christ (Mel Gibson, 2004)

Phantasm (Don Cascorelli, 1979)

The Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl (Gore Verbinski, 2003)

RED (Robert Schwentke, 2010)

Spider-Man (Sam Raimi, 2002)

Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby (Adam McKay, 2006)

The Truman Show (Peter Weir, 1998)

Unbreakable (M. Night Shyamalan, 2000)

The Usual Suspects (Bryan SInger, 1995)

War games (John Badham, 1983)

While You Were Sleeping (Jon Turteltaub, 1995)

You Can’t Take it With You (Frank Capra, 1938)

[watchingspnagain]

Rewatching Lucifer Rising

Welcome to “Dean Is a Cat and We Want Cheeseburgers: A Supernatural Rewatch Blog” with Lor and Mace!

Up today, s4e22: Lucifer Rising.

The cold open shows Azazel possessing a priest in 1972 and doing a ritual to speak to Lucifer. Luci tells him that he needs Lilith to break the seals that imprison him and that Azazel should look for a special boy. In the present, Sam and Ruby are after one of Lilith’s minions, planning to extract info from her and then have Sam drink up so he will be powerful enough to kill Lilith. Meanwhile, Dean is grump about Sam, and Bobby rips him a new one over it. Dean is then mysteriously zapped to a luxurious “Green Room,” where Zach and Cas explain that they’re keeping him safe because it’s inevitable that the last seal with be broken. Dean calls Sam and leaves a voicemail apologizing for being a dick, but the message Sam receives has been altered into an abusive rejection, which spurs Sam on in his plan. Back in the GR, Zach explains that heaven *wants* the apocalypse so they can bring about heaven on earth—and drops the fact that Dean is destined to kill Lucifer. Dean then argues with Cas that the angel *knows* that letting so many people die in an apocalypse is wrong, and Cas eventually comes round, in a bit of business that is approximately a floppitygillion times more homoerotic than it needed to be (we’re good with it). Cas banishes Zach with a sigil, tells Dean that *killing* Lilith is the final seal, and takes them to Chuck the Prophet to find out where Sam is. An archangel shows up to stop this, Cas stays to hold him off (die), and Dean goes after Sam. He’s too late, though. Sam kills Lilith, her blood flows through a weird spiral whoozit, and Ruby reveals that she’s been working with Lilith all along to bring this about. Sam holds Ruby, Dean stabs her with the demon knife, Lilith’s blood completes its journey through the spiral, and FADE TO WHITE.

Below is a log of our real-time reactions as we watched. Remember that there may be spoilers for any part of SPN’s 15-season run here. Note also that the nature of our conversation is adult and thus it may contain adult language and themes.

[and we begin:]

Mace:

oooh yeah the song

Lor:

YEP

Mace:

priests outfits are ridiculous sometimes

Lor:

RIGHT?

Mace:

i mean, if they want to wear dresses, just do it, man. no judgement. or at least much less than touching boys

Lor:

RIGHT?!

Lor:

this is why you put devil's traps in churches

Mace:

ha!

Lor:

their own fault really

Mace:

i’m not buying that these nuns are scared. they’d more likely be like, “Right, let’s gang up on this a-hole and do some EXORCISING”

Lor:

YAAAAAAS

Mace:

oh sweet BEAN

Lor:

especially the handful of older ones

Mace:

YES

Lor:

aw his FACE

Lor:

you better go hug him

Mace:

YES

Mace:

YAS

Mace:

maybe also a little light petting

Lor:

sure sure, just a little light petting

Mace:

he’s so SAD

Lor:

don't distract him TOO much he has a season to finish

Mace:

snork

Lor:

and it's his turn to be a mess, so

Mace:

Dean’s upset, his collar is extra popped to indicate

Lor:

"don't make me get my gun, boy." Bobby. He doesn't need shot he needs kicked up the patootie

Mace:

it IS his turn

Lor:

LOLOLOLOL

Mace:

HAHAHA

Lor:

look, Dean. eat a cookie, go to therapy, and put on your hunter panties

Mace:

YAS

Mace:

give him that tough love

Lor:

YAAAAS BOBBY

Mace:

HAHAHA BOBBY

Lor:

"you stupid STUPID son of a bitch"

Mace:

I was talking to Lor, but okay

Mace:

YES

Lor:

LOL

Lor:

"no. you sound like your DAD"

Mace:

“you sound like your dad” OFFSIDES

Lor:

GET HIM BOBBY

Lor:

LOLOLOL

Lor:

"you are a better man than your daddy ever was" AAAAAAAAAA

Mace:

YAS

Lor:

CAS

Lor:

time for what? smooches?

Mace:

HAHAHAHA

Mace:

MMM burgers

Lor:

what is that on the table? a lure Holy Grail? like in Indiana Jones?

Lor:

yeah but it's the "uh oh something's wrong" beer

Mace:

HAHAHA

Lor:

"you're looking fit" PISS OFF, ZACHARIAH

Mace:

omg SUITE LIFE

Lor:

YES

Lor:

"tempting. weird"

Mace:

HAHAHA

Lor:

"bail on the holodeck" I love him, the little nerd

Mace:

from a kid’s show to ST. wow. impressive

Lor:

he has range

Mace:

he really does

Lor:

"well work harder"

Mace:

so bossy

Lor:

Iiiii'm okay with it

Mace:

Cas isn’t. that’s his job

Lor:

until Cas is ready to step in. he can stand in for now

Lor:

LOLOLOL

Mace:

HAHAHAHA

Mace:

ooo the stutter. sweet DeanDean

Lor:

YES

Mace:

aw, he listened to Bobby

Mace:

good boy

Lor:

"I'm not Dad" you take that talk from Bobby to heart, Dean

Lor:

YES

Mace:

oh Sammy

Lor:

right?

Lor:

poor dude

Mace:

GET THIS

Lor:

well, demon, the editing suggests Sam

Lor:

YAS

Mace:

HAHAHAHA

Lor:

oh Sam

Mace:

right?

Lor:

LOLOLOL DEAN OMG

Mace:

omg DEAN IS A CAT

Lor:

YES HE IS

Mace:

Cas is looking particularly prickly and gorgeous today

Lor:

HE IS

Lor:

"fine. I'll go with you" sigh

Lor:

he will say that so many times and it will get more and more devoted each time and I LOVE IT

Mace:

YES

Lor:

Dean was right, Sam. he was just a monumental jerk about it

Mace:

HA

Lor:

lol the way he checks the wall to be sure

Mace:

HOWLER MONKEY

Lor:

LOL

Lor:

"you don't want to stop it, do you" and it aaaaaall suddenly makes sense

Mace:

this guy is so good

Lor:

oooo I hate Zach and the actor is so good

Lor:

HA! YES

Lor:

oh Dean. he's so worried

Mace:

is that a painting of Michael between them in the background

Lor:

I think so (ED: unless it’s Lucifer? *shrug*)

Mace:

that’s fabulous

Lor:

and it might even be on purpose this time

Lor:

ah

Lor:

"where's god in all this?" ooof, Dean

Mace:

yeah

Lor:

I love the little wing sounds when Cas shows up

Mace:

YES

Lor:

"he's gonna do it to himself" GAH

Mace:

ooof

Lor:

"WE’VE BEEN THROUGH MUCH TOGETHER YOU AND I" my A03 handle!

Mace:

HAHAHAHA

Lor:

LOL the punch

Mace:

YES

Lor:

"you know what's real? people. families" oooooo I never realized that much much later when Dean asks what's real and Cas says "we are" it parallels this

Mace:

oooo NICE

Lor:

you tell him, Dean

Mace:

YES

Lor:

he just wants to give you whatever your little heart wants, Dean, keep trying

Mace:

YESYESYES

Mace:

they stand so close to each other I LOVE IT

Lor:

RIGHT?!

Lor:

*kisses whoever blocked this on the top of the head*

Mace:

“we’re done” but then when he looks back and sees Cas is gone, he’s so heartbroken

Mace:

GAH

Mace:

BOYS

Lor:

YES

Lor:

OMG NO

Mace:

RIGHT?!

Lor:

I FORGOT ABOUT THE FAKE VOICEMAIL

Mace:

STUPID ANGEL ASSHOLES

Mace:

GOD I WANT A CHEESEBURGER

Lor:

oooof and it being what Dean said that made him pause and then what he thinks Dean said pushing him over the edge

Mace:

omg Cas pushing Dean against the wall NNNNGGGG

Lor:

I'm sorry what? my brain went offline when Cas pushed Dean against the wall covering his mouth

Lor:

YAS

Mace:

HAHAHAHA

Lor:

YES CAS

Mace:

HOW do people deny Destiel exists after a scene like that?!?!

Mace:

willful ignorance, clearly

Lor:

I genuinely have no idea

Lor:

blindness? homophobia?

Mace:

HA

Lor:

like, these two start eyefucking the first time they're on screen and never stop?

Mace:

RIGHT?!?!

Mace:

homophobia and dipshittery

Lor:

"we're making it up as we go" AND DEAN'S FACE

Lor:

YEP

Mace:

YES

Lor:

I feel like maybe they should have read? something about all these seals?

Mace:

right?!

Mace:

poor Sammy

Mace:

fell for the honeypot

Lor:

he really really did

Mace:

he needs comforting, but after he gets a good slap upside

Lor:

yeah

Mace:

omg the Dumbo reference is perfect

Lor:

"you had it in you the whole time, Dumbo"

Lor:

YES

Lor:

"I don't care"

Mace:

YAS

Mace:

Sammy’s FACE

Lor:

i mean, she should have known that big brother Dean was gonna kill her for what she did to Sammy. pay attention, Ruby

Lor:

YES

Mace:

yep

Lor:

and his VOICE when he says "I'm sorry"

Mace:

Sammy has SUCH a good little brother face here

Lor:

YES

Lor:

omg I LOVE that it fades to white

Mace:

YES

[baby-brawl-bracket]

Here's a list of all the lil tykes that will be continuing on to the next round!

While I work on the images for the next round.

ROUND 1 CHAMPS:

Ai-Chan (Doki Doki Precure) 

Groot (Guardians of the Galaxy)

Cheer (Mewkledreamy)

Daffy Duck (Baby Looney Tunes)

Reborn (Katekyo Hitman Reborn) 

Sunny Baudelaire (A Series of Unfortunate Events)

Michelle Tanner (Full House)

Galvana (My Singing Monsters) 

Strong Bad (Homestar Runner)

Metroid Hatchling (Metroid) 

Bumblebee (Wings of Fire)

Baby Herman (Who Framed Roger Rabbit)

Love Nikki Baby Advertisement (Love Nikki Dress Up Game)

Gangnam Style Baby (Gangnam Style)

Pepe (Shugo Chara)

Tokomon (Digimon)

Lei (Pokemon)

Midori Sawatari ( (Gakuen Babysitters)

Sandy Crood (The Croods)

Benjamin "BeBe" Proud & Cecilia "CeCe"

Maggie Simpson (The Simpsons)

Baby (Super Monkey Ball)

Super Baby Caren (Fate/Grand Order)

Fuwa (Star Twinkle Precure)

Takashi 'Mori' Morinozuka (Ouran High School Host Club)

Rosalina (Mario Kart)

Snoopy (Peanuts)

Karkat Grub (Homestuck)

Bobby (QSMP)

Nathan Christopher Summers (X-Men)

Kacheek (Neopets)

Titanicus aka Titi (Karmaland)

Tamaki Suoh (Ouran High School Host Club)

Toxel (Pokemon)

Kermit (Muppet Babies)

Hotaru Tomoe/Sailor Saturn (Sailor Moon)

Giant Floating Baby Head (Phineas and Ferb)

Boh (Spirited Away)

Polly Plantar (Amphibia)

Kirin Kumatsuka (Gakeun Babysitters)

Ianita (Mianite)

Boo (Monsters Inc.) 

Shogo Lee (X-Men)

Pubert Addams (The Addams Family)

Sidon (The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild)

Swee’pea (Popeye)

Tarzan (Tarzan)

Rotta the Hutt (Star Wars the Clone Wars)

Evil Sky Babies (Drakengard 1)

Unico (The Fantastic Adventures of Unico)

Miss Piggy (Muppet Babies)

Takuma and Kazuma Mamizuka (Gakuen Babysitters)

Bugs Bunny (Baby Looney Tunes)

Uzura (Princess Tutu)

Megamind (Megamind)

Azymondias (The Dragon Prince)

JuanaFlippa (QSMP) 

Time Baby (Gravity Falls)

Jack-Jack Parr (The Incredibles)

Alvin Jr. (The Walking Dead - Telltale )

Potpourri (Heartcatch Precure) 

King Clawthorne (The Owl House)

Milk (Sanrio)

Sir Not Appearing In This Film (Monty Python and the Holy Grail) 

The Sun (Teletubbies)

Latte (Healin Good Precure)

Fozzie Bear (Muppet Babies)

Chiffon (Fresh Precure)

Grimmchild (Hollow Knight)

Kirby ( The Kirby Games )

Saiki Kusuo (The Disastrous Life of Saiki K.)

Baby Peach (Mario Kart)

The Grinch ( How the Grinch Stole Christmas )

Joshua - Meat Form (Wayneradiotv)

Togepi (Pokemon)

Finn the Human (Adventure Time)

Tallulah ( QSMP )

Chayanne (QSMP)

[bobbieisthebest]

Juniper (MC): What did you two do?

Jake:

Mort:

Richard: You guys aren’t in trouble, we just need to know if we have to lie to the police again or not.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alicia: Something’s off.

Bobbie, sarcastically: Maybe you’ve finally developed emotions and feel bad for hurting people! Maybe THIS is your redemption arc!

Alicia: No, but that’s funny.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mom: Did you wash the dishes?

Dad: I thought you wanted to do that...

Mom: *chuckles* You were WRONG.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Teacher: Sit up straight.

Charles: No, I'll sit as gay as I want.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Flick: Sometimes I worry about Juniper.

Flick: I mean, how damaged does the girl have to be, to be into someone as annoying as Jake?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nathan: If I came home with four ducks would you be mad?

Charles: What's in your bag?

Nathan: I think you know what's in my bag.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*After the incident with the football*

Charles: You want to kill Sam? 

Jake hugging Juniper: Just briefly.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alicia: Can you please be serious for five minutes?

Bobbie: My record is four, but I think I can do it.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Juniper: I'm always thinking about that one time I was on register for like four hours straight and I said over mic, "Someone please take over register I am about to become the Joker" and they came to relieve me faster than I've ever seen anyone relieve me before.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Buddy: I really like these cool lights you installed.

Juniper: Actually those are police lights. Jake is getting pulled over again.

Jake: Don’t the police have anything better to do? Three people are getting mugged right over there!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kato: Just try

Wendy: I'll try, but I'm telling you I'll purposefully fail

Kato: How is that trying!?!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wendy: Without ugliness, there would be no beauty in this world. Thank you for your sacrifice, Sam.

Sam: Look here you tiny shit-

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jake: Come on, what’s the worst that could happen?

Buddy: We could die?

Jake: Please, like that’s ever stopped us before.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bobbie: Not all of your life decisions have to be smart. Some can be purely for cinematic value.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bobbie: What disease do beekeepers get? Hives.

Kato: Hives is a skin reaction due to excess antihistamines. Not a disease.

Bobbie:

Bobbie: Hives.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nathan, hungover: please tell me I imagined claiming I was the king of all ducks.

Richard: Well I would, but then I would be lying to the King of all Ducks.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Juniper: What did you guys get in your yearbook?

Flick: 'Prettiest Smile'

Richard, beaming: 'Nicest Personality'

Jake: 'Most likely to start a bar fight'

Kato: 'Least likely to start a bar fight, but most likely to win one'. Damn straight.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Charles: I mean, yeah, I get along with my father great! Last conversation we had didn't go so well, but that was years ago.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jake: When we were little kids, Richard got bit by a house spider and he was crying so I went to get some stuff from Juniper’s mom to soothe and numb it, but before I could even walk out the door, I heard him quietly whisper, "I can’t handle the responsibility of being Spiderman."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sam: Can you be quiet?! I'm trying to think.

Kato: Don't worry. Doing anything for the first time is difficult.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Flick: Why are you apologising for liking me back?

Kato: Because I don’t want to ruin— wait a second. Pause and rewind, what did you just say?

[prettygoodstuff]

Street Games and Growing up in New York City in the Sixties

(From an actual dream I had in February, 2024)

I woke up from an intense dream after about 7 hours of decent sleep. In this dream some of the students in the college class I was auditing as an adult in 2024 were asking me about how terrible it must have been to be a kid before the internet and social media and smart phones. Didn’t it suck to not have any fun things to do?

Nothing to do? I began to tell these kids what it was like to be a kid in Brooklyn back in the sixties. At first, I was talking about the cement parks with three-tiered chain-link fences around them where the older kids or adults played handball against cement slabs, using small, blue, hard rubber balls and light gloves. As I told them about it, while still in the dream, I lapsed into a deep Brooklyn accent.

When I was very young I never knew that a park should have grass and trees until my parents took me to Prospect Park, a few miles away. Urban New York parks were just a place to play games. They had to have a basketball court, of course. My friends and I were into hanging around those cement monoliths and playing all sorts of games with Pennsy Pinkie rubber balls, or, even better, Spaldeens.

Spaldeens! They were the Holy Grail of game equipment. They were better than Pennsy Pinkies to play stickball with, and stickball was the Holy Grail of street games. A ball and a broomstick with some tape around it were all you needed to have hours of healthy fun in the dirty, hot streets, with the occasional car interrupting the game, and Mr. Silverman or Mrs. Mancini yelling that “You kids better get out of here or I’m calling the cops!” I got so excited about all this stuff in the dream. 

I told them about ringalevio, johnny on the pony, knucks, marbles, flipping baseball cards, stoop ball, box ball, ”Chinese.” We left a lot of skin on those streets, but I'd take that over an arcade on an iPhone any day.

The girls had lots of games as well. Jacks, hopscotch, double-dutch jump rope, hola-hoops, and lots more I don’t know the names of. “Miss Lucy had a baby…Hello operator, give me number 9…”

Then, in the dream, I started talking about all the other things we got excited about -  Silly Putty, Etch-a-Sketch, roller skates with keys, the first skateboards  (the ones with metal or even clay wheels,) the junk-yard on the corner (where we used to have rock fights, and my best friend was on the other team once and hit me right in the eye and sent me to the hospital. We're still best friends - that's New York for ya’.) The candy store just beyond the junk yard where we got Double-bubble gum with Palooka Joe comics, balsa wood airplanes with rubber-band propellers, jawbreakers and Topps baseball cards. I had every Yankee, which would be worth a fortune now, if my mother hadn't thrown those cards away when I moved out, along with all the model airplanes hanging from my bedroom ceiling and my Hardy Boys book collection. I'm sure many of you can relate.

I told those college generation Z-ers about the cemetery a few blocks away, near the "bad" neighborhood, where the "stealer boys" lived.

Local New York TV channels showed Sonny Fox on Wonderama playing "Simon Says;" Chuck McCann reading Dondi and playing Dick Tracy and Mr. Magoo cartoons; The Soupy Sales Show with White Fang and Black Tooth (my dad watched that with me, too. My dad's best friend was a comedian and he knew Soupy, so he and my dad had watched Soupy's stand-up comedy live - it was definitely not for children!) My favorite kid's show of all time was The Sandy Becker Show, with Norton Nork, Geeba Geeba, Hambone and a lot of other great characters. (I don't have to google any of this stuff, it was just flowing in the dream..) 

Everyone watched Captain Kangaroo with Mr. Greenjeans and Mr. Moose, The Mickey Mouse Club with Jimmy, Bobby, Annette, and Cubby;  Howdy Doody with Buffalo Bob and Clarabell, Kookla, Fran and Ollie and The Shari Lewis Show with Lamb Chop. My little brother used to watch Romper Room with my mom. I even got on the Bozo show with one of my friends, although, to tell you the truth, I didn't like red-nose clowns much. Or any clowns for that matter, until I met some punk/goth clowns performing in Covent Garden, London, and the pedestrian zone of Munich when I worked doing street performances in those places many, many years later. 

Quick digression: I think my aversion to clowns stemmed from my parents trying to drag me to the Metropolitan Opera when I was seven. I didn't know what an opera was, but it sounded fishy. My folks were “cultcha vultchas" and were constantly trying get me to like fancy bullshit. But I was on to them, until they convinced me that we were going to see a clown "like in the circus" at the Met. So I let them twist my arm. We were sitting high up in the nose-bleeds at the Met, waiting for a clown, and this white-faced monster with a pointed hat came out and screamed and cried. Fucking Pagliacci. Hated clowns and can't stand opera ever since.

But back to the fun stuff - There were the cartoons. Everyone remembers Rocky and Bullwinkle, but we also had their precursors, Crusader Rabbit with Raglan T. Tiger. We had Beanie and Cecil (for some reason my dad watched that with my little brother and me, too.) Anyone remember Farmer Gray and the Mice, which played right after the first show after the  The Modern Farmer? My brother and I would get up before six o'clock in the morning to just to watch the first TV show after the test pattern in the morning. 

There was a kind of show that wasn't actually a show in itself. They were showcases for other, short clips. Depending on what was available, they'd play some cartoons Popeye, Betty Boop, Koko the Clown from the Inkwell (my favorite), Krazy Kat, Felix the Cat, Mighty Mouse. They were shows like The Merry Mailman, Officer Joe Bolton, and Captain Jack McCarthy ("Six bells and all's well..."_ I later learned that a lot of other American cities had shows like that. I even once got a gig (I am a professional magician) on the Skipper Chuck show in Miami. But they were all poor imitations of NYC greats. 

All of America had Spanky and Our Gang (The Little Rascals,) but in NY we also had The Dead End Kids (a.k.a. Bowery Boys or East Side Comedy) with Slip Mahoney and Sach and the gang who met at Louie's Sweet Shop. 

Then there were the scary shows, like Zacherley, and Chiller Theater.

I could go on forever. I guess that in the dream I am still trying to tell the students about a childhood that beat the pickles out of what they now call “gaming.”

Once, when I was living in Germany, making my living as a street performer doing magic all over Europe, I had a visit from another American friend who was also living in Europe. He was from NYC as well, and we were reminiscing about all of the great stuff we had when we were superkids on the streets of New York. A German colleague of mine (a juggler/clown) was in the room as we were jamming memories back and forth, and she was astounded at all the Kulturgut (cultural goods) that America had. America? This was just New York! 

[infectedzoology]

EVELYN WAS, UNFORTUNATELY, very prone to wandering off -- much like a crow or a raven, her attention was always grasped by random shiny objects in the distance, or anything her mind could form a plan with. Things to make weapons, grenades, distractions, whatever. So this time, it was no surprise when she wandered off and found what she considered a holy grail hidden away in some garage -- hammers, nails, wooden boards, metal saws, a propane tank, newspaper, fireworks, flashlights, all sorts of things...a mad scientist's dream.

AN EXCITED SQUEAL revealed her location to the others as she dashed to a locked crate, kneeling down and examining the padlocks. Swinging her backpack down her arm, she opened it and dug for a small baggy, pushing aside various water bottles, food items, a singular giraffe plushie, and random shit she collected around until she got to it. Once she located it, she plopped it on the ground next to her and dug through the various little trinkets inside.

PULLING OUT A bobby pin and a paper clip, she got to work picking at the locks. It took a moment of fiddling around, but once both of them were popped open, she opened the box, and another energetic squeak left her as the contents were revealed: lots and LOTS of more building materials.

SHOOTING UP TO her feet, the scientist heard the sound of oncoming footsteps and whipped around, bright blue eyes landing on her teammate. The same energy riddled her expression as she wordlessly pointed to the box and the tables with all the building supplies. Her feet tapped merrily on the ground like a pigeon, her joy apparent.

AFTER A LONG moment of happy dancing, she finally found her words.

" I-I CAN BUILD s-so many c-c-cool things with all of th-this stuff !! C-can you see my vi-vision ? I-i-imagine going th-through a Horde with a SAW ! "

[lizzygrantarchives]

The Sun, January 27, 2012

'When I write songs, I stand under the telephone wires and take in their energy'

The thrill of hearing a great album from a mysterious new artist for the first time is great daydream material.

You can drift off into a smoke-filled hotel room with a rock star crumpled in the corner, sobering up as an all-nighter comes to a close, delicate tinkering on a guitar distracting from the pain of a headache as yet another hangover says "hello".

Or you can picture a weeping female solo star scribbling melancholic lyrics over a love lost in heartbreaking circumstances, tears blotting the ink as they splash on the page.

I pictured Lana Del Rey writing her new album Born To Die in the biting cold of a New York winter, or on the road to the Hamptons.

I was wrong.

Lana says: "When the body is in motion the mind kind of follows. I like to write when I'm moving, when there's nothing getting in the way.

"The nice thing is a lot of the album was written before anything was happening, any deals or contracts. So a lot, I would say a third of it, was written in California.

"I had a car, so I was just driving from Santa Monica to Malibu thinking out loud.

"One of my best friends, Daniel — the string composer on some of the songs — is who I stay with in California.

"When he went to work, I would go down to the foot of the hill, underneath the telephone wires. When it's really hot, they're really electric and crackle. I would try to get energy from the wires."

It's a colourful, happy picture she paints. It explains a lot of the warm Hollywood imagery from the Video Games promo, which 20million people have viewed on YouTube.

"It's great driving music too," she explains in her hypnotic East Coast accent.

Born To Die, out on January 30, is a 12-track road trip millions of fans will be investing in over the coming weeks and months.

It's a beautiful collection of ballads and sophisticated pop songs, weaved together so well it requires you to listen to the album as a whole. It's the Holy Grail for artists — the much sought-after winning formula.

Lana, real name Lizzie Grant, has found it with the help of brilliant producer Justin Parker and some trusted musician pals.

A lot of people are taking notice, including Damon Albarn.

She said: "I spent a day with Damon. It was good. He saw me on Jools Holland. Damon and Bobby Womack had been watching the show together that night and called me the next day asking me if I'd come over.

"I just drove over and they just wanted me to freestyle, make up a chorus on a song. So I did.

"He's smart. I've taken notice of a lot of UK artists. I like Professor Green and Mark Ronson. Those two stand out."

There's a sense on the album that hip-hop beats have influenced the rhythm of some of her tracks. The lyrics on Radio are a nod to some of her teenage listening tastes.

She explains: "Eminem was the first hip-hop I listened to. He was the most innovative lyricist I had ever heard.

"I didn't really hear Biggie Smalls until I was 20. But again, that really influenced me.

"Listening to that music made me happy and I can write better when I'm happier."

Lana's live performances have been honed in the underground clubs of New York City and she has looked to Bob Dylan for inspiration during her long walks in the sticky heat of an East Coast summer.

She says: "He had clarity, such a way with words.

"I think when I'm writing the melodies they just sound bittersweet because I've found things to be a little bit difficult at times, but also beautiful.

"I just write while I'm walking and I'll take it to one of my producers and ask him to help me put chords underneath it.

"But sometimes too, like with the track Radio, Justin just held down long keys. Sometimes what I ask my producers to do is just hold down long extended, melancholic notes and I end up just freestyling over them.

"I keep everything pretty simple. It's funny, I'm a writer first and a singer second.

"We're really busy right now but I think I'm just going to settle down for a bit.

"Ideally what I'd like to do in a few months — or later on — is go back to the West Village in New York, have a residency there somewhere and just continue to do my work and stuff on the side."

And for all Lana's fans wondering whether to call her by her real name Lizzie if they stumble across her on her regular trips to the UK, here's the answer.

"I like them both, they feel really comfortable to me.

"Everyone I work with calls me Lana, but it feels like home, it feels like me.

"When my mother is in the same room as my manager and publicist, no one gets the feeling they're talking to a different person, it's just kind of how it goes. My dad calls me Lizzie but my mum just calls me Honey."

Apt really. Born To Die is the manuka honey of albums in 2012 — and here Lana reveals the inspiration behind six songs.

Video Games

It's a song about letting go of my musical ambitions and settling down into a simple life with a person I loved. We had a mutual love for the community of New York, art and hard work.

Born To Die

Born To Die best represented the mood and the energy of the entire album so I named the record after this track. I consider the record a homage to true love lost and a tribute to living life on the wild side. When I was young I was overwhelmed by thoughts of my own mortality, but I also found fleeting moments of happiness in the arms of my lover and friends. This track and the record are about these two worlds — death and love — coming together.

Carmen

Carmen is a song I can't say too much about because it's so close to my heart. It's the song on the record I relate to most closely. It's set partly in Coney Island, a place that's been important to me throughout my New York City career.

Radio

Radio is a song I wrote in the middle of making the record after Fearne Cotton started playing Video Games on Radio 1. I was grateful that the song being on the radio brought some old friends back into my life — especially one person. In the chorus of the song I sing "Now my life is sweet like cinnamon like a f****** dream I'm living in — baby loves me 'cause I'm playing on the radio. Lick me up and take me like a vitamin, 'cause my body's sweet like sugar venom, oh yeah."

Million Dollar Man

Million Dollar Man is my favourite song to sing live. It sounds best in New York City jazz clubs under a blue spot light. It's a song about a man who thought I was one of the most exotic things he had ever seen and me indulging in his appreciation and love. On the outside he was handsome and wholesome, but under wraps he was running an illegal electronic business which ended up taking him and his friends under, hence the chorus — "You look like a million dollar man, so why is my heart broke?"

National Anthem

It's another escapist song, revelling in the good times. I've been with this guy off and on for a long time, but we used to just drive from New York in his car up to the Hamptons. I remember thinking at the time it was just heaven. It's funny, all the songs are about the same thing — going away with the one you love and then coming back home. In having relationships, you're able to explore other sides of yourself.

Originally published on thesun.co.uk.

[mondoradiowmse]

01/10/24 Mondo Radio Playlist

Here's the playlist for this week's edition of Mondo Radio, which you can download or stream here. This episode: "El Nuevo", featuring classic boogaloo and more. If you dig it, don't forget to also follow the show on Facebook and Twitter!

Artist - Song - Album

Ricardo Ray - Stop, Look And Listen - Jala Jala Y Boogaloo

Ricardo Ray & Bobby Cruz - Azucare Y Bongó - ¡Mas Mambo Mania!: More Kings & Queens Of Mambo

Ismael Rivera With Cortijo - Arrecotin Arrecotan - Greatest Hits

Celia Cruz - Caramelos - ¡Mas Mambo Mania!: More Kings & Queens Of Mambo

Ricardo Ray - Iqui Con Iqui - Jala, Jala Boogaloo, Vol. II

Pete Rodriguez - Micaela - I Like It Like That (A Mi Me Gusta Asi)

Pete Rodriguez - El Hueso - I Like It Like That (A Mi Me Gusta Asi)

Willie Colon - Skinny Papa - El Malo

Willie Colon - Jazzy - El Malo

Mongo Santamaria - Philadelphia (Live) - Mongo Santamaria Explodes At The Village Gate

Mongo Santamaria - Yes It Do (Live) - Mongo Santamaria Explodes At The Village Gate

Ozzie Torrens And His Exciting Orchestra - Way Out Mambo - Boogaloo In Apartment 41

Ozzie Torrens And His Exciting Orchestra - Boogaloo In Apt. 41 - Boogaloo In Apartment 41

The Holy Cows - Call Her The Egg - We Never Heard Of You Either

King Nando - Maria, Maria - The Soul Of Spanish Harlem

Joey Pastrano - That's How Rumours Start - The Soul Of Spanish Harlem

Ray Barretto - El Nuevo Barretto - Acid

Ray Barretto - The Soul Drummers - Acid

Johnny Colon & Orchestra - Boogaloo Blues - Boogaloo Blues

Johnny Colon & Orchestra - Mira Ven Aca - Boogaloo Blues

Orquesta Soul - Eleanor Rigby - Bugalu

Orquesta Soul - Let's Go Get Stoned - Bugalu

The Lat-Teens - Soulful Thing (Cosa Llena De Alma) - Buena Gente (Good People)

Joe Cuba Sextet - Psychedelic Baby - The Rough Guide To Latin Psychedelia

Johnny Rivera & The Tequila Brass - Cloud Nine - The Rough Guide To Latin Psychedelia

Ralph Robles - Getting Happy - The Rough Guide To Boogaloo

Los Africanos - Pamoja Vatu - Dean Rudland Presents: Let's Boogaloo!, Vol. 6

Bobby Marin - Cisco Kid - Dean Rudland Presents: Let's Boogaloo!, Vol. 6

The Revolution Of St. Vincent - The Little You Say - Holy Grail Tropical Funk 45 (Single)

St. Maarten's Rolling Tones - It's A Feeling - Holy Grail Tropical Funk 45 (Single)

Ghetto Brothers - Got This Happy Feeling - Power-Fuerza

Joe Bataan - Latin Strut - Anthology

Joe Bataan - Fin - Anthology

Fania All Stars - Closing Theme (Live) - Live At The Cheetah, Vol. 2