#charlie and augustus kissing

[glamnessaau]

Charlie and Violetta straight (i no love LGBT)the comic CatCF

Sorry you all have to see shit from my side-blog in my main blog but I need to respond to this kinda stuff. As you all know, I draw a Charlie and the Chocolate Factory fanfiction comic that takes place 20 years after the events of the book. Charlie and the other four ticket winners get back together and it's all wholesome and fun.

This Anon has taken a liking to it and thought it wise to spam my inbox for literal months, demanding that I insert a romance plot into my work, specifically between Charlie and Violet. I already told them once that I wasn't planning on focusing on romance. However, now that Anon has resorted to being homophobic...

Here's your damn romance!

[hereforreadandwrite]

Chapter Three

Masterlist

"(Y/N)!!! Hurry! Hurry!" cried Charlie who was waiting with his parents.

"One second! I'm coming!"

You were finishing styling your long hair (Y/H/C). You put your hairbrush on the bedside table before leaving your room to join the Bucket family. All eyes were on you. You ran your hands nervously over your new skirt.

"It suits me well?" you asked with an embarrassed smile.

"You're so beautiful," Charlie said smiling at you.

"A beautiful young woman" commented Grandma Josephine.

"Maybe you'll finally find a man for a husband," joked Grandpa George.

"Pop," growled Mr. Bucket.

"Come on kids. We gotta get going before we're late," Mrs. Bucket said as she picked up the coats. "Let's go! Let's go!"

You kissed your grandparents who wished you a good day. You were uncomfortable when you kissed Grandpa Joe who patted your back. He refused to talk to you or even look at you. It wasn't your fault it was also your dream to meet Willy Wonka. You were wishing your grandparents a good day, leaving the cabin with your uncle, your aunt and Charlie. The boy was more excited than you, literally making you run to get to the chocolate factory as quickly as possible. Your excitement subsided when you saw the crowd gathering in front of the gates. You showed them your golden ticket. The police let you pass and put you in line with the other families. Charlie took your hand looking shyly at the other children. Beside them, you were doing a bit of a task. Augustus was eating his chocolate with his mouth wide open, Violet was chewing gum loudly, Mike was tapping his foot nervously and Veruca was ordering her father to move the clock forward so he could go inside.

"Badly behaved children," you thought as you pulled Charlie closer to you.

You and Charlie turned one last time to see Mr. and Mrs. Bucket waving at each other and blowing kisses. At ten o'clock sharp, the gates of the chocolate factory opened. Your hand tightened around Charlie's.

"Please enter!"

The group entered quickly, passing the huge gate.

"Come forward"

The group advanced to the huge gates.

"Close the gates!"

The gates closed with an ominous creak as the group continued to advance to the doors.

"Dear visitors, it is my great pleasure to welcome you to my humble factory. Who am I? Well..."

The group stopped in front of the huge doors that revealed huge red velvet curtains, which opened on a musical puppet show that sang the glory of Willy Wonka. Your gaze fell on Charlie. The boy was looking at you as perplexed as you. The other parents and children were also perplexed, except Mrs. Gloop and her son. The end of the show was ludicrous, a firework was triggered which set fire to the puppets, melting them and making their eyes pop out of their sockets. The music distorted before finally shutting up. What had just happened? The group was snapped out of their minds by hearing someone giggle and clap frantically. All eyes fell on the man who was smiling with all his perfectly white and perfectly aligned teeth. Your eyes widened when you saw that the excited man was none other than the strange man who had helped you and offered the clothes you were wearing. The man was quickly climbing the stairs, carefully observing his guests.

"Who are you?" Violet asked with an unpleasant tone.

"Willy Wonka," you say in a small voice.

"Really?" Charlie asked under his breath.

Willy observed his guests with a huge smile, his breathing was noisy. His gaze met yours. You quickly looked away, preferring to focus on your new shoes. God, that was terribly embarrassing.

"Good morning, starshine! The Earth says hello!"

The guests watched Willy Wonka in awkward silence. Seeing this, the famous chocolatier rummaged in his coat to pull out small cards.

"Dear guests, greetings. Welcome to the factory. I shake you warmly by the hand," he said, holding out his hand to his guests when he realized he shouldn't have said that line. He quickly retracted his hand. "My name is Willy Wonka."

"Then shouldn't you be up there?" Veruca asked, pointing to the throne that had appeared during the show.

"I couldn't very well watch the show from up there, now, couldt I, little girl?"

"Mr. Wonka," Charlie called, taking a step forward. "I don't know if you remember, but our grandfather worked in your chocolate factory."

"Was he one of tose despicable spies who every day tried to steal my life's work and sell it to tose parasitic copycat candy making cads?" he asked in a harsh and threatening tone.

By reflex, you put your arm around your cousin, drawing him towards you, glaring severely at the chocolatier. Willy lifted his head slightly, meeting your eyes (Y/E/C). You held his gaze, daring him to go after your Charlie.

"N-no, sir," Charlie replied shyly.

"Good! Say hello to him," Willy replied cheerfully. "Let's get a move on, kids!"

Willy turned his back on his guests, rushing into his chocolate factory at a rapid pace. Seeing this, everyone quickly caught up with the famous chocolatier. Augustus asked him if he wanted to know their first name. To which Willy replied that he didn't see the point before changing the subject, saying that they had a lot to do. The group arrived in a huge corridor and were struck by the sweltering heat.

"Just drop your coats anywhere," Willy said pulling off his long red velvet jacket which he threw on the floor along with his weird sunglasses.

"Mr. Wonka. It sure is toasty in here," Mr. Teavee said, removing his jacket.

"What?" asked the chocolatier, turning to the man. "Oh! Yes! I have to keep it warm in here because my workers are used to an extremely hot climate. They just can't stand the cold."

"Who are the workers?" Charlie asked curiously.

"All in good time," he said before looking at you. "Now..."

You felt your cheeks blush when you saw his eyes for the first time. He was looking you up and down, a proud smile stretching his lips. The chocolatier started walking, crossing the huge hallway when Violet hugged him. Willy tensed, grimacing in disgust.

"Mr. Wonka, I'm Violet Beauregarde!" she said while loudly chewing her gum

"Oh... I don't care," he replied with a small forced smile as he continued on his way.

"Well, you should care! I'm the kid who's gonna win the special prize at the end."

"Well, you do seem confident, and confident is key."

You looked at Willy perplexed. He didn't seem convinced of what he had just said. On the other hand, mrs. Beauregarde was delighted. Veruca rushed in front of the chocolatier who was forced to stop, his expression distorted by another grimace.

"I'm Veruca Salt. It's very nice to meet you, sir," she said with a small bow.

"I always thought a verruca was a type of wart you got on the bottom of your foot."

You couldn't help but giggle. Willy looked at you out of the corner of his eye, a slight smile appeared on his lips when his attention was drawn to Augustus Gloop, his face covered in dry chocolate and crunching a piece of chocolate with his teeth.

"I'm Augustus Gloop. I love your chocolate!"

"I can see that. So do I. I never expected to have so much in common," he said halfheartedly before turning back to Mike. "You. You're the little devil who cracked the system. As for you two... you're only lucky to be here. And the rest of you must be their-"

Willy was gagging trying to say that word. Mr. Salt said the word parent, which made Willy laugh nervously.

"Yeah! Moms and dads," he said before his eyes clouded over. "Dad? Daddy..."

"Mr Wonka?" you called passing your hand in front of the chocolatier who came out of his trance. "Are you doing well?"

"Sure, Barley sugar. Let's move along."

Willy turned his back on the small group, advancing to the door which was at the end of the corridor. You couldn't help glancing at Willy out of the corner of your eye. You would never have believed that this extravagant man ran this world-famous chocolate factory. Was this guy making fun of you? He had listened to your complaints against your family, he had offered you his clothes that you dreamed of having. Your fingers twitched thinking of something. Willy knew you had won the day you found the golden ticket. When you first met, he must have thought you looked grotesque in Grandma Georgina's old clothes and he didn't want to be ashamed in front of the reporters. Willy Wonka bought you his clothes to avoid public humiliation. You were snapped out of your thoughts when you felt Charlie's hand tug on your sweater. You realized that the hallway was shrinking more and more. The adults had no choice but to crouch in front of the tiny door. How were they going to get into the room?

"Important room, this," Willy said, pulling out a big bunch of keys. "After all, it is a chocolate factory."

"Then why is the door so small?" Mike muttered.

"It's to keep all the great big chocolate flavor inside! haha!"

This answer was strange. Willy inserted the key in the lock, slowly unlocking the tiny door. The chocolate maker slowly reached for the door, the leather of his glove making a creaking sound, to push the double door wide enough to let the group in. The smell of chocolate and sugar penetrated your nostrils. The ground was covered with grass and some strange plant you had never seen, there was a chocolate waterfall and a river running through the huge room.

"Now, do be careful, my dear children. Don't lose your heads. Don't get over excited. Just keep... very... calm," Willy said calmly.

In shock, Augustus dropped his bar into the grass. You carefully observed the surroundings, not hearing Charlie whisper that this place was magnificent and Willy's gaze resting on you, affirming the words of your young cousin. You didn't notice the glare Madame Beauregarde left you either.

"Every drop of the river is hot melted chocolate of the finest quality," Willy began as he walked into the room, followed closely by his guests before turning to them. "The waterfall is most important. Mixes the chocolate. Churns it up. Makes it light and frothy. By the way, no other factory in the wolrd mixes its chocolate and waterfall, my dear children. And you can take that to the bank. "

The chocolatier started walking again, leading the little group into the room. All of his sweets made your mouth water, but there were so many things you didn't know where to start. The group was crossing a small bridge, passing over the chocolate river when your attention was caught by a strange machine, flying above your heads.

"People!" Willy called, catching the attention of his guests. "Those pipes suck up the chocolate and carry it away, all over the factory. Thousands of gallons an hour. Yeah. And do you like my meadow? Try some of my grass. Please have a blade. Please do. it's so delectable and so darn good-looking."

"You can eat the grass?" Charlie asked, clinging to your arm.

"Of course you can! Everything in this room is eatable. Even I'm eatable. But that is called cannibalism, my dear children. And is, in fact, frowned upon in most societies."

This Willy Wonka had a pretty weird sense of humor.

"Enjoy!" he exclaimed, separating you with a wave of his hand. "Go on! Scoot! Scoot!"

The group quickly separated to run for the sweets they were craving so much. Charlie let go of your arm to go to his side. You were getting closer to a plant made entirely out of some sort of chocolate bulb. You withdrew one of the bulbs uncertainly before bringing it to your lips, crunching the candy. The taste of the chocolate was exquisite and the cream soft. It was the best chocolate you had eaten.

"Delicious, isn't it?"

You jumped when you heard your host's voice. You turned to Willy Wonka. The strange man had his Cheshire smile on his lips as his hands gripped his cane.

"I knew this clothes pulled beautifully, Barley sugar. You look lovely," he praised, smiling at you.

"T-thank you," you say uncomfortably, running your free hand up your skirt. "I thank you again for this gifts, mr Wonka."

"Mr Wonka makes me look old. Please call me Willy, Barley sugar. I would love to know your name too. Now we are no longer strangers."

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)."

"(Y/N)," he said dreamily, testing her name on his lips. "It's a very nice name. So (Y/N), do you like the visit?"

"Yes, this piece is extraordinary," you say, smiling. "There are so many things to taste, but it's impossible to know where to start."

"This way!"

Willy grabbed your wrist, dragging you to the edge of the river where there were flowers whose petals looked like pale pink crystals. The chocolatier picked one of the flowers. He took out a petal and brought it to your mouth. Your cheeks began to blush, you parted your lips, slightly sticking out your tongue, allowing Willy to lay the pale pink petal there. The candy melted on your tongue, the taste was so sweet. Could the morning dew have a taste?

"Morning dew?" you asked surprised.

"Yes, a delicate candy, isn't it?" he asked, picking up a new petal that he was examining before eating it. "So fragile and refined. Kind of like you."

Hearing that, you had a hard time swallowing the candy. Why did he have to say such an embarrassing thing? You were about to ask him why he hadn't told you who he was when you got home, but Willy stuffed the candy into your mouth preventing you from asking any questions.

"Later, Barley sugar," he said in a low, deep voice, running his fingers over your cheek. "We have plenty of time."

"Daddy, look over there! What is it? It's a little person! Over there, by the waterfall," Verruca exclaimed drawing the others' attention.

Everyone was closing in on the little girl, staring at the oddly short man who was working to harvest the sweet plants. You were taken out of your contemplation by feeling someone push you, forcing you to step back. Your gaze met that of Mrs. Beauregarde. She looked you up and down before chuckling. You felt your heart sink when you saw her laughing at you. You nervously played with your fingers, unaware that the other adults had noticed several other identical little men and the story of Willy in the land of Loompaland.

"Augustus, my child! It's not a good thing you do!" growled Mrs. Gloop.

All attention was now on Augustus. The boy was on the other side of the bank, he plunged his hand into the river to drink the chocolate.

"Hey, little boy," Willy called as he approached the edge of the river. "My chocolate must be untouched by human hands!"

To everyone's surprise, Augustus lost his balance and fell headlong into the river. Mrs. Gloop gasped in shock as Willy rolled his eyes, annoyed at what was happening. The boy's mother rushed to the chocolatier telling him that her son could not swim. Despite the urgency, Willy remained impassive. His gaze rested on the pipes which were getting dangerously close. The corner of his lips quirked up as the pipe dipped into the chocolate and began sucking in the liquid. Your eyes widened as the power of the suction began to swirl, pulling poor Augustus in. The boy disappeared into the chocolate before reappearing in the pipe. The pressure from the machine increased, propelling the chubby boy into the pipe.

"There he goes," Violet said in a monotonous voice.

"Call the fire brigade!" exclaimed Mrs. Gloop panicked.

"It's a wonder how that pipe is big enough," Mrs. Beauregarde replied, ignoring Mrs. Gloop's panic.

"It isn't big enough," Charlie replied. "He's slowing down!"

"He's gonna stuck," Mike continued.

"He's stuck," Mr. Teavee said as he saw Augustus plug the pipe.

"He's blocked the whole pipe," said Mr. Salt.

Your attention was drawn to the Oompa Loompas. They had begun to hum and move in rhythm.

"What are they doing?" Veruca asked.

"They're going to treat us to a little song," Willy replied with a huge smile. "It is quite the special occasion. They haven't had a fresh audience in many a moon."

The Oompa Loompas began to sing a song about Augustus and his gluttony, all while dancing a suspicious choreography. At the end of the song, poor Augustus was sucked into the container before the "flying saucer" left the room. Willy was the only person to applaud the performance of his employees.

"Bravo! Well done!" he congratulated. "Aren't they delightful? Aren't they charming?"

"I say that all seemed rather rehearsed," Mr. Salt said suspiciously.

"Like they knew it was going to happen," Mike continued mumbling.

"Oh, poppycock," Willy replied as he walked towards the next post before being stopped by Mrs. Gloop.

"Where is my son? Where does that pipe go to?" she asked, pointing to the pipe that was pissing off her poor boy.

“That pipe, it just so happens to lead directly to the room where I make delicious strawberry-flavored chocolate-coated fudge."

"He will be made into strawberry-coated chocolate-flavored fudge! They'll be selling him by the pound all over the world?"

"No. I wouldn't allow it. The taste would be terrible! Can you imagine Augustus-flavored-chocolate-coated-Gloop? Ew! No one would buy it."

"You surprise me," you muttered.

Charlie clapped his hand over his mouth to keep from chuckling at your comment. You thought you saw Willy looking at you with an amused smile before making a strange cry. An Oompa Loompa arrived in front of his boss, eyeing him stoically. He was so small.

"I want you to take Mrs. Gloop to the fudge room, Okay? Help her find her son. Take a long stick and start poking around in the chocolate-mixing barrel, Okay?"

The Oompa Loompa nodded slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. Willy made the same gesture. The Oompa Loompa uncrossed his arms bowing in front of the chocolatier before approaching Mrs. Gloop. He tugged at her skirt, urging her to follow him. Mrs. Gloop left the room, leaving the group behind. The room had become silent.

"Mr. Wonka?"

"Huh?"

"How would Augustus' name already be in the Oompa Loompa's song, unless-?" Charlie asked.

"Improvisation is a parlor trick. Anyone can do it," Willy replied before turning to Violet. "You, little girl, say something. Anything."

"Chewing gum," she replied without hesitation.

"Chewing gum is really gross, chewing gum I hate the most. See? Exactly the same!" he said looking at new Charlies.

"No, it isn't," muttered Mike.

"You really shouldn't mumble. Because I can't understand a word you're saying," Willy said looking down at Mike before sighing and smiling. "Now, on with tour?"

The group stood in front of a tunnel entrance. A drumbeat rose through the air. A boat, resembling a candy pink seahorse was approaching. The sugar ship stopped in front of the group and the drumbeat ceased. The Oompa Loopams laughed like idiots as they eyed the group.

"What's so funny?" Violet asked irritably.

"I think it's from all those doggone cocoa beans. By the way, did you guys know that chocolate contains a property that triggers the release of endorphins? Gives one the feeling of being in love," he says as he lays his eyes on you .

You looked away, nervously clearing your throat as you put your arms around Charlier's shoulders. The boy was looking at you puzzled before his gaze landed on Willy Wonka. The atmosphere was strange. The moment was broken by Mrs. Beauregarde.

"You don't say," she said in a sultry voice.

Willy was ill at ease seeing the lustful look given to him by Mrs. Beauregarde.

"All abouard," he said nervously, motioning the group up.

The last three parents came up quickly, accompanied by their offspring. Charlie got into the boat first, settling on the last bench. You were about to get on when Willy held out his hand. You swallowed, staring at the chocolate maker who was smiling at you.

"Some help?" he asked, smiling at you.

"Yes thanks."

You took Willy's hand and climbed into the boat. You sat down next to Charlie, who snuggled up against you when he saw Willy settling down next to you. Your cousin brought his lips closer to your ear, placing his hands so no one else could hear what he was saying.

"I think Mr. Wonka likes you," he said before stepping back, chuckling.

"Stop talking nonsense," you say, shaking your head slightly.

"Onwards!"

The Oompa Loopam resumed beating the drum, setting the pace for his fellows. The boat resumed sailing, towards the entrance to the tunnel. Willy pulled out a candy pink ladle from under his seat, dipping it into the chocolate river and giving it to you.

"Here. Try some of this. It'll do you good. You look starved to death."

You took a sip of the chocolate before handing the ladle to Charlie.

"It's delicious," you say, glaring at Willy and smiling.

"That's because it's mixed by waterfall," he says smiling at you before looking at the others. "The waterfall is most important. It mixes the chocolate up. Churns it up, makes it light and frothy. And by the way, no other factory in the world-"

"You already said that," Veruca cut in, giving the chocolatier a bored look.

Willy was upset that he got cut like that. He slowly curled his finger, the leather making an unpleasant noise. The chocolatier's expression had grown stern as he looked at the children one by one.

"You're all quite short, aren't you?" he said, completely changing the subject.

"Well, yeah! We're children!" scolded Violet, continuing to chew her gum loudly.

"Well, that's no excuse! I was never as short as you."

"You were once," Mike replied.

"Was not! Know why? Because I distinctly remember placing a hat on top of my head," Willy said as he adjusted his hat on his head. "Look at you short, little arms. You could never reach."

"Do you even remember what it was like being a kid?" Charlie asked curiously, clinging to your arm.

"Boy, do I!" Willy laughed when his eyes grew cloudy and his smile faded. "Do I?"

You looked at Willy puzzled. He seemed to be reliving a painful memory. You put your hand on Willy's forearm, exerting a slight pressure that brought him out of his trance. The chocolatier turned his head towards you, his gaze boring into yours. Were you dreaming or were his eyes purple? Did he wear contact lenses? Your hand slid down his forearm, reaching for Willy's hand.

"Mr. Wonka? Mr. Wonka! We're headed for a tunnel," Charlie said.

You jumped when you realized what you were doing. You withdrew your hand from Willy's, avoiding his gaze, preferring to look at your new boots.

"Oh! Yeah," Willy replied. "Full speed ahead!"

The Oompa Loompa hit faster and the others rowed harder. The boat accelerated entering the dark tunnel. You couldn't see anything.

"How can they see where they're going?" Violet asked puzzled.

"They can't," Willy answered. "There's no knowing where they're going. Switch on the lights!"

The lights came on, illuminating the tunnel as the ship rolled forward. You couldn't suppress a terrified cry as you felt the boat being carried away by a much too fast current. On the first wave, you grabbed Willy's forearm. The chocolatier looked at you, an amused smile appeared on his lips when he saw you terrified. The boat was suddenly slowed down. You caught your breath when you realized you were holding Willy's forearm firmly. You excused yourself quickly, letting go of the chocolatier's hand, who was content to smile.

"People. Keep an eye out! We're passing some very important rooms here," Willy said looking at some strange doors.

You looked at the doors that seemed worthy of keeping safes with neon lights. Everything here was so strange. Mrs. Beauregarde's attention was drawn to a door where it was written "hair cream." Violet's mother turned to Willy, blinking.

“What do you use hair cream for?”

"To lock in moisture," the chocolate maker replied, laughing and lightly patting his hair.

You rolled your eyes, bringing your attention to the other doors. Your attention and that of Charlie was drawn to a room, the door of which was wide open, revealing Oompa Loopam whipping a cow who was quietly ruminating, not disturbed by the blows.

"Whip cream!" you say at the same time.

"Precisely!" laughed Willy, looking down at the two cousins.

"That doesn't make sense," Veruca replied, turning to the chocolatier and rolling her eyes.

Willy's smile disappeared as he turned his head towards the infamous girl.

"For your information, little girl, whipped cream isn't whipped cream at all unless it's been whipped with whips! Everybody knows that," he said with a smirk.

Veruca was shaking her head, turning her back on the chocolatier. It moved slightly, cracking the back of its neck. The interaction with Veruca had pissed him off, but he was trying to hide it. The sound of the drum grew louder and faster. Hearing that, Willy turned to you, taking your hand in his. You were watching the puzzled chocolate maker as the boat took a second steep descent. You closed your eyes clinging to Willy's arm when the ship made a complete turn on itself before slowing down abruptly.

"Stop the boat!" Willy ordered before looking at you. "I want to show you something."

"W-what?"

Willy chuckled as he pointed to the door in front of which the boat was stopping: Inventing Room.

[walker-extended-universe]

Walkerverse Character Tier List

Hello Walker Family! I'm here announcing the beginning of the Walkerverse Character Tier List series!

I've created a list of characters from Walker and Walker: Independence to put in a tier list ranking. I will be releasing a series of polls with all these characters (including pictures and brief reminders of their roles) to determine which Tier List ranking they get. Whichever option from S to F gets the most votes will become the official ranking of that character.

Here is the criteria I used to select the characters I'm putting in the poll series:

They must have a name on the imdb page

They must have a minimum of two appearances

I have to remember them, regardless of their appearance count

Single appearances that were special/memorable will also be included (ex: Uncle Willy, Minnie Jayne)

The rankings will be as follows:

S tier: Best character in the show, love them with all my heart, they can do literally nothing wrong

A tier: Beloved blorbo, one of my favorites, I'd want to be friends with them if they were real

B tier: I like them, but I have my critiques. A good character that I mostly enjoy

C tier: Mid character, not the biggest fan of them but I won't complain when they show up

D tier: I don't like them. I have many criticisms of their actions and personality. I may even dislike whole episodes because of them

F tier: Literally the worst character in the entire show. Hate them. Much dislike. I fastforward over them on rewatches.

I currently have pictures (for the poll and the complete tierlist that I will link when it is public) for 39 of the 120+ characters I put on the list, so that's where I will be starting. I will include the full list of all the characters from both shows below the cut along with the taglist.

The first poll will go up on Monday, September 23rd! Can't wait to see what you guys think!

@theladywyn, @jaredwalkertexasranger, @laf-outloud, @aborddelimpala, @mysterybeau, @sweet-sammy-kisses, @kickingitwithkirk, @rhl74, @peachparakeet, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @loveforwomenstuff, @low-soduimfreak, @ihavepointysticks, @waywardmaslow, @arte-mishuntress, @the-slythering-raven, @deeranger, @duo-kun, @inafieldofdaisies, @not-your-housekeeper98, @nancymcl, @sammysnaughtygirl

Walker:

Cordell Walker

Liam Walker

Abeline Walker

Bonham Walker

Stella Walker

August Walker

Larry James

Trey Barnett

Geri Broussard

Cassie Perez

Micki Ramirez

Colton Davidson

Ben Perez

Dan Miller

Denise Davidson

Emily Walker

Todd

Gale Davidson

Stan Morrison

Clay Cooper

Clint West

Kelly James

Kevin Golden

Isabel Munoz

Bret

Trevor Strand

Ruby

Detective David Luna

Julia Johnson

Hoyt Rawlins

Twyla Jean

Sadie Yoo

Witt

Connie

Faye

DJ James

Keesha Barnett

Carlos Mendoza

Officer Randall

Dr. Adriana Ramirez

Sean

Serano

Earl

Mercedes Ruiz

Miles Vyas

Coach Bobby

Principal Heaney

Byron Santos

Garrison (GM)

Nate Smith

Tessa Graves

Crystal West

Cali

Rita

Lana Jones

Tommy Adams

Jaxon Davis

Grant McLawson

Neo

Mike

Horace

Alma Munoz

Fenton Cole

Shannon

Lorezno Munoz

Snyder

Oswald

Marv Davidson

Jim

Mr. Golden

Spider

William

Owen Campbell

Minnie Jayne

Maybelline

Mehar

Henry

Becca Furgeson

Joanna Rawlins

Cole Tillman

Rebecca Tillman

Walker: Independence:

Abigail Walker

Hoyt Rawlins

Kate Carver

Tom Davidson

Augustus

Calian

Kai

Lucia Reyes

Shane Davidson

Hagan

Chief Taza

Francis Reyes

Luis Reyes

Ruby

Nascha

Ethan (Pinkerton Detective)

Salty Dog

Molly Sullivan

Anna Maria Reyes

Cordell the Horse

Burlesque Dancers

Teresa Davidson

Matthew

Jacob

Otis Clay

Martha Sullivan

Griffin

Liam Collins

Eli McDowd

Charlotte “Charlie” Collins

Gil Santiago

Randall

Lily

Stella Rawlins

Wordell Calker

Olivia

Topsannah

Amos Acorn

Parker Briggs

Judge Parker

Kirby Smith

Andrew Jones

Judge Carter

[christmassavestheyear]

hello, darlings✮ fic requests are closed right now - but will be open again after christmas. dividers by @saradika-graphics.

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✮ you can call me nova. ask about other nicknames, but nine times in ten i'll adore you forever if you nickname me.

basic info ✮ he/they, trans, pansexual, ambiverted infp-t, type six, sagittarius, australian, dog person, romance reader, writing is everything to me, winter>>, glasses wearer, headphones on twenty-four/seven, cd collector, spotify premium user, aspiring author, regular oversharer, real-person-shipper and rpf writer, ginger cat, ao3 addict, anti-monarchist, socialist, lacrosse player, pwhl enthusiast, seattle seahawks supporter, theatre nerd, night owl, revolutionary, moderator of the be my valentine challenge, high schooler, green is the best colour talk to the hand, i like weird science podcasts and emergency-drama shows, tote bag owner (to a mildly concerning degree), i'm an eyeliner kind of guy, i don't keep my mouth shut for anybody. free palestine!!

music ✮ one direction, conan gray, olivia rodrigo, twenty one pilots, maddie zahm, caity baser, dylan gossett, sabrina carpenter, alexander black, megan moroney, xana, kelsea ballerini, noah kahan, ed sheeran, billie eilish, five seconds of summer, cavetown, maisie peters, finneas, taylor swift, queen, hozier, girl in red, luke combs, phoebe bridgers, gracie abrams, miley cyrus, dean lewis, sixpence none the richer, morgan wallen, birdy, renée rapp, the beatles, abba, robbie williams, ashe, blackbear, dyl dion, chappell roan, luke combs

books ✮ little women, red white and royal blue, osemanverse, jane doe and the cradle of all worlds, nevermoor, boyfriend material and husband material, afterlove, the meaning of birds, the seven husbands of evelyn hugo, i kissed shara wheeler, the fault in our stars, they both die at the end, song of achilles, girl in pieces, you'd be home now, a semi-definitive list of worst nightmares

musicals ✮ come from away, hamilton, in the heights, high school musical, hsmtmts, dear evan hansen, tick tick boom, wicked, disney musicals<3, the greatest showman, the addams family musical, matilda, tina: the tina turner musical, mary poppins + returns, six, miss saigon, rocky horror, west side story, funny girl, chicago. moulin rouge, grease

movies & tv ✮ little women (2019), barbie (2023), dunkirk, don't worry darling, my policeman, julie and the phantoms, rwrb, heartstopper, 9-1-1 (and lone star), doctor who, clouds, love simon and love victor, station 19, greys anatomy, b99

my characters ✮ amy march, nina rosario, henry fox-stuart, nick nelson, christopher eccleston's doctor, achilles, ezra squall, regulus black, augustus waters, john laurens, evan buckley, carlos reyes, allen from barbie.

my ships ✮ larry stylinson, firstprince, tarlos, tevan, nick&charlie, wolfstar, jegulus, amy&laurie, morrigan&cadence, hamburr, laurette, hobama<3, eddie diaz with literally anyone (but especially josh russo)

goals and dreams ✮ i want to study abroad, publish my writing, adopt or foster kids, travel to every continent someday, volunteer with lgbt+ homeless/support shelters/charities, attend 4/5 1d boys' concerts, learn at least two languages

my sideblogs ✮ my poetry blog: @thelostboyschapter 1d lyric keywords: @onedirectionandblank

[daimonclub]

The Christmas Tree

Christmas tree legends The Christmas Tree, an article that explains its legend, origin and tradition, with some enlightening merry quotes to enrich the great value of the Christmas period. Snowflakes felt so awesome in winter season. There is a main figure in Christmas known as Santa Claus. And the main theme of Christmas is jingle bell, a very famous tune known all other the world. People use this tune a lot all over the Christmas event, and it feels so good like something very positive that will bring peace and happiness in our lives. Moving between the legs of tables and of chairs, rising or falling, grasping at kisses and toys, advancing boldly, sudden to take alarm, retreating to the corner of arm and knee, eager to be reassured, taking pleasure in the fragrant brilliance of the Christmas tree. T. S. Eliot It is curious to what a degree one may become attached to a fine tree, especially when it is placed where trees are rare. Christian Nestell Bovee The Christmas tree is the dot on the i. Frank Taylor The trees that bud and blossom forth, Throughout the world from south to north, Are tokens that a life will bloom When manhood's passed beyond the tomb. T. Augustus Forbes Leith Three things are needed to make a Christmas tree: ornaments, the tree and faith in the future. Armenian proverb I stone got crazy when I saw somebody run down them strings with a bottleneck. My eyes lit up like a Christmas tree and I said that I had to learn. Muddy Waters My beer-drenched soul is sadder than all the dead Christmas trees in the world. Charles Bukowski He who has not Christmas in his heart will never find it under a tree. Roy L. Smith It’s not what’s under the Christmas tree that matters, it’s who’s around it. Charlie Brown A Christian should resemble a fruit tree with real fruit, not a Christmas tree with decorations tied on. John Stott The best of all gifts around any Christmas tree: the presence of a happy family all wrapped up in each other. Burton Hillis

Christmas tree origins I grew up with a Christmas tree, I’m going to stay with a Christmas tree. Thomas Menino The perfect Christmas tree, all Christmas trees are perfect. Charles N. Barnard Some Christmas tree ornaments do more than glitter and glow, they represent a gift of love given a long time ago. Tom Baker The Christmas tree is beautiful only when it is finished and when the lights can be turned on, the crib is not, the crib is beautiful when you do it or even when you think about it. Luciano De Crescenzo Taking down the Christmas tree makes it feel official: time to get back to joyless and cynical. Greg Fitzsimmons I never thought it was such a bad little tree. It’s not bad at all, really. Maybe it just needs a little love. Linus Van Pelt What will we find under the Christmas tree this year? Oh my God, I think the roots! Carl William Brown Glittering tinsel, lights, glass balls, and candy canes dangle from pine trees. Richelle E. Goodrich The best Christmas trees come very close to exceeding nature. Andy Rooney There is new life in the soil for every man. There is healing in the trees for tired minds and for our overburdened spirits, there is strength in the hills, if only we will lift up our eyes. Remember that nature is your great restorer. Calvin Coolidge The earth reminded us of a Christmas tree ornament hanging in the blackness of space. As we got farther and farther away it diminished in size. Finally it shrank to the size of a marble, the most beautiful marble you can imagine. James Irwin Christmas tree stands are the work of the devil and they want you dead. Bill Bryson Look at a tree, a flower, a plant. Let your awareness rest upon it. How still they are, how deeply rooted in Being. Allow nature to teach you stillness. Eckhart Tolle He that planteth a tree is the servant of God, He provideth a kindness for many generations, And faces that he hath not seen shall bless him. Henry Van Dyke

Christmas tree quotes Now I’m an old Christmas tree, the roots of which have died. They just come along and while the little needles fall off me replace them with medallions. Orson Welles Never worry about the size of your Christmas tree. In the eyes of children, they are all 25 feet tall. Larry Wilde They’ve got plastic Christmas trees now. They’re hard to tell from the real aluminum ones. Milton Berle I was only kicking down the Christmas tree to get the star on top. Ray Bradbury I don’t know what I believe. I guess that makes me a christmas tree agnostic. Stephanie Perkins Only look what is still on the ugly old Christmas tree!" said he, trampling on the branches, so that they all cracked beneath his feet. And the Tree beheld all the beauty of the flowers, and the freshness in the garden; he beheld himself, and wished he had remained in his dark corner in the loft; he thought of his first youth in the woods, of the merry Christmas Eve, and of the little Mice who had listened with so much pleasure to the story of Klumpy-Dumpy. Hans Christian Andersen A Christmas tree, the perfect gift for a guy. The plant is already dead. Jay Leno The Christmas tree, twinkling with lights, had a mountain of gifts piled up beneath it, like offerings to the great god of excess. Tess Gerritsen A dog looking at a lit Christmas tree thinks: they finally put the light in the toilet. Romano Bertola Christmas trees don’t grow on trees; they need rainbows, lumberjacks, and Leprechauns on unicorns playing jock jams on glockenspiels. Ryan Ross Make your plate look like a Christmas tree, I tell people, mostly green with splashes of other bright colors. Victoria Moran There’s no experience quite like cutting your own live Christmas tree out of your neighbor’s yard. Dan Florence

True natural Christmas trees The smell of pine needles, spruce and the smell of a Christmas tree, those to me, are the scents of the holidays. Blake Lively Christmas is a very enjoyable event ever. It is a great feast for everyone. Kids, adults and grandparents. Everyone enjoy this occasion very much. Parents give presents to their children and this brings happiness in their hearts. An enormous amount of joy comes through this period which is a real gem for us. Therefore how could we avoid talking of one of the main symbol of this religious celebration, which is certainly the Christmas Tree, so let's read about its fascinating history. The Christmas tree today is a common custom to most of us. There are many interesting connections to ancient traditions such as Egyptian and Roman customs, early Christian practices, and Victorian nostalgia. However, most scholars point to Germany as being the origin of the Christmas tree. Long before the advent of Christianity, plants and trees that remained green all year had a special meaning for people in the winter. Just as people today decorate their homes during the festive season with pine, spruce, and fir trees, ancient peoples hung evergreen boughs over their doors and windows. In many countries it was believed that evergreens would keep away witches, ghosts, evil spirits, and illness. In the Northern hemisphere, the shortest day and longest night of the year falls on December 21 or December 22 and is called the winter solstice. Many ancient people believed that the sun was a god and that winter came every year because the sun god had become sick and weak. They celebrated the solstice because it meant that at last the sun god would begin to get well. Evergreen boughs reminded them of all the green plants that would grow again when the sun god was strong and summer would return. The ancient Egyptians worshipped a god called Ra, who had the head of a hawk and wore the sun as a blazing disk in his crown. At the solstice, when Ra began to recover from his illness, the Egyptians filled their homes with green palm rushes, which symbolized for them the triumph of life over death.

Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree Early Romans marked the solstice with a feast called Saturnalia in honor of Saturn, the god of agriculture. The Romans knew that the solstice meant that soon, farms and orchards would be green and fruitful. To mark the occasion, they decorated their homes and temples with evergreen boughs. In Northern Europe the mysterious Druids, the priests of the ancient Celts, also decorated their temples with evergreen boughs as a symbol of everlasting life. The fierce Vikings in Scandinavia thought that evergreens were the special plant of the sun god, Balder. One of the earliest stories relating back to Germany is about Saint Boniface. In 722, he encountered some pagans who were about to sacrifice a child at the base of a huge oak tree. He cut down the tree to prevent the sacrifice and a Fir tree grew up at the base of the oak. He then told everyone that this lovely evergreen, with its branches pointing to heaven, was a holy tree - the tree of the Christ child, and a symbol of His promise of eternal life. Germany is credited with starting the Christmas tree tradition as we now know it in the 16th century when devout Christians brought decorated trees into their homes. Some built Christmas pyramids of wood and decorated them with evergreens and candles if wood was scarce. Another story tells that perhaps it was Martin Luther responsible for the origin of the Christmas tree. This story says that one Christmas Eve, about the year 1500, he was walking through the snow-covered woods and was struck by the beauty of the snow glistened trees. Their branches, dusted with snow, shimmered in the moon light. When he got home, he set up a small fir tree and shared the story with his children. He decorated the Christmas tree with small candles, which he lighted in honor of Christ's birth. Another legend says that in the early 16th century, people in Germany combined two customs that had been practiced in different countries around the globe. The Paradise tree (a fir tree decorated with apples) represented the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden of Eden.

Christmas tree in Rio de Janeiro The Christmas Light, a small, pyramid-like frame, usually decorated with glass balls, tinsel and a candle on top, was a symbol of the birth of Christ as the Light of the World. Changing the tree’s apples to tinsel balls and cookies and combining this new tree with the light placed on top, the Germans created the tree that many of us know today. In the 1840s and 50s, Queen Victoria and Prince Albert popularized the Christmas tree in England. Prince Albert decorated a tree and ever since that time, the English, because of their love for their Queen, copied her Christmas customs including the Christmas tree and ornaments. An engraving of the Royal Family celebrating Christmas at Windsor was published in 1848 and their German traditions were copied and adapted. Another story about the origin of the Christmas tree says that late in the Middle Ages, Germans and Scandinavians placed evergreen trees inside their homes or just outside their doors to show their hope that spring would soon come. Most 19th-century Americans found Christmas trees an oddity. The first record of one being on display was in the 1830s by the German settlers of Pennsylvania, although trees had been a tradition in many German homes much earlier. The Pennsylvania German settlements had community trees as early as 1747. But, as late as the 1840s Christmas trees were seen as pagan symbols and not accepted by most Americans. It is not surprising that, like many other festive Christmas customs, the tree was adopted so late in America. To the New England Puritans, Christmas was sacred. The pilgrims’s second governor, William Bradford, wrote that he tried hard to stamp out "pagan mockery" of the observance, penalizing any frivolity. The influential Oliver Cromwell preached against "the heathen traditions" of Christmas carols, decorated trees, and any joyful expression that desecrated "that sacred event." In 1659, the General Court of Massachusetts enacted a law making any observance of December 25 (other than a church service) a penal offense; people were fined for hanging decorations. That stern solemnity continued until the 19th century, when the influx of German and Irish immigrants undermined the Puritan legacy. The early 20th century saw Americans decorating their trees mainly with homemade ornaments, while the German-American sect continued to use apples, nuts, and marzipan cookies. Popcorn joined in after being dyed bright colors and interlaced with berries and nuts. Electricity brought about Christmas lights, making it possible for Christmas trees to glow for days on end. With this, Christmas trees began to appear in town squares across the country and having a Christmas tree in the home became an American tradition.

Christmas tree best wishes Research into customs of various cultures shows that greenery was often brought into homes at the time of the winter solstice. It symbolized life in the midst of death in many cultures. The Romans were known to deck their homes with evergreens during of Kalends of January 15. Living trees were also brought into homes during the old Germany feast of Yule, which originally was a two month feast beginning in November. The Yule tree was planted in a tub and brought into the home. But there is no evidence that the Christmas tree is a direct descendent of the Yule tree. Evidence does point to the Paradise tree however. This story goes back to the 11th century religious plays. One of the most popular was the Paradise Play. The play depicted the story of the creation of Adam and Eve, their sin, and their banishment from Paradise. The only prop on the stage was the Paradise tree, a fir tree adorned with apples. The play would end with the promise of the coming Savior and His Incarnation. The people had grown so accustomed to the Paradise tree, that they began putting their own Paradise tree up in their homes on December 24. Christmas trees have been sold commercially in the United States since about 1850. In 1979, the National Christmas Tree was not lighted except for the top ornament. This was done in honor of the American hostages in Iran. The tallest living Christmas tree is believed to be the 122-foot, 91-year-old Douglas fir in the town of Woodinville, Washington. The Rockefeller Center Christmas tree tradition began in 1933. Franklin Pierce, the 14th president, brought the Christmas tree tradition to the White House. In 1923, President Calvin Coolidge started the National Christmas Tree Lighting Ceremony now held every year on the White House lawn. Since 1966, the National Christmas Tree Association has given a Christmas tree to the President and first family. Most Christmas trees are cut weeks before they get to a retail outlet. In 1912, the first community Christmas tree in the United States was erected in New York City. Christmas trees generally take six to eight years to mature. Christmas trees are grown in all 50 states including Hawaii and Alaska. 90 percent of all Christmas trees are grown on farms. More than 1,000,000 acres of land have been planted with Christmas trees. On average, over 2,000 Christmas trees are planted per acre. You should never burn your Christmas tree in the fireplace. It can contribute to creosote buildup. Other types of trees such as cherry and hawthorns were used as Christmas trees in the past. Thomas Edison’s assistants came up with the idea of electric lights for Christmas trees. In 1963, the National Christmas Tree was not lit until December 22nd because of a national 30-day period of mourning following the assassination of President Kennedy. Teddy Roosevelt banned the Christmas tree from the White House for environmental reasons. On the contrary the 2020 Christmas Tree is an 18 ½ foot Fraser Fir from West Virginia. It will serve as a centerpiece for Christmas decorations in the Blue Room of the White House. The White House Christmas Tree must stand 18-19 feet tall and reach the ceiling of the Blue Room, where the chandelier is removed each holiday season to accommodate the tree. And last but not least, if you want to choose the perfect Christmas tree visit the website of The American Christmas Tree Association (ACTA) which is a non-profit organization established to help families create holiday memories and build traditions by choosing the perfect Christmas tree. www.christmastreeassociation.org/ Instead if you need a good short story for your children about Christmas or the Christmas tree, you can find many of them at this link: https://americanliterature.com/author/hans-christian-andersen/short-story/the-fir-tree Top 10 Tallest Christmas Trees in The World Read also our other posts on Christmas  ; Christmas quotes ; 60 great Christmas quotes ; Christmas tree origin and quotes ;  Traditional Christmas Carols ; Christmas jokes ; Christmas markets in England ; Christmas cracker jokes ; Christmas food ; Christmas thoughts ; Read the full article

[amazildoessomethingstupid]

Chapter 85: Total Recall

Well, now that we’ve had a good laugh and some great times, it’s time to get into the big stuff.  We’ve had our sweet fun chapters, but now it’s time we get serious as we get into Chapter 85: Total Recall. By far one of the most memorable chapters in BCB, with the second most impactful moment in recent memory!

Look we get one alright? I get one.  What was the most impactful moment you ask? Oh, that’s easy!

Why yes, I am proud of myself. Very much so, thank you for asking, your boos make it all the more worth it.  But seriously, Total Recall is an interesting chapter to revisit because going back to reread it’s allowed me to bring up and talk about some of the moments that got overshadowed by that one big moment and the little things that lead to it. One thing I want to point out though about the early part of this chapter though, is all the callbacks!

It straight up just pokes at the carnival chapter! Which I guess it has to since it’s another prom chapter, so it would naturally draw comparison to the previous prom chapter, but still it’s worth mentioning since BCB has this nasty habit of preferring to push aside things from Volume 1 that it doesn’t like.  With a common consensus at the time being, “NEW READERS SHOULD START FROM VOLUME 2! THAT’S THE BEST WAY TO READ BCB!” And while yes, we did also get nods to past gags during the Stacy chapter but that was a commissioned chapter with a character that hadn’t been relevant SINCE Volume 1. But here it’s more in your face and lingers on that a lot, with whole pages used to remind you of what happened, and how far Paulo has come in his romantic journey.  But it’s not just Paulo though, as that jab at the carnival wasn’t just a one-off! It actually sets up THIS scene:

Yeah! The awkward talk between Daisy and Augustus, that reaffirms his character and shows that the AU of Love My Way was correct in that he was just intending for that moment to be nothing more than a kiss, but it was still over the line?  The scene where Daisy repells Augustus, but tells him that he needs help? THAT WAS IN THIS CHAPTER! I COMPLETELY FORGOT! I bet you did too, didn’t you?  But as for the actual chapter, Paulo goes to the junior prom and we get to spend time with all of them!  Of course, Rachel, but also Jess, Matt and Jordan who is…

Going through his own character arc it seems.  And I love it! It harkens to a critique I had with the comic at the time, and even now in that it shows that there is life outside of the main characters’ plotlines!  While I’ve complained and maintain that Jordan’s no-good-very-bad-inconsequential love square is fucking POINTLESS; in here it helps flesh out the world a bit.  Much like the Stacy chapter, it shows that these side-characters we may not care about have lives of their own, their own little drama arcs and romantic interests, it’s nice! Although it’s weird to compare him to Mi- wait a second…

oh ha. Ha. Very funny Taeshi- IS THAT WHY ROXY GETS SHOVED ASIDE AND CAST AWAY LIKE SHE NEVER EXISTED? IS THAT MEANT TO BE LIKE HOW MIKE TREATED LUCY? *hissss* positivity. Positivity… BUT WE WERE ROBBED! Everyone gushes over how adorable the twink team is...

BUT WE HAD THIS CUTIE PATOOTIE WAIFU BAIT RIGHT HERE! SHE HAD A FUCKING NAME! SHE HAD POTENTIAL! WE WERE RRRRROOOOBBBBBEEEED! Ahhh oh well.  The girls hang back as the boys drive home, and we are treated to an actually nice bit where Jordan sympathizes with Paulo a bit, and it’s sweet before they all get Charlie St. Cloud’d an-… OH MY GOD I GET TO USE THIS PHRASE! OH MY GOD GET IN THE CAR, WE GOTTA GO RIGHT NOW! I GOTTA SHOW YOU SOMETHING!

So “Getting Charlie St. Cloud’d” is a term that I and only I ever use.  If you find another person using that term, that is me do not reveal yourself until the time is right.  I have been waiting YEARS to use the term, because it perfectly describes a common trope in media.  The phrase comes from the movie Charlie St. Cloud. Have you ever seen Charlie St. Cloud?  No! Of course you haven’t, it’s a stupid boring fucking movie from 2010 that is only known for two things.  One being that it starred Zach Efron hot off the heels of High School Musical in a dumb melodrama about a guy talking to his little ghost brother, but the other was that in the trailer for the movie it prominently featured the trope where two characters are having a benign conversation where out of fucking now-

And now the cursed knowledge of the phrase, “Getting Charlie St. Clouded” is in your brain tooooo.  But jokes aside, we really should talk about this scene because it does something very very well.  Pacing.  And I know, I joke and poke and get angry at the overuse of splash pages in recent chapters.  Going so far as making a drinking game out of Eternal Flame for how many there were in that but in Total Recall? I’m going to tell you to do something that I would never tell you to do under any other circumstance because this is actually important.  I want you, to stop right now.  And go to the official Bittersweet Candy Bowl website- NOW DON’T CLICK ANYTHING YET, DO NOT LOOK AT THE FRONT PAGE! Okay, DON’T read the comic.  Glance at the pretty colors, but do not even read the words. I’m going to guide you through this, okay? this next part may be tricky but I need to be particular about this.  Some people reading this may not have actually read BCB, so we have to be VERY delicate, and VERY particular about this.  This is a live bomb we are handling and I do not want to be responsible for any of you who have not been caught in this hellhole, to fall for it now! So, keep your eyes firmly at the top of your screen.  Where it says Bittersweet Candy Bowl, right underneath there are going to be a few words.  You are going to click the word “Archive”, now this is very important there are going to be a list of chapters DO NOT CLICK ANY OF THEM YET! You are going to count the numbers and scroll down the list until you find number 85. Total Recall.  If you see a banner that says “Volume Six” you have scrolled too far! Calmly but firmly scroll a  little further up and you should see Chapter 85.  Now you will notice that under that chapter’s description there are a few titled links.  You are going to click the link that says “Blinding Light” it should take you to page 25 of 42.  Click on that comic page, and you will see what makes this scene with all its splash pages… blows every other excuse for “pacing splash pages” out of the water.  It is fantastic.  It’s minimal, and it’s Taeshi at her most brilliant.  It’s dramatic pacing in a webcomic done right. It’s Taeshi utilizing her artistic talent to perfectly set a scene.  The stark contrast of pages filled with word bubbles to a hard splash page of white ruggedly brushed to fade into black.  The realistic watercolors working in perfect comparison to the cartoonish artstyle we had been accustomed to in Volume 5. Fading softly into white again to reintroduce us to the cartoonish style in a bouquet of flowers. The use of longer vertical pages to turn what could’ve been three splash pages of nothing into only two pages! It doesn’t waste your time, it perfectly itself and puts you into the place of Paulo’s waning consciousness.  And we see the light at the end of the tunnel.

it’s SO good! There’s a reason it’s the one thing people remember from The Paulo Show.  The way this scene is handled, perfectly exemplifies what Taeshi is capable of.  This was what made me realize that Taeshi wasn’t good.  She was great.  She was an artist, and she is able to do fantastic work.  Even when the characters look like munchkins, she could turn it serious and make you shut up without missing a beat. I mean think about it.  Paulo just got Charlie St. Cloud’d one of the oldest tricks in the book, we get baited with Lucy coming back when we know that wasn’t happening.  It was bait to make us think Lucy was there to see Paulo when even back then I knew that it wasn’t just for him. It was because her brother was in the car too when it got wrecked, and so her family probably insisted she come see him. But none of that mattered. Because this scene was fucking PERFECT.

AND THE AFTER CARE IS GOOD TOO! We get everyone showing up to Paulo’s bedside and showing that they care, it’s filled with some well-needed comic relief that much like the rest of The Paulo Show, is really fun and sweet.

 And it’s capped off by a talk with Tess explaining how like Paulo she too has progressed and moved on from who she was in that last prom chapter. She shows that she’s in a better place now, and is able to move on.  Yeah, it’s kinda forced and it’s blatant exposition to explain her lack of presence in the last two volumes but… It doesn’t matter.

10/10

It was perfect

[verucastutu]

THE ONLY VALID CATCF SHIPS.

Willy × Wonka.

Charlie × chocolate factory.

Augustus × sausages/chocolate bars.

Violet × gums.

Mike × videogames.

Veruca × squirrel.

[cuuno-moved]

I traced a picture of him because i want to show him to you, here he is, his name is Augustus Gloop like the kid from charlie and the chocolate factory and he's big and dumb and he's got a little white spot on his forehead that my mom calls the kiss button

the kiss button,,, here's my baby:

her name is havoc (a reference to that one shakespeare that's like "cry havoc and let slip the hounds of war") she's a shitzu- toy poodle mix and she's absolutely a microorganism

[incorrect-catcf-quotes]

Mike, typing at a computer: To: Santa. Subject: Me. Dear Santa, I have been good all year. Please see attached photos.

{Mike hugging Charlie}

{Mike patting Veruca on the head}

{Mike kissing Violet}

{Mike playing badminton with Augustus}

Wonka: This is fraud, you know.

Mike: {trying to take a photo of himself and Wonka using his phone} Shut up and smile!

[wonkasmissstarshine]

I vould like to send chocolate flowers to mike *kisses his cheek* und to mr Wonka und Charlie visout a kiss. -Augustus Gloop

Thanks, Augustus. That’s very kind of you!

- Charlie Bucket 🎫

Very much appreciated, Augustus. Especially the not kissing part. It would be very weird.

- Willy Wonka 🍫

[rotten-chocolate]

Veruca: *falls down the stairs*

Mike: *catches her* I think you just

Mike: ....

Mike: fell for me..

Veruca: Put me down.

~~~

Violet: *sitting on Mikes lap* GIVE ME ATTENTION!

Mike: We were just making out two seconds ago!

Violet: I don’t see your point.

~~~

Augustus: *eating a bratwurst* This tastes amazing!

Veruca: Can I try?

Augustus: Sure!

Veruca: *kisses Augustus* Your right, it does taste good!

Augustus: *blushes*

~~~

Violet: *mocking* I know you love me, you wanna hug me, you wanna kiss me..

Veruca: *walks over to Violet and leans like she’s gonna kiss her*

Violet: *blushes*

Veruca: *bites Violet Wonka bar and walks away*

Violet: I FU*KING HATE YOU!

~~~

Mike: As far as I’m concerned, I don’t blush!

Charlie: Oh really, what if I do this? *kisses Mikes cheek*

Mike: Nope

Charlie: What about this? *kisses his other cheek*

Mike: Nah

Charlie: *kisses him on the lips*

Mike: Still nothing.

Charlie: I give up! *walks out of the room*

Mike: *turns as red as a tomato*

~~~

Augustus: I want to cuddle!

Mike: We can do more than just cuddle if you want? *smirks*

Augustus: What, like sleep?

Mike: *inhales deeply* yes sleep.

~~~

Mike: *trips over* ahh!Vi, can you help me up please?

Violet: Uhh, nah your fine!

Charlie: *gets a paper cut* ouch!

Violet: OMG CHARLIE!! YOUR BLEEDING! HERE LET ME HELP YOU, POOR THING!!

Mike: I-

~~~

Augustus: *throwing rocks at Vi’s window*

Violet: I GAVE YOU A PHONE FOR A REASON!

Augustus: *thump*

Violet: DID YOU JUST THROW YOUR PHONE AT THE WINDOW?!

~~~

Veruca: Gosh! It’s cold!

Charlie: Here take my hoodie!

Veruca: Awww thanks

*an hour later*

Veruca: *aggressively inhaling Charlie’s hoodie while curled up inside it* your never getting this back!

~~~

Augustus: *fixing something* Veruca! Can you give me a hand please?

Veruca: *holds Auggies hand*

Augustus: ...

Augustus: Cute, but not what I meant.

[funkyjunkyfangz]

30 (music ask)

30- what soundtracks do you enjoy listening to the most

ok you asked the danny elfman stan what he likes listening to so you know what's coming lmao

i do like TNBC and corpse bride a lot, i listen to them in my free time- but WHY are none of you paying attention to the bops that are the charlie and the chocolate factory songs. i may or may not have augustus gloop stuck in my head. the horn section is *chefs kiss* and mike teavee is too short.

i also like the undertale soundtrack, yeah i know i know but the songs are fun. and no my favorite song from there is not megalovania. it's death by glamour lmao

if you got any soundtrack recs hmu I'd love to hear 'em

[aveaugvstus]

❛ You made a mistake. Everybody makes them. Even me. I’ve made many. It’s only fair that you made one. ❜

it’s strange how the passage of time warps and bends around the shape of the people in your life, the silhouettes they carve from the liminal space of your soul — it’s like that thing about stars and how when you’re looking up at the night sky, you’re actually looking at stars that could be already be dead a hundred years ago, their fading requiem only just now reaching earth’s stratosphere, a thousand light years away. 

this is what it feels like to see vladimir standing in the door frame of his childhood bedroom looking like the ghost of fuck-ups past.  (  he has no lock now, which is mildly insulting and excruciatingly patronising; he’s an addict, not bloody suicidal, but to his family the distinction might as well be non-existent.  )  he looks different, and also like nothing has changed at all in a way that august can’t quite pinpoint. it’s as if he’s lost his ability to translate him; the myriad tiny, insignificant nuances and habits he used to obsessively decrypt with his very own rosetta stone, a whole stele for the vladimir yamatov script, forgotten like a dead language. or maybe he no longer cares to. he doesn’t know if that should make him feel nostalgic, or furious, or bittersweet. feeling particularly strongly about anything these days is a herculean task in and of itself. which, he supposes, was the original sin that instigated everything to begin with.

he thinks he can remember asking vladimir to come home.

he thinks he can almost remember begging, knees in the dirt and gravel scraping his flesh raw, over voicemail like a needy fling who had accidentally gone and done the thing you and every other idiot knows you’re not supposed to do, and fallen. 

he thinks he might have begged for absolution. 

but that could have also been the sixth line of blow cut with ketamine and procaine and only god and the devil knows what else  (  he’d been desperate, it was three a.m. in camden  )  and he’s composed text messages nay, goddamn fucking letters, ad nauseam, ad infinitum, like he’s on the receiving end of some dear john bullshit, and he’s never been sure which of them actually made it to the send button. he’s smashed, or lost, or misplaced, half a dozen phones, for all the futile effort to replace them. collateral damage in the dawning realisation that vladimir wasn’t replying because he was mercilessly leaving him on read, but because he wasn’t receiving them at all, and judging by his infrequent instagram updates, was doing absolutely fine / fuck him, happy / having the time of his fucking life on his primitive anti-tech detox.

for a moment, he entertains the fleeting, whimsical distraction that this could be yet another delusion. after all, he’s conjured vladimir enough times that this wouldn’t be unusual.  (  why, sometimes i’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.  )  he has imagined vladimir heartsick, wretchedly beside himself with guilt. he has painted him alabastrine, cold and immovable, patron saint raphael of the lost and the meek indifferent to august’s self-inflicted torment. he has envisioned him lit with madness, seized in catastrophic rage, gripping him by the jaw and rattling his bones till he might see reason. there were other imaginings, too, steeped in the unspeakable, tauntings of an uninhibited mind free to conceptualise the reality of its most ludicrous desire. in the worst dream, the most terrible, most fantastical one, vladimir comes home because of him. for him. it plays out like the final scene of a cult romantic comedy, or the odyssey, maybe, much-enduring odysseus returning home to penelope at last. two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk, their hands meeting as light spills in a flood, the sky pouring out the sun. and he would take his other-soul’s face in his hands and kiss him and say the words this lifetime’s vladimir would never say.

there is, of course, a singular difference in this one. this vladimir. the vladimir he filled his dreams with never looked at him like this. with this curious amalgamation of horror and — most tellingly so; am i not what you expected, vladimir? how did you imagine you would find me? beatific? flourishing? — disgust. 

august knows what he looks like. five shades too pale and ashen, like the vivacity has been drained right out of him. a layer of grease shines in his hair, the fade he alway maintains with meticulous care and precision grown out into his natural, unruly curls. he’s not quite skeletal, his frame was always too lean and muscular for that, but he seems perilously thin for his height. it shows in his face, he knows even though he’s been avoiding mirrors and isn’t allowed one anyway, because a) addicts use those to cut their coke, and b) suicidal ones might be inclined to break them, he knows because of the way his mum looks at him when she comes into his room to bring him his meals three times a day like a convict. it hurts him a little, more than the physical pain of looking at vladimir, of hearing his voice, that he sees him like this. he had not been informed in advance that vladimir would come calling. if he had, he would’ve — he doesn’t know what he would’ve done  (  attempted an escape, maybe; broken his twelve-day sobriety, maybe  )  but he might’ve. cleaned up a little. tried to look less like a shell of himself. augustus has always been vain, has always been a gilded, preening thing who took great pride in being pretty and well-loved for it. it pains him. not to be even that anymore. he is rusted. tarnished.

if he had known, maybe he would have told vladimir not to come. 

now that he is here, he is split in two, cleaved in half by the urge to tell him to go and the more pressing compulsion to make him stay to never go never leave again never go anywhere that is out of his sight out of his life out of him. 

his ambivalence makes him poor company and a poorer conversationalist. not that this is entirely his fault — what are they supposed to do? chat about the weather and trade perfunctory banter just to fill the air? he’d rather do a line right here in front of vladimir. 

your hair is longer, august had said. the only thing other than what are you doing here, which had come out of his mouth, part-shock and part-petulance, when his mother had opened the door and presented vladimir like some screwed-up surprise gift for reaching a whopping week and a half of not being a fucking disappointment to everyone around him. so, now he can disappoint the person that matters most fundamentally, tortuously, to him in the world, too. how delightful.

vladimir’s hair being longer is the only thing he can think to say that doesn’t make him want to give in to the pulverising sensation in his head, in his bones, in his chest, screaming for a deus ex machina reprieve. if this is what they have come to — the two of them, who had spent their entire lives talking about nothing and everything till they could anticipate exactly what the other’s response would be — augustus is glad he didn’t come home sooner. he looks handsome, which feels like another slight against august’s pride. rugged and sun-soaked like a male model cum travel influencer, but one that actually does something meaningful with his life. time, and sunlight, and the kind of hard labour that builds muscle definition and character, has certainly been kinder to him than it has been to august. he doesn’t say you look good because that would sound like he has any remotely positive feelings towards this interaction, and, indeed, the cause of vladimir’s looking like a golden, newly-anointed demi-god. it seems they have traded places. or maybe vladimir is exactly who he was always supposed to be. and august is, too.

august supposes it’s the silence, and the reality that vladimir cannot abide it either, that prompts him to say what he does.

what happened?

he doesn’t say anything for a long moment, he drifts in the absence of an answer because he is allowed to, because he is technically, partially an invalid now, and people who are sick are allowed to be not altogether there. 

(  sick. malaised. he likes this word for it. he likes that there is a scientific explanation for what he is. a brain disease. a diagnosable mental illness. see, vladimir, he almost wants to say, a little deranged part of him finally gleeful at not having a pedestal to stand on anymore, you aren’t special. i’m fucked up now, too.  )

well, vladimir. it’s a very long story that i don’t care to repeat as i’ve recounted the tales to you so many times through missives you were never inclined to respond to. there was angel, and bennie, there was emmy, and good old molly. ah, and charlie, my favourite of the lot. ours was a whirldwind love affair. but it turns out i loved him more than he loved me. seems like i have a nasty little habit of doing that. it’s one i haven’t learned to kick yet.

god — august...

it’s the look of wrenching disgust, again. the thing that twists and snakes across vladimir’s face and awakes something snarling and animal shackled to august’s throat, something that slams into him chest-first and doesn’t stop until it’s gone right through him, left him raw, all bloodied edge and teeth.

what happened? what happened? what’s the point of asking now when it’s all been said and done. how long am i supposed to carry this black mark? until everyone around me deigns to let me bury it? i’m not a fucking child.

it’s not an explanation, which is what vladimir is after. he would know, however, if he had bothered to answer august any of those times. he would know, he would have known, if he hadn’t left august in their bed that morning at the warwickshire summer palace and run from everything they’d ever touched. they’d had the world world in their hands in that bed, in that room, in that place of stolen summer outside of time, outside of life itself. they could have had — everything. everything august had to give. and he gave it, and vladimir looked him in the eye and decided it was not for him.

you made a mistake. everybody makes them. even me. i’ve made many. it’s only fair that you made one.

he feels each word grate right through him, each syllable catching on his skin like little knives, the thin strand keeping him tethered to the present grinding down into dust and bone. he doesn’t blame vladimir for what happened to him. he blames him for leaving. but it’s a mistake that vladimir won’t — can’t acknowledge because to do that, he would have to admit to the thing he doesn’t want to say, or can’t say, and august can’t make him say it. that’s what made him do it, the first night at that grimy, filthy club in the berlin underground. that’s what made him want to trade his soul for just a night of rapture so euphoric he wouldn’t have to remember how fucking miserable it was to be unloved by the one person you thought you were meant for. but then, it’s never just one night is it? it couldn’t have been. you don’t get over something like that with one goddamn night.

(  if august were honest, and his heart not surrendered, he would say it was this, too: that vladimir could walk away from them, has always been able to walk away, and think nothing of it. him. that vladimir had found purpose and higher meaning in something other than themselves and the stupid, foolish, boyish dreams they used to talk about like they might someday happen. that august had disappointed him somehow by, what, not being enough? not living up to the unearned greatness that vladimir saw in him and was supposedly the only person in the world who could? that vladimir would forge a path for himself in life that diverged from august and not feel his soul rending itself in half to be half a world away from him, and survive it. — it was enough to ruin him then, it still ruins him now.  )

“if you’ve come all this way just to lecture to me, you can sod the fuck off back to phuket or hanoi or fucking antarctica if that’s what you want. maybe there’s some disease-riddled penguins out there that you can save to sate your saviour complex. saint francis of assisi. a non-shitty mother teresa. malala.”

he’s exhausted before the first word leaves his mouth, strung out just with the effort of starting, but he can’t stop them now any more than he can stop the hunger and thirst clawing at his head howling for a drop of blood, a pound of flesh, any part of him that it can cannibalise in retribution for starving. it’s easier to be cruel than to be wounded, better to be the conqueror than the fallen — but right now it just feels like he is going through his twelfth or two hundredth day of withdrawal and the boy he loves has come back but not the way august wanted and not the way he wants to be wanted. it hurts just to look at him, it hurts to have him looking back. every part of his body aches with dependence, codependence. they’re the definition of it. see what happens to me when you are not in my life?

alexander lay on hephaestion’s bed for three days. but you are not him. you are just a spoiled, arrogant, silver-spooned nothing who will never amount to greatness, glory, or anything at all. it is no wonder he would not have you.

his rage breaks, like sea foam crashing against cliffs; it rends and shatters down the fault line mapped throughout his body, the one that winds from his throat to his sternum, down to his thighs and feet, and aches forever mostly at his heel. helpless to the unbidden trembling of his hands as he curls them around the sheets of his bed, unmoored. he looks small and disarmed, more lost than he’s ever been with vladimir by his side. it doesn’t mean the same thing anymore, does it? not if he cannot make vladimir stay. whatever they had between them — is it damaged, now. they could rebuild it, but the foundations would still bear the memory of where the cracks lie. he would still remember this look on vladimir’s face.

he has looked at him a thousand times, and there has always been an echo reverberating between them. the wavelength of an elegy he knows the words to like they are writ upon heartbeat, upon headstone. there have been other faces, but vladimir’s eyes have always been the same. fathomless as distant stars in an entire universe light years away and yet close enough to touch if he dared to. if it is fate, or circumstance, or a reiteration of the immortality that stands between them and their freedom, then he already knows how this ends. vladimir knows it, too. it doesn’t make him want it any less. it doesn’t make him suffer for it any less. this ache he has spent an eternity chasing after, this feeling of being so incandescently alive that even death cannot keep them apart, this is what vladimir ran from. augustus cannot blame him. if he was not the one who always outlived him, he’d do the same.

“is this why you came back? because you think you can save me, too?”

[charliekeeting]

pure pleasure - drowners

this whole “i could love you in secret” gives charlie big augustus vibes.

They definitely didn’t think that anything would come out of the chaotic conversation at the White House Correspondent’s Dinner. Now look at them. They kept the note from the flowers in their purse. His number is still in their phone. And Charlie can’t stop thinking about how damn magical that kiss on the edge of the pool felt. 

Fuck.

They’re not falling or crushing. Nope. Not again.

[alindakb]

Letters to my Parents - Tuesday 18 Augustus 1992 - by Alinda

Tuesday 18 Augustus 1992

Dear mom and dad,

Things are a little better than they were the last time I wrote to you. After I had been locked up for three days I woke up from a horrible dream to find Ron Weasley outside my window. I was so happy to see his freckled-face, his red hair and long nose. I hurried to the window and opened it so we could talk. My mouth fell open when I saw that he was hanging out of the back window of an old turquoise car, which was parked in mid-air. Ron’s twin brothers Fred and George were grinning at me from the front seats.

Ron wanted to know what had been going on, that Hermione had written to him that she hadn’t heard from me or Draco all summer, even though she had sent both of us letters. Ron said she was very worried and afraid something bad had happened to us. And then Ron’s dad had come home with the news that an official warning for using magic in front of Muggles was sent to me. That’s when he also got worried and convinced his brothers to come and save me.

They pulled the bars from my window with their flying car and then George and Fred came into my room to pick the lock so they could get my school stuff from the cupboard downstairs, while I collected my stuff in my room. We almost made it out without Uncle Vernon waking up, but I had forgotten Hedwig and she let out a loud screech to remind me of her. That woke up uncle Vernon and he came into my room when I was passing Hedwig to Ron inside the car. I climbed the chest of drawers and tried to get into the car, but Uncle Vernon had grabbed me by the ankle. Ron, Fred and George took hold of my arms and pulled as hard as they could, pulling me out of Uncle Vernon’s grip. When I was in the car, they stepped on the gas and we flew to the Weasley’s home.

We arrived at their house when the sun was coming up on the horizon.  It looks like it had once been a large stone pigpen, but it has extra rooms added here and there. It is several stories high and so crooked it looks like it’s held up by magic. It has five chimneys and a lopsided sign is stuck in the ground near the entrance reading the Burrow. I think it’s wonderful. I’ve been staying here for the last couple of weeks, sleeping in Ron’s room. Almost everything in his room is orange, like his bedspread, the walls and even the ceiling. And there are posters everywhere of the Chudley Cannons Quidditch team. Oh, and a ghoul lives in the attic and you can hear him banging on the pipes and groaning at night.

Their mom was really upset with the twins and Ron when we got there, screaming she had been worried when their beds had been empty and the car was gone. She kept on shouting until her voice was hoarse. And then she turned on me. I was afraid she would start yelling at me but she just said she was pleased to see me and offered me breakfast.

The house is amazing. There is a clock in the kitchen that doesn’t show the time, but has words written on it like ‘time to make tea’ and ‘You’re late’. And there are Gnomes in the garden that I helped remove on my first day here. Also, the mirrors talk to you. And everyone thinks it’s normal that you can hear small explosions coming from Fred and George room all the time.

Ron’s brothers Fred and George are a lot of fun, and his father is also great. He is fascinated with muggle stuff and asked me what the purpose of a rubber duck is. Percy is still stuck up and complained about the fact that they were harbouring a Slytherin at their house. His mother told him to shut his mouth and be more polite to their houseguest, meaning me. Everyone else is very nice to me and it seems they all really like me.

Ron also has a younger sister, named Ginny. She seems to have a crush on me. Every time she sees me she turns red turns around and walks out of the room. Or she knocks things over whenever I enter a room. It’s kind of cute. Ron said she had been talking about me all summer. Fred is surprised she hasn’t asked for my autograph jet.

The first day there I helped Ron, Fred and George de-gnome the garden. It was really fun. We had to pick up the gnomes and spin them around in the air before you fly them over the hedge. Fred and George made it into a game to see who could fly them the farthest away. Gnomes look really funny by the way. They are small and leathery looking and have a head that looks like a potato.

It is really nice being here, and I’ve been writing with Hermione for the last two weeks, but there is one thing that is still upsetting me. I’ve written a letter to Draco, telling him I miss him and asking if he is okay, but I haven’t heard back from him. Ron doesn’t really get why that upsets me so much. What else had I expected from a stuck up Slytherin? I told Ron that I was also a Slytherin, but he said that I was different and that I was also half Gryffindor since I spend most of my time hanging out with Gryffindors.

I wrote to Hermione about the kiss he gave me on the train and that I really like him. She was really nice about it, saying she had kind of guest when I started hanging out with him more and more last year, preferring his company over hers. She also said I shouldn’t worry about him not writing to me, that maybe he is away with his family overseas or something and hasn’t gotten my letter. But I know she is also worried. It is not like Draco to not hold true to his word. When he promises something you can count on him to do it.

I haven’t told Ron or his brothers that I’m bent. They still joke about the fact that Ginny likes me so much and that she’s acting all shy around me since she normally very chatty. I feel kind of bad about not correcting them when they joke I could marry into their family one-day thanks to Ginny. And that it is not their sister that gives me butterflies, but that thinking of Draco makes me feel that way. I don’t know if they will understand or if they would start treating me differently if they know. And I like that they are all so nice to me right now.

Tomorrow we are going to Diagon Alley. Our school letters arrived today. I was a bit surprised that my letter had arrived here at the Burrow, but Mr Weasley said that it seemed that Dumbledore already knew I was here and that the man doesn’t miss a trick. I have to catch the train at King Cross on the first of September and I will need a lot of new school books, most of them written by Gilderoy Lockhart. Fred thinks we’ll have a witch as new Defence of the Dark Arts teacher because of this.

Hermione is also going to be in Diagon Alley tomorrow and I’m really looking forward to seeing her again. I’ve missed her. And I hope we will run into Draco, so I can ask him what is going on.

This afternoon I went with Ron, Fred and George up the hill to a small paddock and we went flying. Ron and I had to take turns on his broom. I told Ron I’m planning on buying my own broom tomorrow and we talked about the latest models. Ron dreamed of having a better broom, but the Weasleys don’t have a lot of money and they would already struggle with just getting the normal school supplies. I feel a bit bad about that, knowing I have plenty of money thanks to you two.

But it was amazing to fly again and Fred and George forbade me to try out for the Slytherin Quidditch team after I caught all the apples they threw at me with ease. They think I would be an amazing seeker with my reflexes and all. It reminded them of their brother Charlie, who was a seeker during his Hogwarts days. And it would be unfair to the other teams if I would give Slytherin the advantage of a talented seeker. I wish I could talk to Draco about this; he was talking about trying out for the Quidditch team this year, as a Chaser and I wonder what he would think if I joined as well.

I didn’t know you could miss someone as much as I miss Draco. Like this being in love is horrible. Please promise me it will get better once I see him again when we go back to school. I do really hope so. I still want him to be my boyfriend, even though I haven’t heard from him all summer. Is that stupid of me? He just makes me feel all fussy and warm inside when I think of him.

But I should go to sleep since we are going to Diagon Alley early tomorrow.

I love you both,

Harry James Potter

[soundofseventeen]

Moments (OT13)

Life is coming at me in every direction, but I’m leaving you with this. I guess it’s movies y’all watch with them and they realize how much they love you? I’m not sure. Happy Valentine’s Day. -Bee

Seungcheol: The Princess Bride; there’s something about this particular film that puts him in a romantic mood. He likes hearing you quote the sentences you know and sighing every time you hear the words “true love”. He likes that you don’t notice him staring at you because you’re too engrossed at everything, and he loves that when you sit between his legs, he can rest his chin on your shoulder and whisper along to the movie. His favorite part is when you ask if you can watch it again, and all he says is, “As your wish,” and kisses your cheek.

Jeonghan: Charlie St. Cloud; being someone who’s really close with (and protective of!) his family, this is a movie that would resonate with him. He takes the roles he has a lot more seriously than he lets on, so his reactions are appropriate, even going as far asking what you’d do if that was you after the movie was over. He holds you close, afraid you’d disappear while he’s on the phone with his sister, reminding her that their bond is unbreakable

Joshua: A Cinderella Story; a film that balances the realism and the sprinkle of happily ever after, this is one you can agree on because it’s a classic. He’d make an offhand comment or two about owning a retro diner with the roller skates uniform and snuggling close to you and pouting when you remark how much Carter reminds you of him, but in your real life, the nerd (and best friend!) got you instead of the jock. You adore enveloping him in your arms, rocking him against your arms slowly and playing with his hair until you can hear him sleeping

Soonyoung: The Kissing Booth; He doesn’t quite understand why you like bad boys or why Americans would go through the trouble of one person kissing many people. He has his head in hands and the entire time y’all are watching it together, he’s groaning. “It’s so problematic, Jagiya. Why do you like this?” “The future isn’t certain.” “Mine is. As long as you’re in it.” “Ours is, but not all of them.” You smile after rolling your eyes, reminding him that’s a movie and he is the perfect example of a bad boy...because he’s so bad at everything. When he pouts, you kiss him, because he is your type, not the fictional boy on the screen

Junhui: The Fault in Our Stars; although he refuses to watch it all the way to the end, he loves the whirlwind romance and the process of falling in love at a young age. He’s the type to play it over dinner and in the middle of your conversation of dirty socks or something, he gets the biggest grin on his face and recites Augustus’s famous, “I am in love with you…” speech, which of course shuts you up and has you looking at your food, avoiding contact until he gently lifts your chin with his pointer finger as he finishes, “...the only earth we’ll ever have and I am in love you.” He laughs softly when he sees how red you are, and stopping a few minutes after, because he insists they deserve that little bubble of happiness as long as they can have it because Death is a cruel Fate that shouldn’t rip away love like that.

Wonwoo: The Notebook; being the type that writes his love story day by day, it doesn’t surprise you that he’d choose this to watch with you whenever the opportunity arises. He likes having the blanket draped over you two while you lean against him, hands loosely interlaced and occasionally squeezing his when you feel emotional and even though you know the outcome of it, it makes you afraid of what’ll happen if you ever lost Wonwoo or the memories you made. He keeps his journal with him, shyly reading the latest entry of your newest adventure if you request it and writing more when you remind him of the details

Jihoon: Letters to Juliet; he isn’t one to ask for advice on his relationship, but he’s impressed how people all over the world go to Italy to ask for help. Even after you proved time and again how even realists deserve happiness, he remains skeptical, but you’re there to reassure him with a smile letters can cure anything. He is displeased at how far fetched the whole story seems, but you just let him rant while you’re curled at his side, pressing kisses to the corner of his jaw. “Would you consider me an idiot if I ever courted you while you were in a balcony?” “I think I’d die of happiness first.” “I was afraid of that.” The closest thing he’d ever come to that is serenading you in a closed arena while you were onstage and he was somewhere in the first row

Seokmin: Ella Enchanted; musicals and happily ever after is the key to Seokmin’s heart, which you learned right away. You’re more focused on his childlike wonder and his expressions, committing them to memory. It doesn’t matter if you’re watching it on your laptop in bed or on the TV in the living room, it’s the enchantment that you feel surrounding you when he’s holding your hand and staring at you lovingly when he breaks his gaze from the screen, and kissing you breathless because he believes fairytales are real because he’s living it at the moment

Mingyu: Corpse Bride; he’s a fan of Tim Burton and his movies, but this one holds a special place in his heart because you were the one who recited the vows to him while feeding him popcorn one night when he was feeling down. Now every time he watches it with you, all he envisions is slipping a ring on your finger, asking you to be his before you knock out of his reverie and he does is smile at you and pulls the blanket higher up on you so you won’t get cold and snuggles closer to you

Minghao: To All the Boys I Loved Before; he watches this movie with you to make you squirm because he won’t let you live down the fact that you wrote him a love letter instead of a letter of encouragement for him to read while he’s away. But it paid off because you get to hear him giggle in your ear when you’re leaning into him to get comfortable. He likes to play with your hair, your hand, anything to keep you focused on him instead of the movie and he inhales deeply whenever you mumble an “I love you,” only meant for you to hear and not having the heart to wake you up if you fall asleep

Seungkwan: A Walk to Remember; if there’s something he always wanted to with you, it was fulfill everything you have on your bucket list. At first, he used to put it off because there’d always be another time, but he watches it as a reminder that he won’t know if there’ll ever be a last time. He knew right off the bat he’d marry you and this set it in stone for him even though cries every time at the end. He likes hugging you from behind every time he remembers a scene or two

Hansol: Titanic; he skips the first few minutes and goes straight into the story, throwing his arm around you to keep you close the whole time. He’ll zone out at random times to brush the hair out of your face and smile gently. The intensity of his gaze is enough have you forget you’re even watching it to begin with, especially when he kisses you. Then he’ll pull away and refocus on the scene. He likes to pull you across his lap in an attempt to recreate the iconic scene and remembering that he won’t love you as much as he will in that moment: messy hair, comfy PJs and the feeling of being the luckiest guy in the world. “I’ll never let go,” he whispers in your ear before kissing your hand

Chan: Anastasia; a lowkey fan of history, he chose this one because of the story of how it all played out. You’ve always wondered why he liked it so much, what with the way you could hear him humming the songs into your hair and sighing at all the parts and when you asked why, he shrugged and said it reminded him of how you met and how you loved the person he is, rather than the person he portrays onstage and social media. “It’s not like you didn’t know who I was. It’s more like, you knew who I was but you still saw Chan and not Dino, and that’s really important to me.” He likes holding you close to him because it’s a bigger deal than he lets on