#i CANNOT and WILL NOT get over this movie. EVER

[bokutosbabe]

It Always Leads To You

( bllk boys as situationships )

a/n — girl whose never had a situationship writing about them? what could go wrong? (they progressively get longer lol)

content — some nsfw but not explicit, pining, GN! reader, some characters repeated, all characters are 18 or 18+

synopsis — what kind of situationship the bllk boys would be

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' and the heart i'm breaking is my own ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' but you're best friends! '

you'd rather spend money on a hotel than stay at home 24/7 for the next week. how could you walk into your house when you knew he'd be there, chatting with you family as if nothing had changed?

maybe you should've pretended you had to work.

that would have saved you the grief of having to see, who was supposed to be, your best friend. how could you face him when the last thing you two talked about was being a couple and that...not going as planned.

well, maybe that wasn't the last thing you two talked about with each other. however, does defiling your families bathroom really count as 'talking'? ( most awkward easter ever afterwards ) you didn't really think so.

whatever, he was a pro-soccer player now, he may not even be at home this christmas. you'd just have to put up with his family, who you'd always loved, and then you could go home and avoid the situation until the next big holiday.

but of course, when you stepped into your childhood home you realized that you'd never get that lucky. there he was, just as handsome as ever, sitting on your families couch.

in your eyes, he looked like he belonged with your family more than you, but you supposed he earned that. he came home every holiday, unlike you who continuously came up with different reasons to stay as far away as possible.

if you left now, maybe no one would know you'd even shown up-

" woah, y/n! it's you! " or...maybe not. " i haven't seen you in forever, what have you been up to? " the voice that plagued your every waking thought crashed its way into your ears.

your best friend ( could you even call him that anymore? were you still his best friend? ) got up from his spot on the couch to come wrap his arms around you in a hug that felt more like home than home did.

" i've missed you, ya know? " he whispered in your ear, hands caressing your back in what felt like much more than what a 'friends' hug would be.

just a week. you could survive and coexist with him for a week. your resolve to never sleep with him set in stone now.

you just wished your resolve wouldn't have crumbled only two days later while your family was downstairs watching christmas movies.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ REO MIKAGE, isagi yoichi, AIKU OLIVER, rensuke kunigami, TOBITO KARASU

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the ' you cannot date them '

you’re a good person... or at least, you want to believe that. But how can you when your best friend sits in front of you now, talking about their ex?

she’s raving about how much she misses him, how everything fell apart at the worst time, how she’s still holding onto the hope that maybe they can fix things.

you try to smile and nod, pretending that you’re not dying inside. how can you even look her in the eye when he’s blowing up your phone right now? when you know exactly how he feels about you?

“it’s just so messed up, right?” she laughs nervously, like this is all just a bad breakup, nothing that can’t be smoothed over. “i’m not even sure what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

she doesn’t know that you already did something. You already did the one thing that could ruin everything. the one thing that she told you you could never do.

your phone continuously buzzing while she's talking, hoping she wouldn't notice you reach for it to silence it while she takes a sip of her drink.

your phone vibrates again, and you try not to look at it. you’re not sure if you’re worried that she’ll see, or that you’ll see what he’s saying. you’re scared of both.

him <3 ; are we still on for tonight? can’t wait to see you.

that familiar ache forms in your chest, and you can feel the betrayal to your friend, the confusion about your own feelings, but worse—there’s nothing you can do about it. you keep smiling, even though it feels like your heart’s sinking with every word your friend says.

" god, if you don't want to listen to me, just say so. " your friend says coldly. " i would have turned off my phone if it was you crying right now. "

" sorry, it's just my mom...talking about some new present she wants to get my brother. " you apologized. "oh, okay. is your brother a cutie?" you didn't even have a brother, showed how much she knew about you.

“whatever, what should i do?" your friend asks, her eyes bright with hope (or maybe delusion). "do you think I should text him? do you think we could still fix things?”

you want so badly to tell her the truth.

you want to be honest, to say what she needs to hear so that she doesn’t get her hopes up.

you want to tell her that he is already texting you, that maybe you are the reason he won’t talk to her.

but instead, you bite your lip and offer a shrug. "i don't know, honestly. maybe he needs time to figure out what he wants too."

"he doesn't need time. he needs me." she mused, staring at you like your answer was just the stupidest thing she'd heard all day. "no wonder you've never dated anyone, who'd like a ditz like you?"

The whole time, your phone is buzzing, buzzing, buzzing, like a constant reminder of your lie.

you; see you tonight :)

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ OTOYA EITA, ikki niko, RANZE KURONA, reo mikage, RYUSEI SHIDO

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧the... ' you'll never be first '

he's leaving soon, and you feel like you're dying.

you’d known for a long time that ‘casually’ seeing a pro soccer player would only lead to being left alone, especially someone like him—someone whose work always came first, and whose heart was as unreachable as the trophies he collected.

he’d said it more times than you could count: “love doesn’t come before soccer. It never will.” and you’d laughed, maybe even agreed at some point, understanding it was just the way things were.

so why does it feel like you’re drowning now, with him leaving just around the corner.

it doesn’t make sense. you’d known the deal from the start.

still, here you are—sitting in his bed, in the quiet of his room, the familiar hum of the city outside reminding you of how little time you really have left with him.

his suitcase is by the door, already half-packed, his jersey draped over the chair where he’d left it, as if he couldn't get out of here fast enough.

you’re almost sick to your stomach at the thought of him walking out that door in just a few days, never looking back.

you’ve spent enough time with him to know that when he leaves, he doesn’t look back. he doesn't look back at stadiums once he walks out, and he wouldn't look back at you either.

"it’s only a few months," he’d said, trying to make you feel better when the topic of him leaving first got brought up. “i’ll be back before you know it.”

but that’s not the point.

it’s never been the point.

you know he’ll be busy with games, traveling, sponsors,...women, all the things that make him too far to reach.

and yet, here you are, sitting in his bed, heart pounding, overwhelmed with the thought of it all ending. you thought you could handle this.

you thought you could be just another notch in his belt. but the truth is, you’ve been fooling yourself. you care too much. you’ve fallen for him, hard, and the worst part is—he doesn’t even realize it.

or maybe he does. maybe he’s known all along, and you were too scared to admit it.

the sound of his voice pulls you from your thoughts.

"hey, you okay?"

you glance over at him, watching him fiddle with his phone, one hand propped up on the headboard. his eyes meet yours, something in them that almost makes you believe he could stay. maybe, you're enough of a reason for him to stay where he is now.

but he won’t. you know that. his life is bigger than you. bigger than this city, this bed, and every memory you’ve shared together.

you nod, forcing a smile, trying to keep the strange bitterness from slipping into your voice.

"yeah, just thinking."

"don’t think too much." his lips curl up into that calming grin that’s made you feel better on several occasions. how could something that used to calm you make you feel like your heart was in your throat? “you’ll drive yourself crazy.”

it’s easy for him to say that. he’s used to moving on. he’s used to leaving. you? you're used to him being here.

his fingers tap absently against the screen of his phone. you can see the notifications lighting up—his agent, a few teammates, probably his parents, all reminding you of the inevitable: he’s leaving soon.

you want to scream. you want to ask him why he doesn’t care. why it’s so easy for him to slip away from everyone who loves him.

but instead, you pull your knees to your chest and keep your eyes fixed on him, as if the longer you look, you could magically gain telepathy to make him want to stay with you.

"how’s your flight looking?" you ask, hoping his answer would be that he cancelled it.

"all set."

and you can't breathe.

the casualness in his voice is what stings the most. the way he talks about leaving as if it’s just another day at the office, another game to be played.

he doesn’t get how you feel. maybe he can’t. maybe he’s just too busy not feeling anything.

The silence is deafening.

"do you... do you ever wish you could just stay?"

It’s a question you didn’t mean to ask, but it escapes before you can stop it.

You wish you could take it back the second it leaves your lips.

he looks up at you, and for the briefest moment, his eyes soften. for one second, he looks like he is completely and utterly yours.

he sets his phone down, sliding it onto the bedside table, then turns his full attention to you.

"i told you, didn’t i? love doesn’t come before soccer."

The words hit you like a train, but it’s not the truth that hurts—it’s the way he says it, like it’s not up for debate. as if it’s always been this way, and it always will be.

why can't he just try? just try to come home every so often...to you.

you feel like a fool. as if you've put your heart on display for him just to not even glance your way.

you know where you stand, even if it’s tearing you apart.

he doesn’t lie to you, doesn’t promise you things he can’t give, and maybe that's why you fell for him in the first place—he was the first person who didn’t play games with you.

"i’m gonna miss you," you say quietly, knowing that admitting it aloud makes it even worse.

his eyes flicker with something, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. he shifts, pulling his knees up to match yours, as if to say he’s close, but still so far. he rests his head back against the headboard.

and for a moment, you almost forget he’s leaving. you forget about the suitcase by the door. you forget about the plane ticket he has. you forget that in just a few days he wont be yours anymore.

"i’ll miss you too," he says softly.

but that’s it. that’s all he says. it’s not a promise, not a declaration. just another passing remark to fill the silence.

he doesn't mean it. it's more of a kindness thing for him to say it back.

you can feel the weight of everything unsaid.

you realize—he doesn’t know how much you care. He can’t understand you.

he’s never been asked to stay.

you’re not even sure you’d want him to. you can’t ask him to change his life for you. and you couldn't keep up with the lifestyle he lives.

the idea of him walking away—of losing him to something bigger, to something you’ll never be able to keep—feels like it will break you.

so you just lie down on his bed, for the last time, you tell yourself.

'after tonight, he'll be free of me'

after tonight, you'd walk out that door and not look back.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ITOSHI RIN, nagi seishiro, SAE ITOSHI, isagi yoichi, RENSUKE KUNIGAMI

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' to leave the warmest bed i've ever known ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

[ + your faves ! ]

again, i've never experienced this, so i hope the research i've done (looking up different types of situationships) has done it justice!

likes, comments, and reblogs appreciated!

[princessfbi]

Do you still write for buddie or are you exclusively a bucktommy writer?

I write, as I always have, whatever brings me joy.

I'm going to say something and this is not directed at you Nonnie. It's just something I've needed to get off my chest and you've unfortunately opened the door. This is something that's been happening since the moment I "deviated" from what other people have been demanding.

Fanfic is not my job. Creating content is not my job. Crafting your escapism is not my responsibility.

I write for me. I write what I want to write and when I want to write it. I am not a machine. I am not getting paid. I am not here serve to the masses. The sheer entitlement some people have had these last few months has been exhausting. When we, the authors, see you talk about how we've "forsaken" you or you talk about how you can't understand what it is we see in something you personally don't want to read? The answer is simple: it's because we like it. It's because it brings us joy. It's because it's not fucking about you.

My fanfic is about me.

Let's look at the timeline of my works:

Most recent going down.

Bucktommy

Tumblr prompts which include Bucktommy, Buddietommy, and Buddie

Buddie

Buddietommy

Bucktommy

Buddie

Bucktommy

All of that has been written post 7x04.

Do you know how many words I have written for Buddie?

1,558,689 Words.

Over a million words have been dedicated to Buddie.

So excuse me for doing something else that may also bring me joy. Excuse me for having the audacity to not cater to your every whims and pleasure. Fanfics are a form of escapism. I get it. But this is not my job. This is not a Starbucks. I do not owe you anything and to imply otherwise just shows how much you truly do not value it. Half of you can't even be bothered to leave a comment. You spit in the face of people's joy and you have been cruel, mean spirited, and unkind. All of you.

I am a person with wants and needs including a moment of goddamn peace in this shit show of a world we find ourselves in. I am entitled to curating and creating my own form of joy. I am a person. I should not have to beg you to see that. And the fact that these last few months people cannot and will not acknowledge that makes me not want to write for Buddie ever again.

I'm going to because that is my joy. I am making the choice to share it with the world. But it will be on my terms. Because what I write is about me. It is for me.

So if that means I write for Bucktommy or Buddie or some entirely different show or movie that catches my attention then it will be because I have decided I want to do it. Not anyone else.

[ganondoodle]

i have seen people talk about how hard it is to draw anything if you have aphantasia (which is good to talk about and true and valid and also intersting to read and this post isnt to devalue that, two things can coexist etc etc)

i personally struggle with the opposite; i have incredible imagination, i'd say it's my best and only "inate talent", (this is not a brag ..) all stories i think about are movies, i can stop them, change camera angle and poses, rotate ever object however i want, place lighting sound and voices, even styles, i switch from ghibli to botw to fortiches style, even into the style of a comic i recently read which wasnt even animated, the only thing that only works half the time is music-

and that all might sound fantastic, but its a mess, it goes too fast and too quickly, things never play out one way, theres interruption, involuntarily sudden changes to other subjects, i feel like struggling to keep an angry horse on one path, it makes me waste HOURS each day just reversing and redoing a scene like im a movie director wizard in my head, theres no ONE finished version, it changes everytime yet i go back over and over again to make it better, i forget most of it within a few hours anyway; even IRL when someone tells me about a memory and they are not sure if i was with them during it once they start to explain trying to make me remember it instead i will imagine it, in the end i wont be sure if i actually remembered or if i just imagined it too real, it scares me how much i forget and cant remember only for my mind to make shit up, makign me doubt my own memory (its weird how it works, i have horrible geographical memory, when i drive somwhere i have known my entire life i need to remember the path to it by imagining driving it, i remember significant things but not the path to them or how they connect or in what order, i have to go through it in my head every single time)

by far the worst part though is that extreme disconnect between whats in my mind and what i can do, just because i can imagine things like that doesnt mean i can draw it (god i WISH), nothing i have ever drawn is how it was in my head, the few things you get to see are the ones i won the fight against myself with to keep going and say 'good enough' at some point the speed is a problem too, the things playing in my head, sometimes even multiple at the same time, play like, again, a movie, whatever im trying to draw is rarely ONE thing, its a whole scene that plays over and over, i want to draw it all but it wont work bc my mind is too fast and i am too slow, it makes me try to skip ahead and get things done as fast as possible, it NEVER works (also too much, theres so many things in my head, i have almost the entirety of the totk rewrite in my head already, novels worth of lore and story for my other projects, its overwhelming how much is in there that i cannot get out and on paper)

its why comics take me so long to make, why detailed paintings are so rare, its the rare times i can force myself to try and tune out my mind and just work on what is in front of me, usually works for a few hours .. if i can manage to reach that sort of focus at all, its why basic sketches of characters are so much easier to do bc i dont have to fight as hard to just draw a character doing nothing- as soon as i want to make it a sketch page of things and scenes the movies are back and are there to haunt me until i cry and give up after hours of trying to keep up with my mind that i will never be able to catch up to (and this is only about drawing .. )

i know skill and speed increase over time, but i wont ever get to where my mind is, its always ahead and trying to skip and jump towards it only makes me stumble and fall flat on my face- maybe its ADHD, maybe its the autism, maybe its the depression, maybe its just me, maybe its just all of that

what im trying to say is, head full, too much thought, too fast, never able to translate it into viewable things in the way and speed as my head works, i explode

[grif-hawaiian-rolls]

Movie night is a vital part of the Red Team experience

plus an honorary Doc to make the snack runs

[sallymew4]

EVERYONE STOP WHAT YOURE DOING RIGHT FUCKING NOW

EVERYBODY SHUT UP IMMEDIATELY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[mechieonu]

FROM THE START self-love and acceptance has been one of the major themes of the series and if ANYONE could benefit from that tigress is RIGHT THERE

[get-back-homeward]

Davidwache Police Station | Painting by Klaus Voormann Prior to being deported, Paul McCartney spends a night in the Davidwache police station.

In the meantime, the final four could start playing [at the Top Ten club] now, and move themselves into the bunk-bed accommodation at the top of the building.c Tony Sheridan was already here, possibly others too, and the Beatles were welcome to shoehorn themselves in. It was neither the Ritz nor the pits. John was the first to move. Then Paul and Pete went back to the Bambi to grab their gear.

The place was in near darkness, as usual. They had to strike a match to see their way about … and then they decided to leave Koschmider a little gift. Pete had a few “spunk bags,” and he and Paul had the idea to hang them on nails in the wall in the long concrete passageway and set light to them. “The place was dank and dark,” says Pete. “They spluttered, they stank, and OK, maybe they singed a tiny bit of tapestry on the wall. It caused nothing but a little smoke and a few scorch marks and then they went out.”41 It was the ultimate fuck you, Bruno, or so they thought.

They got to play one night in the Top Ten, and it seems to have been a good one, pulling business away from the Kaiserkeller, but it was just this one night. Having been shafted once by Eckhorn, when he’d prized away the Jets and Tony Sheridan from the Kaiserkeller, Koschmider wasn’t going to sit back and let it happen again. He might also have guessed the Beatles would make some grand gesture for his “benefit”—they could even have hinted of it—because an inspection was made of the Bambi’s rooms very quickly. When the stinkende qualmende Piedeltüten were found, he decided to form the view it was an attempt to burn down his cinema, and informed the police.

The chronology of events over the next twenty-four hours is rife with confusion and contradiction, but may have gone something like this. Paul was picked up by the police while walking along the Reeperbahn, taken by car to the Davidwache police station (two hundred meters from the Top Ten) and locked in a cell. Pete and John were also arrested. Koschmider didn’t know which of them was responsible for the “attempted arson,” so the Polizei rounded them all up. As Stuart wrote in a letter back to Liverpool a few days later:

I am living in the lap of luxury and contentment. Better than the cell I spent a night in last week. I was innocent this time though accused of arson—that is, setting fire to the Kino (cinema) where we sleep. I arrive at the club and am informed that the whole of Hamburg Police are looking for me. The rest of the band are already locked up, so smiling and very brave on the arm of Astrid, I proceed to give myself up. At this time I’m not aware of the charge. All my belongings, including spectacles, are taken away and I’m led to a cell where without food or drink I sat for six hours on a very wooden bench, the door shut very tight. I fall asleep at two in the morning. I signed a confession written in Deutsch that I knew nothing about a fire, and they let me go.42

John was also allowed to go. It was now clear who’d done the dirty deed, and for them the ordeal continued; Paul would always remember the little one-way peephole in the door of their detention room, through which he sensed they were watched. It seems he and Pete were then allowed to leave, but a few hours later—early the following morning—they were dragged out of their Top Ten bunk beds and interviewed a second time. Pete suggests they were taken to Hamburg’s main prison at Fühlsbuttel, Paul remembers it being “the Rathaus … it doesn’t mean rat house, it just felt like one.” They were interviewed by an official of the Bundeskriminalamt (Federal CID), one Herr Gerkins, and it was definitely inadvisable to snigger. Instead, they requested permission to contact the British Embassy, like people did in the films, and were refused; then they were taken for a car ride. “We tried our best to persuade him it was nothing,” Paul says, “and he said, ‘OK fine, well you go with these men.’ And that was the last we knew of it. We just headed out with these couple of coppers. And we were getting a bit ‘Oh dear, this could be the concentration camps’—you never know. It hadn’t been that long [since the war].”43

Criminal charges were not pressed, but Koschmider, inevitably, had the last laugh. It wasn’t a camp to which Paul and Pete were being taken, but the airport—and in handcuffs, according to Stuart. They were being deported, and banned from reentering Germany unless they lodged an appeal within a month. Auf Wiedersehen, Piedels! Handed their passports at the gate, they were put on the London plane, set to fly for the first time in their lives. It then got even tastier for Koschmider because Eckhorn was billed for at least part of the cost of the plane tickets. Bruno must have been rubbing his hands with joy.

—Tune In, Ch. 17 (Oct 1–Dec 31, 1960)

Sources: 41 Author interview, March 7, 1985. Pete says (Beatle!, p72) there were four rubbers and always speaks of them in plural, Paul speaks of one. 42 December 12, 1960, sent to Ken Horton. This letter provides the only suggestion that John was arrested in the roundup; he’s not mentioned in other accounts. 43 Interview by Paul Gambaccini, Rolling Stone, June 12, 1979. Rathaus means “city hall.” Instead of the main prison at Fühlsbuttel, it’s more likely Paul and Pete were taken to the remand prison near St. Pauli called Untersuchungsgefängnis (easier done than said).

[deanofsam]

just saw megalopolis and all i have to say: shia labeouf oscar when

[theimpossiblescheme]

Say what you will about the Cyrano movie (and one day I'll be able to in a halfway articulate manner), but I am still mildly obsessed with "Every Letter", and I think about this ending couplet all the time...

Your letters are drawings on me from above I know who you are and I know you are loved

Just... the idea of Cyrano and Christian receiving a letter in return from Roxanne and feeling their breath catch both with ecstasy and with bitter regret.

I know who you are...

But she can't. But she mustn't. But it would break her heart--she would never trust them again. But it wouldn't be fair to Christian. But Cyrano could never show his face again. But they already feel themselves burn under her gaze, and to meet it honestly without the armor of a soldier, of these letters, would scorch them until nothing remains. But the only true honor is to hide, even if they know it's really the coward's way out. But the only safety (if they were being brutally honest with themselves) is to hide.

... and I know you are loved.

But God, they wish they didn't have to.

[steviescrystals]

i seriously need to get a new job and start making money again asap bc i cannot keep living at home much longer it’s driving me insane

(wrote an entire essay in the tags without meaning to oops)

[mummer]

literally what do you MEAN the coyote got run over offscreen and the roadrunner is alone and left unchased!!!!!!!!!!

[lorephobic]

“Lovely. Smells good. It smells like Jacob. Weirdly. Nah, it smells good.” Barry on the red carpet last night. My love/hate relationship with the interviewers who keep asking him these type of questions is so complex like we get it and you need to stop right this second bur also PLEASE KEEP GOING 😩🙏

was literally talking with my work bestie today about how much i love hearing barry talk about jacob but if it’s a red carpet interview and u get the chance to ask him any one question in the world and u decide to make that moment about jacob??? sorry but u deserve to be shot.

ask jacob about jacob. this is barrys moment and barrys night. if ur not going to ask him an interesting question about HIM then go bother literally any other celebrity.

also if ur going to ask him about jacob at least be serious. this bathwater candle shit “describe jacob in three words” “what was it like when u first met him”, its all SO TIRED!!!!! NOBODY IS INVESTED IN THEIR LOVE STORY MORE THAN ME!!!!! but i would not be caught DEAD asking barry keoghan what the jacob bath water candles, that he DID NOT BUY BECAUSE HE IS NORMAL, SMELL LIKE!!!! WHEN WILL U PEOPLE LEARN WHAT A BIT IS.

[reflectionsofgalaxies]

having a normal one over here

[cuteniaarts]

Fanny, my sweet, beautiful girl

17.11.2012 – 14.04.2019

[benjaycaptain]

I feel like I’m going insane lmaooo

Because I don’t hate the movie, it gives me “greater insight” to see… the actual plot of the movie?? What kind of logic is that?? Just because you don’t like it doesn’t mean it’s dogshit? Like yeah it isn’t without criticism, but really now.

“Everyone was content [until she learns *her* family’s wishes won’t be granted]” like. Hello? What part of her saying “you make them forget” did not land??? Of course they were content when they were brainwashed and fed lies (the repeated “give without regret” line is actually sinister!). And while yes it started with her grandpa, she was horrified when she realizes, and the king confirms, that most of the kingdom’s wis/hes will just be kept there, while the people — who have been *changed* because they gave up the best part of them without truly realizing what that meant — continue living in a bubble of the king’s own making

Like I really do feel like people didn’t actually watch the movie or, if they did, did so with one eye open just so they can continue being angry at it for whatever reason

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

I was falling asleep because it's 4:30 in the morning but then a friend that I have a mild crush on texted me and asked what horror movies corresponds to which areas at camp, and clearly Climbing Wall is Vertigo, Aquatics is Jaws and Ecology-Conservation is The Birds, (these were her assignments) but she wanted to know whether Blair Witch fit Scoutcraft (basic scouting skills) or Handicraft (arts and crafts) more, and I said Handicraft because of the figurine things, then she asked what Scoutcraft would be, and full disclosure, I like horror movies but I don't watch a lot of them. I'm picky. Because I don't like gore or zombies and I have anxiety so it's difficult. Okay. So I literally Googled "outdoor horror movies" and tried to find one that I recognized, and thankfully Midsommar was on that list and I've seen and enjoyed Midsommar, so that's what I said. The only other horror movies I can remember seeing are Cabin in the Woods (masterpiece but doesn't fit) and one I can't remember the name of but it's about a video game and has Frankie Muniz and the guy that played Mary Lightly in Psych. And tbh, most of my horror movies knowledge comes from parody episodes of Psych. Especially the Hitchcock episode. I only knew Vertigo because of Psych. This post was a whole lot of inconsequential nonsense, but I get a pass because it's 4:30am and I'm talking to a cool girl.