#literally one of my favorite parts of this movie was watching those two work together

[emma-d-klutz]

I tell you Batgordan never even entered my head until the RPattz movie. did you see those two? they were BUDDIES. They were buddies, goddamnit. They had each other’s backs every minute of that thing. They never doubted the other once. They were FRIENDS. They were PARTNERS. When they did something stupid, they did it TOGETHER AS A TEAM. Batman was a whole freak showing up to crimes in a masked, armored costume with a cape, but Jim was the freak who let such a guy onto closed crime scenes and insisted he was good, and my god, I should rewatch it this week

[hoseoksluna]

STEAM | myg ft. jjk

pairing: boyfriend!yoongi x oc (feat. jungkook)

genre: smut

word count: 9.2k

summary: one video call awakens your neediness for two cocks.

playlist: steam / pinterest board: steam

warnings: female masturbation, mentions of shower sex, praise kink, toying with the idea of polyamory, a hint of voyeurism, oc rly goes through it and faces mental battles, fear, intoxication, punishment, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, choking, cum eating, manhandling, degradation, provocation, mutual masturbation, rough & raw sex, brief oral sex (f. receiving), pet names

note: IT'S FINALLY HEREEEEEE SKFDSFLSFJ, okay so—let me introduce to you a new yoongi series featuring JUNGKOOK oh my god. i am SO EXCITED about this and i wanna apologize for my insane ideas in advance... i'm so sorry, guys. nevertheless, i hope you like this as much as i do, i literally went mad writing this and i smoked so many cigarettes i lost count. please, let me kNOW UR FAVORITE PARTS CUZ I HAVE SO MANY AND I WANNA TALK ABOUT THEM. oh fuck, guys. ENJOY READING SDKFJSD. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

side note: btw, the playlist i made is literally perfect and depicts the fic wonderfully. you can listen while you read! <3

The scent of mangoes finds its way up your nostrils, heating your senses through its balmy touch as you rub the body butter over the damp skin of your arms. Fingers graze along your décolletage, tucking in the fragrance for your boyfriend to breathe in when he comes home. He’s out for the night—said something about his friend finishing his military service, so the whole group was going out to celebrate it. Yoongi was so frantic in his excitement, hastily putting on the first outfit that sparked his eye. Didn’t even touch his hair, only sprayed a mist of his sandalwood and tangerine-tinged perfume. Grabbed his phone, keys, wallet. Barely kissed you goodbye before he fled out of the door.

He didn’t even ask you if you wanted to come along.

You didn’t mind, though—you’re only in the early stages of your relationship. It hasn’t even been half a year since you’ve started dating. And you figure he deserves a night out with his closest friends because you’ve been attached to the hip since the beginning. Funnily enough, you no longer live at your own place. Somehow, you’ve settled in Yoongi’s apartment, never setting foot outside, save for your walks, grocery shopping, the few dates with your friends and work. There wasn’t any conversation about it; you just mostly spend your free time with your boyfriend.

And all you do is fuck, eat and watch movies.

The last time Yoongi took you out was during the first two months you’d been getting to know him. The realization of how long it’s been sends a trail of chills down your arms and you rub it away.

But because you’ve been spending all your time together, you’re glad to have a moment to yourself—glad to be able to take a long hot shower, to do your hair and skincare. Perhaps, you’ll even have time to do your nails and that energizes you, propels you to spread the body butter further down the rest of your body. It is your rose garden, these night times reserved for your hot showers. The place you go to—your hideaway from the pressure and nerves of life that the steam loosens and soothes, especially when you let your sultry playlist echo through the mightiness of Yoongi’s bathroom, your favorite singer’s voice reaching your veins like the growing stems of those roses; pretty, pink and so feminine. Yes, Yoongi’s therapy sessions and thick length might have been a great help, the best in fact, but there’s something about letting yourself be burned off of all that’s been weighing you down and watching it trickle down the drain that is just so satisfying.

It was all that you were once used to. That is, until you met Yoongi.

Showers with him are something else.

Something you never thought you could ever have the blessing to encounter. Showers with Yoongi are intense, so out of pocket that you find yourself thinking about them fondly whenever you’re alone with your thoughts. There, beneath the downpour of the warm water, he lets you see the other side of his ever unyielding stern façade. While holding you, he would make you laugh, then make you moan and break that sound with each hard plunge of his cock. Hair slicked back, smirk adorning that delicious wet mouth, causing him to look like a Mafioso bent on absolutely ruining you. He would tell you the most insane story he heard from his friend, then talk you through the build-up of your orgasm while continuing to the point of that story—seamlessly waving through, never losing tempo. “Then, he went up to his hyung to ask him about what he did—yes, just like that, honey, take it. I know you’re almost there, just listen.” You would come all over his cock, sprinkling him with your essence, right there at the end of his story and like a hungry man, he’d get on his knees and eat you up, muttering how good you are and how well you did along with each swipe of his tongue. Your lungs would heave due to the overstimulation, your legs would tremble, unable to stand and he’d gather you into his arms, fold you like paper into the crooks of his body and let his thick duvet drape over you. He’d fall asleep first, breathing in the scent of your shampoo, snoring softly behind you while spooning you, never letting go of his deathly grip around you. And while you would breathe in the haze of lilac sprayed on his pillows, you’d become aware of the drowsy rhythm of his heartbeat, the lift and fall of his chest against your back, the snug heat of his body and it would lull you to sleep.

That has become your new version of hot long showers.

And if it isn’t this, then it’s Yoongi letting you quickly wash yourself before he’d steal you away, dragging you into this bed, only to carry you back there an hour later.

You speculate he has a serious, adorable case of attachment issues.

That is why you enjoy your exceptional alone shower all the more—you haven’t had it in so long. Only this time, it’s quite different.

You feel him everywhere.

You feel him in the drift of your hand down your tummy because you recollect the way he likes to pepper kisses there on his way to eat you out. You feel him when you round your palms across your backside because you know he particularly likes to leave traces of saliva when he presses open-mouthed kisses there. His love for you circulates in your bloodstream, mingling with the little love you have for yourself, making it bigger, turning it into a turbulent rush of liquid. You sense it tapping beneath your skin, asking for more of your body just like Yoongi does, always begging, begging for more—for more skin to kiss and lick, for more sensitive parts of you to find and nibble on.

Your hands sense the ghost of him even when your fingers slip past your mound and realize that the film of your memories dampened your cunt. You hear the words of praise he’d utter into your ear at the discovery and you sigh at your tender touch. 

That’s a good girl. Messy for me. 

The rotund case of your body butter remains opened, forgotten. You suddenly have better things to do—like give your body the self-care, the self-love it deserves.

It’s a part of the solo girl's night.

A mewl comes out of your mouth at the first round of circles on your clit. Furrowing your brows at the pleasure, you prop your free hand on the edge of the bathroom counter, riding the pads of your fingers. And then, just like Yoongi taught you, you take your digits away, edging yourself, taking them elsewhere. You cry out at the contact of your wet fingertips on your stiff nipple and you pinch the nub, a spasm of delight coursing through your sensitiveness.

You imagine Yoongi standing behind you. Not touching you, merely guiding you, telling you when to stop, when to pick up the pace—when to fill your hole. Watching you in the mirror, hands in his pockets, having a perfect view of your slick-caked folds, of your clit swollen and asking for his tongue. Determined to make you lose your mind by teasing you, letting you only slap your pussy once you’re close. Your essence drips out of you at that thought, making a mess on the floor and you plug it in with your finger, fucking yourself steadily, inflamed by how slippery your heat is, how easy it is to slip the digit inside. Hot flashes close over your body, pearls of perspiration kissing the crook of your neck. You fuck yourself faster and—

A sudden ring of your phone jolts you. And the picture of your boyfriend, half dressed, with the early morning sunlight leaking over the scars and tattoo on his shoulder, crammed inside your screen, greets you.

You pant hard, your finger still inside of you. Delirious.

He must be on his way home. You don’t even know what time it is. 

Leaning forward, you hide your breasts behind your forearm and you swipe your finger to accept his video call.

Blurry Yoongi. The night sky, starlit and alive, behind him. A shoal of silhouettes, some lanky and some buff, all short-haired and all as woozy-lidded as you. The picture smooths into a crystal clear view and there you see your boyfriend, the nocturnal breeze brushing his ebony hair back. Not just him, however, but another male craning his neck to regard you fully. 

His eyes flicking from your neck to the smallest of your exposed décolletage, a smirk blossoming on his face like your imaginary roses. 

Yoongi slaps his phone face down. You withdraw your finger from your heat, a cacophony of giggles, whiny cries and the exclamations of his name emitting out of your mouth. 

He is not, in fact, on his way home. 

It is a warning, his low and strict call of your name back and, heeding it, you take your phone into your hands, so he’s only able to see your deeply flushed face. Device back in his hand, he’s not looking at you at all. As a matter of fact, he’s shooting daggers fueled with deadly nightshade at his friend, grumbling something that you can’t quite make out amidst the chaos and bustle of the outing. The shoal of the rest of his friends and strangers disappear out of the perspective, as if threatened by the cold energy. 

You wish you knew what he’s saying to him. Even your pussy aches to hear it. The principle of him scolding his friend for looking at you at your most private moment scorches you and you’re red, flattered and majestically horny. 

Yoongi turns his head to see if you’re well-behaved and you beam at him, the pulse on your clit intensifying, forcing you to say, “come home, Yoongi.” 

He chuckles, aware of the reason behind your words, pretends he isn’t. “What were you doing, baby?” 

The growth of your grin doesn’t falter. You show him the sheen of your wet finger in the ivory bathroom light, the glint, the stickiness as you push your index finger to your middle and pull away, your arousal on full, filthy display. 

He curses under his breath. Doesn’t give a fuck that his friend sits beside him and adjusts in his seat. Bites his lip briefly. “Stick it in your mouth for me.” 

Doesn’t say the words that so very often follow after in that sentence. Taste yourself. 

Why he doesn’t step aside to take this video call eludes you, but something about you being watched by two pairs of eyes excites you. Enough for you to do as he says. Perhaps it’s due to the fact you don’t know the male sitting beside him and Yoongi is letting him keep his sight glued to the screen. 

Two sharp inhales of breath. Not one of yours. Yoongi readies his hook to feignedly lash out at his friend and you press your thighs together to alleviate yourself of the unbearable feeling between your legs. Confidence, a bad, bad version of confidence suffuses you whole, turning you into a person gone mad by lust. You swirl your tongue around your digit, the tanginess of your taste causing your eyes to narrow, the principle of driving not just one, but two men mad just the same intoxicates you, as if you were there among them, drinking. 

A pair of round eyes peek at the corner of the screen. Soft, naive, so terribly innocent. A dash of sobriety washes over you, owed to those brownish effervescent orbs, a sprinkle shame pooling low in your core. A reality check. You sense some kind of stability of that reality beneath those eyelashes of his, the stability that whispers—is this the right thing to do? 

It’s not rough, it’s not stern, it’s not Yoongi coded—it’s anything but. Gentleness is what you detect, free of any prejudice. 

You sigh. Millions of thoughts about how you could toy with them pass through your mind, but you decide against them, the stability a pillar that blends into your spine, helping it unbend. You can’t do this; you can’t do this to Yoongi and you need to keep your dignity intact in some way, despite the fact that every fiber of your body compels you to do the opposite. You distract yourself by screwing the lid of your body butter back on. 

“Good girl,” Yoongi coos, causing you to whisk your eyes to the screen in perhaps disbelief, shame or your still pending arousal—you’re not sure. How can you be a good girl when you let another man see something so lewd? How can your boyfriend validate something like that? “One more beer and I’ll be home. Wait for me on the bed. As you are.” 

Naked. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks, to the surface of every part of your skin, dragging away small ounces of shame. You curse, mentally, running a hand down your face. Yoongi downs his drink without taking his gaze off of you, watching your reaction, adds once he swallows, “and don’t touch yourself.” 

And with that, he hangs up. 

The harsh comprehension of what the fuck just happened envelops you in a confining embrace, the precipitately increasing weight of shame now a burden on your shoulders that you just can’t shake off, even when you slink your arms through sleeves of your silky robe and welcome in the summer breeze coming to caress your face on the balcony—even when you burst your lighter to a flame and light up your cigarette, inhaling the smoke that you hoped would rid you of its such uncomfortable hold around you. 

You licked your cum clean under the gape of a guy you don’t know in front of your boyfriend. 

His friend heard the order. Don’t touch yourself. Yoongi didn’t whisper it. Didn’t camouflage his words in any way. Uttered them straight and bare, allowing his friend to hear them, despite the fact he almost fought him then and there for sneaking one glance at your moderately naked form. 

Question marks hover in your mind and the pulse on your clit cries, seemingly knowing the answer. 

Did Yoongi like it as much as you did, the aspect of having an audience? 

The wetness in your heat dribbles out, staining your thighs. You squeeze them together, the drag of your cigarette hard and long, expecting to feel your nerves burn off. You gain no such thing—no relief, no lifting of the burden, just constricting tangles in your tummy, zippy spasms of butterflies going mad, mad, mad. 

Perhaps Yoongi didn’t like it at first until he perceived the auspicious debauched look on your face. Saw the way you didn’t hesitate to oblige him when he told you to stick your finger in your mouth. And perhaps the fact that you didn’t express any signal of discomfort was the key to unfastening the leash on his possessiveness over you. 

What have you done? What have you so selfishly and disgustingly done? 

You hang your head in your hands, the white smoke intertwining with the burden on your shoulders and pressing down harder on you. 

That’s why he let his friend hear the command. Don’t touch yourself. He saw the way you indulged in it, and that awakened his liking for it.

Yoongi lied when he said he’d have one more beer. 

By the time you hear the thunder of his voice, all the roses in your garden have wilted, leaving faded, withered petals in its wake—leaving a path of your internal battle all around the apartment for Yoongi to follow. You’ve paced, your bare feet stepping on them. Tried to untangle yourself from the incarceration of your mind by chain-smoking, but to no avail. The only change that took place in your body was the decline of your shame, for you couldn’t help but imagine what could have happened, had you let free rein to your desire—had those round eyes never looked at you with such purity. You figured there wasn’t anything bad about letting your imagination be colored like that, and so you sat on your boyfriend’s couch, cigarette switched to a coconut-flavored vape, and dreamed.

You dreamed about those two men being of service to you, right here on the same couch, where they would lay you down and make you squirt over and over again, betting between each other who could make you come the fastest, counting down your orgasms until the number was a mere blur to you. 

The throb on your clit heightened to heavenly levels and when you emerged from your dream, you found yourself being able to breathe—your momentary disappearance tricking your shame into leaving. It was difficult for you not to touch yourself and you opted to adhere to Yoongi’s wish, not risking to feel worse than you already had. 

The war ended, undeterred by the fact you never expected it to. 

Loud swear words roar in Korean. You rise to your feet to open the front door for Yoongi and you discover that he’s not alone at all. 

The same pair of round eyes, the cause of all the ruckus you just departed from, meet yours, hauling you back there with a force. Your mouth falls agape and before you can react any further, Yoongi stumbles into you. You almost topple over, realizing you didn’t care to steal a glance at the state of him, but the male grabs a hold of Yoongi’s jacket and pulls him back. You wish you had tumbled over and the floor had opened up and swallowed you whole. It would have been less embarrassing than to be stuck in this situation. You want to run, you want to scream— 

“He’s drunk out of his own mind,” the male says, his voice deep like the warm wind before a tumultuous storm, fitting just right with the thunder of Yoongi’s intonation, his gaze wandering over the entirety of your shock-stricken face, taking it in; giving you the same attention that fucked you up hours ago. Yoongi begins to mumble something you can’t momentarily focus on, his hands grasping your waist, lips latching onto your neck. No, you cannot for the life of you focus because the man steals you all over again and you hate how easy it is for him to do that, when you’re far from being available. “Don’t ask what made him drink this much.”

Did Yoongi get drunk because he let his friend in on your most intimate moment? 

Humiliated, turned on and angry altogether, a concoction that simply worsens everything, you draw back from your boyfriend. You want to beat at his chest with your fists just to have some sort of relief from blaming him—because if you blame yourself, only doom consumes you. Why did he call you? Or, essentially, why didn’t he step away to take that damned video call? 

“Thanks for walking him home,” you say eventually, your voice smooth, despite the violence of your feelings, despite wanting to say something else entirely. Your first words to him and, wholeheartedly—despite it all, you hope they aren’t last, even if that possibly makes you a despicable person. 

Yoongi’s friend nods. Chews his bottom lip and lowers his gaze to the ground for a split second. You wonder if he feels the need to remove himself from this uncomfortable situation as much as you do because you can’t read anything in that paleness of his countenance. Not a hint of any emotion whatsoever, just blandness of expression, slightly dimmed by the few thick strands of black hair that have fallen from his disheveled, pushed back mullet. As if they did fight after all, perhaps on the way home, or wrestled if Yoongi was being difficult. 

You don’t realize you and the male are just staring at each other until Yoongi places his hand on your cheek, brushing back a wisp of your tresses. Only then do your eyes flick to Yoongi’s and you finally notice him, the gloss in his hooded irises searching and searching for you, the rosy blush on his cheeks, dry parted mouth and the dart of his tongue as he wets it, softening the flecks that have been created there. 

This is it. If you are focused on him, all things are made right—all things that have been stained get purified and dreams get turned into dust. This is the man you’ve fallen for, who puts you before himself and has done so every day since the moment he made you his. You can’t let anyone else get in the way of the home that your relationship has become, you can’t let your feelings flee—

“For the record,” Yoongi’s friend starts, hand massaging circles on the nape of his neck, the leather of his jacket tight around his arm. Your heart jumps and beats against your chest ferociously. “I didn’t see anything, if that helps you sleep better tonight.” 

It’s such a fat lie and you’re about to shake your head, but then he looks at you with such sincere regret that, ultimately, you choose to believe him. Just to keep your peace of mind unscarred. 

Yoongi tightens his hold around your waist, which grounds you, and a small part of you begins to bloom in healing, disseminating little by little across your whole body. 

A healer with big, round eyes. A good man. 

With a swing, Yoongi closes the door but you don’t hear the click. No, the light spills in from the hallway. Your hands reach for the doorknob but Yoongi blocks them and wraps them around his waist while swaying on his feet. He traces the shell of your ear with his lips, his alcohol-reeking breath wafting over you, and softly, you whine his name. Shuffling beyond the door, feet never entirely moving—the male is still standing outside and he hears as Yoongi hums at your call, as the sound grows into a groan at the feeling of being alone with you at last, at the feeling of all that makes you feminine under his hands. He hears your gasp as Yoongi pushes your chest flush to his body, kisses you harshly and cups your bare pussy. Hears the smack of your mouths, the pop once he withdraws, the squelch of your wetness. Hears as Yoongi murmurs, “you been horny, baby? Wet for me, hm?”

It’s those words that make him shut the door for you.

You made Yoongi drink a lot of water. 

And while he downed the glasses, you ordered him Thai food from his phone, which he now devours. You had wanted to change out of your flimsy robe into your plush pajamas, but Yoongi stopped you with a tight grip on your shoulder and with the nastiest puppy eyes he could manage, considering his plastered state, he begged you not to. Informed you that he wanted to fuck you in your little robe and you told him that if he wanted that, he needed to get sober. 

He’s your boyfriend and you trust him, but you don’t feel comfortable having sex with him while he’s wasted and you’re not. It’s a dangerous territory you don’t ever want to cross. 

So, now he eats as quietly as a mouse, feeding you every other bite with his chopsticks, meanwhile you’re jittering your leg with your arms crossed across your chest, mind full of the male who walked him home. Of the way he pulled you under and resurfaced with you soon after. Of the calm peace you feel all over the perimeter of your mind that peculiarly stresses you out. Of what would happen if you voiced your little dream to Yoongi, especially. 

Was it out of the question or would he consider it? 

Your leg jitters harder. 

You want to tell him, badly. Seeing his friend in real life changed fucking everything. If you hadn’t, you would’ve forgotten about it in the days to come. Yoongi would’ve fucked it out of you in most probability. But those eyes… those eyes got under your skin. 

“Stop fidgeting,” Yoongi scolds with his mouth full of food, no hint of slurring. The hot meal and hydration worked a miracle. “You’re making me nervous.” 

He picks up two cut pieces of chicken with his chopsticks and stuffs your mouth, adding a few pieces of vegetables as you’re chewing. Watches you swallow it, noticing how your eyes are focused on nothing in particular on the other side of the room. Tucking his utensils under his palm, he places his hand on your thigh, halting your restless motion. 

You still won’t look at him. Too lost in the overthinking maze, debating whether you should speak or remain quiet about your desire. A strong part of you fears his reaction and the other half is horrified at the possibility of being turned down—

Yoongi takes his hand away. Props it on his cheek. 

“I can see your pussy from here,” he says, licking his lips. “You’ve shaved?” 

You breathe a soft laugh, turning your head to face him, covering yourself with the small fabric. Dark, but tender eyes, void of any glossiness, awake and stirred—amused. Cheeks awash with color. Lips puffy, a dark tinge of red coating them. A sturdy fist on his cheek, the milky jawline underneath. That messy hair, the slicked-back look ruined by the constant rake of his fingers through them, now falling to the side from the middle. That slender body, clad in the night from head to toe—legs outstretched under the table. So fine, so delicious. A beautiful strong man—all yours. Why do you want another one? 

You slide your leg across his thighs and Yoongi slouches in his seat, discarding his chopsticks. 

“I shaved everything,” you respond, cocking your brow at him—a sly invitation for him to feel its smoothness. 

And he does. Runs his hand up and down your skin. Goes as far as lifting your other leg onto his lap, cradling them both, thumb caressing your calf. The movement causes your robe to expose you again and, cursing the fabric, you go to cover yourself, but Yoongi stops you. 

“Don’t bother,” he mutters. “I wanna look at it.” 

You raise your brows altogether, looking up at him. “You wanna look at her?” 

Yoongi smirks. That dangerous tug of one corner of his mouth to the side. Your death, your undoing, the root of your submission to him. “I want to have her at my disposal.”

You gulp and Yoongi catches it, chuckling. Drifts his hand down your calf, to your heel, to the middle of your foot up to your toes. He plays with your pinky. You note the fact he changed the pronoun after you did. 

Your arousal returns at full speed.

“Did that make you wet?” Low, low is his voice—you feel it prodding at your core, thrumming vehemently. 

You blossom like your roses, thoughts put to the side. 

“I’ve been wet this entire time,” you say, zeroing in your gaze on the flick of dimness that whirls past his eyes. “For hours.” 

He makes a sound of pitiful nature. “Poor baby.” Furrows his brows and juts his bottom lip out, making you weak. Lets his hand roam on your thigh. “So you listened? You didn’t touch yourself?” 

You merely nod your head quickly. You were too distressed to give your body the pleasure it sought. Too busy flaring your lungs with the burn of smoke. And you respected his wish enough to keep your hands to yourself. 

Yoongi coos. “Good girl.” 

A flashback—your lips wrapping around your slick-coated finger, Yoongi praising you and… another pair of eyes watching. Chills spread across your arms, your stomach flipping. Thankfully, your shame is kept at bay. It relieves you. 

“Can I feel how wet you are?” 

A sweet, devious smile. “If you can manage to get to her.” 

You press your thighs tightly together. Yoongi looks at you as if you’ve greatly offended him and alas, he turns your chair so you face him head-on. Forces your thighs apart without any strain at all—and there you feel it, the embarrassment of fucking with him, once your pussy is at complete disposal to him just like he wanted. 

“If your pussy wasn’t so pretty, I’d make you regret your words,” he purrs, eyes fixed on your drenched flesh, hands pushing your thighs back until your knees are at level with your shoulders, folds parting with the movement, revealing more of you. Yoongi wets his mouth with his tongue. 

He thumbs your gleaming lips back and forth, collecting your essence, mesmerized by them. Looks at you intently. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to say sorry, though,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. “Would it?” 

You grin at him. “Sorry, Yoongi.” 

He rubs your swollen clit in slow circles, still with his bedewed thumb, still with his eyes on you. You choke out a moan at the delight permeating through your being. “That’s not the proper way to apologize, now is it?”

You lean your pelvis into his touch, a natural body reaction unfolding. He disapproves. You scrunch your face. “What should I say?” 

Yoongi tuts. “I’m barely touching you and you already forgot your manners?” 

The only answer you emit is an uncouth whine. 

He shakes his head, putting pressure into his circles for a mere beat of time before he slaps your pussy curtly. A vivid spasm of pleasure fills you and you moan. “Needy girl. Don’t I take care of this pussy enough? What’s this behavior?” 

Another whine. A roll of your body, asking for more of his touch. “Spank her again.” 

A cock of his brow. Harsh, stern, evil. His hand remains propped on his thigh, shoulders hunched. “I didn’t hear you say please. You wanna be bad? You want me to make you cry?” 

You know just how much he’s capable of doing that. You shake your head ‘no’. You want gentleness, the kind you saw in his friend’s eyes—

You flutter your own shut to get rid of that thought. Take a deep breath. 

“Spank my pussy again, please.” 

Yoongi massages the apex of your thigh, dangerously close to your cunt, squeezing the flesh every once in a while. 

“Apologize first.” 

“You didn’t tell me how.” 

He clicks his tongue and pinches your folds and your clit between his fingers. You cry out, and then Yoongi gets up to his feet, leaning over you, propping his hand on the back of your chair. He begins to swiftly spank your pussy over and over again. You just jump at every contact, moaning, eyes flicked to his, never breaking apart. Taking it, taking it so well that Yoongi kisses you nastily, licking into your mouth. Then, he grunts. Fingers flat against your clit, he moves them from side to side. Roses, a myriad of them, flood your form with their freshness and dewiness, with their beauty and delectation and you shudder, you scream, you arch your back off of the backrest—

“Say, ‘I’m sorry, Yoongi. I’m such a bad girl that I deserve every spank and I’ll take it until it hurts.” 

Flabbergasted and horny beyond measure, your mouth falls agape. Your brain turns into mush, the pleasure paralyzing you, your sounds now loud and obscene, the roses in you flitting, growing and murmuring. Yoongi adds more pressure to your clit and your eyes sink back into your head, his darkness wafting over to you, seeping into your skin—now completely yours. 

You repeat after him—word for word. With a simper on your face that causes him to scowl at you, as if you dared to toy with your punishment he bestowed upon you. But then, a tongue prods the inside of his cheek and he laughs, taking a hold of his dominant role and making sure you know. He spanks your clit twice in a row, hands lifting to fondle your nipples. 

“Good,” he praises. “You like that, don’t you? Spanks on your pussy?”

You don’t like that softness. Like the personified thunder he is, it is the calm before the storm. It unnerves you, the expectation of what might come next and your disliking of it. Nonetheless, you brim with the craving to have his fingers inside of you. Your hole clenches at that and Yoongi notices, hissing under his breath. The language of the darkness rises on your tongue and you figure that if you let loose, you’ll get your wish fulfilled.

“Yeah, it feels so good—” He pinches your nipples between his knuckles and you mewl, your lashes shaking at the impact, another set of wetness coating your folds. “Please, fuck me with your fi—”

You don’t even get to finish your sentence. Yoongi plunges his middle finger into your heat, cursing at your tightness, at how slippery you are and at the delight of being filled at last, you knit your brows. With his other finger, he traces the outline of your puckered mouth, his breathing hard and ragged. 

“I’ll do anything for that pout of yours, fuck, no matter if you deserve it or not,” he utters, slipping the digit inside. Instinctively, you suck on it and only then does Yoongi begin to pump you slowly. “You just need a little roughness to be good, don’t you?” 

Dumbly, you nod, swirling your tongue around him, but a faint, silenced part of you begs for the gentleness that you know hides somewhere deep inside his chest, never once unfurled during such intimate times. 

You pay it no matter, too fucked out to think. 

When he adds a second finger into your heat, he does the same thing with his other hand. Two fingers in your cunt, two fingers in your mouth. And he fucks you with both until you gag and a light flashes in his eyes—then, he withdraws all together, leaning against the table, his bedewed fingers coming to rest at his hardened length in his pants. 

Roses, opening. Roses, sighing. 

You breathe heavily, needing to finish, needing to have him in your mouth—

“You liked being the center of attention today?” he husks, surveying your whole body, bent in half. 

There it is—the storm. Just what you expected. Cold sweat dribbles down your spine. And it is fear, what you feel, even when you refuse to admit it. Stiff, tempered fear that pervades each and every vein on your body, regarding being possibly degraded, being made feel dirty—regarding, even, tasting the dark wine of his wrath. 

Such a stark, sudden change. 

You don’t want this. You don’t want any of it.

Abruptly, an internal question comes and pokes you in the middle of your forehead.

Will you succumb to it or will you, with the wildly fresh darkness within you, fight against it?

You take a deep breath, and in with the air also follows, with the little rationality you have amidst the sensuality of your lecherous appetite, the decision to take a hold of it all. To take charge. Just like he did.

You shall prioritize yourself. Your feelings, your desires—your roses.

Your choice envelops your fear in bubble wrap. It doesn’t dissipate. And as much as it pains you, you take a mental note of that. 

“I did,” you spit out, angered by the fact you’re afraid of your boyfriend, and so you stand your ground. “It made me so fucking needy and I want more.” 

The relief that hits you almost causes you to weep and you lower your legs to the ground. Not wanting him to see the film of tears clouding your eyes, you avoid his gaze. Yoongi crosses his arms across his chest and clicks his tongue at you, disapproving. 

“Keep your legs where they belong.” 

“No.”

A lift of his brow. He crouches down to your level and cradles your face in his hand, forcing you to look at him. And there he sees, under the waterfall of your hair, your emotions at his disposal. Yoongi studies you, frowns at you and you want to sob, you want to go home. Shame slithers towards your spine like a ghost, and although it keeps a distance, you feel its presence prickling your back. You cover your cleavage. 

“Why are you crying?” Yoongi asks, a silky murmur, eyes flicking between yours. His fingers don’t caress your skin; they merely hold you firmly, making dents in the skin. 

You don’t trust that voice, dismayed by what might lie under. 

“Why did you do that to me?” you ask in return, and it’s a blue fire shooting out, engulfing the room in stifling heat. You catch a glimpse of its sparks in the dimness of his eyes, of how he’s momentarily stricken by it before it folds beneath the shadows.

“You want to get fucked by someone else?” 

A question for a question. 

You swallow down the lump in your throat, caused by your frustration. 

Your devotion to him didn’t let you go as far as to imagine being fucked by his friend while Yoongi watched, but the brief flash of it in your mind is enough incentive for the heat to spill into you, mingling with the darkness, turning you candescent, traveling through you until it finds your core—and there, it stays. There, it finds home. 

The pulse on your clit returns, filling you with abrupt energy. 

There’s something about him coming up with it that makes you unhinged, but you’re so utterly sick of the instability of your feelings. You need it to stop.

“And what if I do?” you retort. “What will you do?” 

Truthfulness, at last.

Yoongi takes in a sharp inhale of breath, and that is the only reaction you receive from him. Nothing else on his face flickers; no wrath, no sliver of jealousy, not one thing. You stare at an empty canvas, ready for you to paint on. And you simply decide that you want to start. 

You push his hand away from your face. Stand up to your feet. But the hardened look he gives you inclines you to sit back down. 

You fight against it. 

Untangling the knot on your robe, you let him see your bare femininity. The perkiness of your breasts, the long dip of your stomach that he likes to pepper kisses on. Yes, you’re aiming for his weakness. 

And you decide to repeat history. 

You reach your hand down, lower and lower while he stares you down, and you collect your glimmering essence. Sinking your finger into your mouth, you make a show of rolling your eyes back and moaning faintly, softly. Your other hand, in the meantime, unbuttons his pants. 

The breath Yoongi inhaled hitches in his throat. 

“Is this not evidence enough?” you purr, dragging down his zipper. “How else am I supposed to show you?” 

You pull his manhood out as you suck on your finger, all while maintaining eye contact. You don’t touch him beyond that. In fact, you withdraw your hand altogether. 

And then, you collect your essence again. 

This time, you smear it across his bottom lip. Yoongi lets you. Your heart thuds, threatening to jump out of your chest. 

“Your actions during the video call told me everything,” you whisper, catching the sliver of wooziness scattering along his narrowed eyes. “And I think you liked it more than me—the thought of sharing me. You can’t hide it. Not when I saw it.” 

Yoongi growls. Then, he surprises you. 

He parts his lips for you. 

And the contact of the pad of your finger with his wet tongue coaxes a string of your dewiness to drip down the side of your thigh. You moan for him. Relieved, fucked up, woozy just the same. Finally, finally, finally. 

You’re in charge. And it feels divine. 

His length twitches against the fabric of his T-shirt. Long, hard, drooling. Such a delight for you—and so you continue. 

“I also think it made you hard. Not just because you called me when I was touching myself, but because your friend was right there beside you,” you purr, your voice a seductive sound of silk—leading him to wrap his lips around your digit. You moan for him, showing him how much you like that. “Isn’t that right, baby?” Your walls clench at the pet name, solely due to the fact that these soft terms of endearment have always been addressed to you, never the other way around. It thrills you. “I’d always be devoted to you, even if he fucked me. I’d look at you the entire time. If that’s what you want. I had a different idea, but yours is just—” you pause, and again you make a show of sighing and rolling your eyes back, “better.” 

A straight hit to his core. A glee for you. 

But you don’t realize how much you fucked up until Yoongi grips your waist and the hold hurts enough that you wince. 

And then—then he manhandles you. 

Lifting you and laying you down on the table, Yoongi spreads your legs. Watches you drip, watches as the satiny fabric follows the movement of your limbs and reveals you in all your entirety. He pulls you closer to him with a sharp tug until you collide with the tops of his thighs. Bends over you. Hovers his lips above yours. You expect him to kiss you—he even angles his head and rubs the side of his nose against yours—but he never does. 

He only leaves you waiting. Leaves you submitted to your empty expectations, taking charge, taking his control back from you. You shiver in anticipation, reaching for him, however he pins your hands down on either side of you. An angel in a rose garden. 

Yoongi chuckles, darkly, his teeth glinting in the yellow light. You fight against his hold, hips rolling against the underside of his length, beckoning him to do something, anything. You merely manage to prolong the thunder of his laughter. 

“One cock isn’t enough for her, so baby wants two,” he spits. That smirk, the crinkles around his eyes—he’s enjoying this. The hint of degradation doesn’t reflect what’s swarming inside of him, doesn’t reflect the face of pleasure coursing down his body. You smile and he scoffs. “I have enough friends for you to choose from in case you want more. I think you’d be stellar at taking three cocks. Four, even, huh? Would you have enough then? One in your tight little virgin ass, two in your cunt, one down your throat?” 

You gulp, frozen, eyes widening. 

Yoongi bites his shiny lips, nudging the tip of his nose against yours. Kisses you once. Begins to rock his hips, his length sliding across your wet fleshiness. The moan that escapes your throat trembles with each delicious motion. 

“You watch too much porn, honey,” he coos, giving you tiny kisses on the mouth. “I’d kill anyone who would come near this pussy. And I’d kill Jungkook, too, if he so much as glanced at her.” 

So that’s his name. You mewl, knitting your brows. That’s his pretty name. The entirety of your form shivers at the discovery, at the pleasure given to your throbbing clit. 

Yoongi pulls back, setting your hands free. 

You prop your elbows on the table, pouting. Yoongi grasps his length, spreads his arousal and begins to jerk himself off. 

“You’re not fucking Jungkook. You’re mine.” He groans, squeezing his tip; your hole clenches. “Rub your clit.” 

Like him, you spread your arousal on your seashell, the arousal long caused by his presence and now the mention of his name—the reason behind your frustration and his, the reason why you’re spread on the dining table, why your boyfriend is hard. You rub your clit from side to side, amused. 

“No,” Yoongi disapproves, knowing you do the motion when you want to prolong the build-up. “Circles. Make yourself come.” 

You change direction, obeying him. A sly grin blossoms on your lips, dark eyes looking up into his, permeating them, permeating into his soul. You pick up the pace, moaning into your expression of elation. 

“Jungkook is such a pretty name,” you provoke and you heighten your sounds in volume and intensity just to piss him off, just to have your way. 

A grunt escapes him, matching your pace. He wraps his fingers around your throat and squeezes. You hum. 

“A pretty name to moan in my opinion.” A layer of sweat coats your body. Yoongi grasps your jawline firmly and your satisfied laughter inches you closer to your orgasm. You feel the hot flashes, roses surrounding you—its tender petals grazing your feverish skin. You give in, watching Yoongi do the same, his mouth in a tight line, hissing and sizzling, an open fire, an open fire you want to be radiated by, burned whole by. “Just imagine him here, watching us. Oh my god, imagine him knowing he’s the reason why you and I are doing this.” 

Yoongi has had enough. 

He pushes you down harshly. Fills your hole to the hilt without letting you adjust, observing himself disappearing inside of you and begins to pound you into the table. The sound of skin slapping, the hard and quick strokes, the ravaged grunts he lets out, the fast change—it all takes your breath away, so much that you can’t, in fact, breathe. He grabs your face and makes you look at him. The dead of the night captured in his features, you absorb it, whining like the brat you are onto his mouth, mingling into your noises your approval, your yes’. 

Swallowing it, he kisses you, keeping his eyes open. “He could never fuck you like this.” 

You laugh. He swallows that, too, moaning. “What if he could?” 

He taps you on the cheek, a warning, giving you an exceptionally hard stroke that causes you to scream. He pauses. Does it again. Over and over—and your screams echo across the room, your own soul slipping out of your body. Petals flutter against you and you’re done for, hanging off the edge. You’re close, so terribly close. Your eyesight blurs and Yoongi pulls out entirely and rams into you. Again and again, abusing your cervix. 

You moan his name, gone—entirely gone. 

“Yes, moan my name like that. Just mine,” he mutters. “Who’s fucking you this good? Who’s gonna make you come?” 

He rams into you more rapidly than before. Your senses leave you until all that you know is Yoongi. His name, his scent, the wholeness of the night encompassing him. 

“You, Yoongi, you. Fuck, I—”

Yoongi laughs maniacally. “Yes, that’s right. That’s my good girl.” 

He rolls his hips, slowing down the coming of your orgasm, owning you. Lets your senses come back to you momentarily. You swallow, your throat dry and you blink, dazed still. Yoongi kisses you, giving you all that he took from you. 

“Who’s only capable of fucking you like this, honey, hm?” he asks, his voice tender and sing-song. “My pretty honey, so fucked out. So out of it.” 

You whine and you don’t control what comes out of you, your body answering for you. “You, Yoongi. You’re fucking me so—so good. I can’t—fuck. You’re the only one.” 

He smiles down at you fondly, kissing your nose, then your lips, parting your mouth and swirling his tongue around yours briefly. Then he withdraws, begins to fuck you again, slowly, reaching to the side for something. 

Once you see his phone in his hand, your heart stops. And when he puts the device to his ear, your throat dries up even more. You suddenly become aware of the silence all around, especially in your chest. You can’t breathe, you can’t blink—

Yoongi jackhammers into you, purposefully luring your loud noises out of you. “My girlfriend wants to fuck you.” 

You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut, the suddenness, the quickness of pleasure you haven’t yet felt piercing you. Fuck hot flashes and petals, you feel a heavy urge of your orgasm closing down on you. 

“She’s so desperate for you, even when I’m fucking the life out of her.” 

You flutter your eyes open to see Yoongi surveying you. You scrunch your face—so close, so fucking close—and then he puts the phone to your ear. Breathing, hard, ragged breathing fills all of your senses and you come. 

It’s an explosion. Roses bursting, their dew soaking you and Yoongi whole and you exit. You exit out of this situation, this world, this universe while your soul remains here with them. Vibrancy, colors so beautiful and sensations so vivid, ardent and fierce. You don’t know what it is you’re feeling or where you are. That is, until Yoongi’s voice yanks you back to planet Earth, back into this world, this situation—back to them. 

“In fact, she just came for you. Squirted.” 

You sob. Overstimulated, rhapsodic, but effulgent. Yes, you emit light and glow. You can see it in Yoongi’s softened eyes. 

“Think about it. No pressure. Just know she won’t shut up about you. I recall her saying your name would be pretty to moan while she played with her pussy. I think it’s only right you fuck it out of her.” 

With that, he hangs up. 

You brim with so many emotions that it numbs you. Happy tears flow out of your tear ducts—and happily, endearingly, Yoongi chortles. You don’t even feel humiliation or shame. On the contrary, you’re ready to come again. 

Yoongi kisses you and the sounds he slips into your mouth divulge how happy he is about this, how pleased he is with himself. 

You pout, burning your eyesight into his. He begins to rut into you. 

“What, you’re not even gonna thank me?” he says, grinning, as if he wasn’t fucking you at all, as if you two were still sitting at the dinner table, conversing. 

You stammer, head empty, silencing yourself and trying again. “What—what made you change your mind?” 

Yoongi places open-mouthed, wet kisses along the bone of your jaw, and there he seals his answer. “I made up my mind the moment you admitted you wanted to be fucked by him, but you wouldn’t shut up about him. I wanted to hear you babble for me. About me. I just had to mess you up to get to that point.” 

You mewl, running your hands through his sweat-slicked hair. Like a cat, he perks up to your touch, lifting his head, angling it. He kisses you, deeply. Kisses your relief. 

“Where are your manners, hm?” he whispers onto your mouth, giving you hard strokes that erase your vocabulary. You want to make him come and so you push against his thrusts, but to no avail. The intensity won’t allow you. 

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you murmur, cradling his face, pecking him, giving him the softest eyes you could muster so you can show him how much it means to you. 

He approves of your effort on bettering your manners and to reward you, he lifts you up and fucks you in the air. Your breasts bounce against the material of his T-shirt, stimulating you and he alters between jackhammering into you and sliding you up and down on his length. Your pussy squelches around his girth, tightening and Yoongi—

Yoongi loses his mind. 

And it’s him who begins to babble when you snap your hips down on him in circles. 

“Just like that, honey, oh fuck. So good, so good for me.” 

He takes it until his sounds grow in volume and you focus so much on his pleasure that you forget about yours. 

But you don’t let him take charge. 

“Let me fuck you, please, Yoongi. I wanna make you come.” 

Just like you, he’s out of it and because of that, because you asked so nicely, he lets you. 

His chest heaves, staccatos of his choked out breaths sail through the room and you can see it on his face that he’s close. Brows furrowed, bottom lip bleeding due to the way he bites hard on it, the way his mouth pops open and his eyes flutter closed. 

You hold onto his neck with your dear life. 

“Look at me,” you demand and swirl your hips in slow circles around his tip. “I want you to look at me when you come.” 

You’re so stunned that he allows you to be in charge, even more when he truly does open his eyes and pierces his gaze into yours. 

“I need to pull out,” he breathes, but you shake your head, snapping your hips down on him harshly.

“No, I want your cum in me. And I want it to be inside of me when Jungkook fucks me.” 

Yoongi grunts and this is it for him. His cock twitches in you, over and over again and then you feel it—the hot, thick ropes of his cum stuffing you full. You’re so mesmerized by the feeling, by the blissfulness evident on his face, by the smoothness between his brows at last that you can’t even milk him dry. You’re frozen, stupefied by his beauty, by his personal rapture and you want to feel it in unity with him. You kiss him. 

It’s him who fucks him cum into you, burying it deep, moaning into your lip lock. 

It’s him who lays you down to your original position and briefly, feebly licks the sheen on your spread lips before devouring your clit. 

It’s him who gives you the fastest orgasm of your life. 

And it’s him who tells you—in the shower—the story of how he almost beat up Jungkook black and blue once he heard him say how pretty you are.

And it’s you who checks up on him. 

“You sure you’re okay with this?” 

You’re stroking his hair in the bed, the duvet heavy and warm around your body and his, the night overflowing into morning—Yoongi, too. 

He’s falling asleep, but still conscious, still here with you, purring. 

“I wouldn’t be waking him up in the middle of the night if I wasn’t,” he whispers, opening his eyes to look at you, to see you enveloped in the extra blanket of the dawn’s rosy light—glowing, throwing the sun off of its throne. “Poor guy just got out of the military and you’ve already rocked his world.” 

You smile, fondly, thumb caressing his temple. Yoongi hums in appreciation. 

“I’m happy for him he’s getting pussy—one that’s mine. Before he enlisted, he spent all his time painting and getting drunk alone,” he pauses in a thought, blinking at the light. “You still want this?” 

You nod, settling into his chest. Yoongi pulls you closer, tucking the duvet into the lines of your form, bringing in comfort and sleepiness. 

“I’ll make sure you have the time of your life. I’ll be here the whole time, taking care of you,” he promises against your hair and you squeeze him. 

“He hasn’t said yes, though. He could turn me down.” 

“I’ve seen the way he looked at you. You have nothing to fear. He’ll come to you like a puppy.” 

Yoongi sinks the promise onto the plane of your forehead and holds you as you drift to sleep. Happy, relieved, steamed off of all the negative things you went through. It evaporates into the dawn—far, far away from you. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist / READ part two 

[theobsessiveloser18]

Joshaya head cannons

•Once or twice a month they meet, spend time together (with their friends)

•Josh has had dinner at the Hunter house, Shawn and Katy love him (Even so they let him know that he must be careful With little Mayaboushka)

“I'm watching you Spawn Matthews”

“Come on Shawn, you and I are like cool cousins, you tried to change my diapers, what's changed now?”

“that you are in a 'we will see' with My adopts child”

“Don't worry dad, if he breaks my heart, his face will be stuck in the floor for my babies." She pointed to his high heels.

“That's My Dwarf Girl”

“i had a little scary”

•Maya goes to her university events, conferences, thesis exhibitions, no matter how boring the antics are she will be there trying not to fall asleep,But if there is some kind of sporting event Josh will be forced to attend, it doesn't matter if he doesn't understand them or doesn't like them, he is a little less enthusiastic than the girl But he makes sure that she doesn't get into fights With those on the opposite tribune

•Likewise, when he discovered that his future girl was an artist, he became his greatest ally (he and Riley constantly compete to see who is the number one fan). He gives her everything she needs In order for her to continue creating, and even materials to experiment with, is she going to exhibit her works at school? He arrived an hour before her and is organizing the space, he has even introduced her to The university artists, so that she continues to grow In the area

“Maybe you can study here, we would see each other daily”

“When I enter, you will be leaving, if at most we would spend a year together” He approached her in a flirtatious manner

“It would be a great year” it was a change of roles now Maya was nervous, she smiled shyly

“Yes, it would be”

•As it was said at the beginning they spend time with each other's group of friends, Josh tends to be a little ignored in Maya's, while in his she is like the favorite

•But the two of them also go out, they go to concerts, the movies, festivals, fairs, anything that screams fun means that Maya will be taking it, although generally they both contribute ideas of where to spend the time,Included in activities that only one of them likes

•What happens on Theirs outings?

Cinema:

~Maya starts an argument in the middle of the movie about what will happen next and how it will end, Josh tries to warn her, but people end up yelling at him and throwing food at him to make him shut up(She'll end up complaining about this, then they'll both laugh)

~When leaving the cinema they will eat whatever comes their way

Concerts:

~Maya will make them something related to the band(s) they are going to see, whether it be a bracelet, a pin, a ribbon, or a kerchief

“It is necessary?"

“Of course it is” (He would prefer to buy them, but oh well,Sometimes it does)

~Josh will carry her on his shoulders so she can see

Park:

~They fed the ducks,Or they'll give Ginger a little spin and pet other people's pets.

~Maya will draw everything she finds interesting, Josh will advise her to draw people for 5 dollars, it will be fine for her.

~They will take advantage to make the market

Amusement park

~They will save enough to go to all the games, literally all of them, that's why they don't go very often, but it's part of their goal list to go 3 times a year

~Many photos will be taken

~They will give away what they get in the games

“Why do you think that a philosophy student Would you have a little cow with a bow and a dress in your room?

“With your face I wouldn't be surprised if you still use a pacifier and bib to eat.

(Delight with these cuteness)😍🤩😊☺️

~Josh will carry Maya while she points out where to go (he will also carry her if she doesn't want to walk anymore or if she is very tired, he offers to do it, more than she asks).

•Maya doesn't waste the opportunity to pretend she's lost, she's amused to see Josh scared, but most of the time he'll notice, and make her believe she's really lost, just to scare her From behind before she calls him.

•She likes to give him constant playful hits on the shoulder or stomach, when he is being very nerdy, very deep, or rather when he is being himself.

•we said that That Josh is going to eat at Maya's house, but the Matthews grandparents (Amy and Allan) love having Maya at home, you could say that Amy would be a better daughter-in-law with her than with Topanga (Amy sucks at Christmas or Thanksgiving dinner at girl meets world, okay? Good)They even talk to Josh about why he shouldn't break a person's heart with that backstory.

“I have learned everything I need to know about the failed relationships of Eric, Morgan, Shawn, and even the infidelity and love drama of America's sweethearts... Yours love story is almost a mystery and frankly I am not interested, I am already raised, I will be the perfectly human right for her, I have been clear about that from the beginning.”

“Wait, wait, wait!!, that's too much” Amy warned him

“We were talking about being the good high school rebound Partner, everyone has had one” Amy looked at him confused and intrigued “Have you thought about marrying her?!”

He looked embarrassed, he didn't respond.

[autisticempathydaemon]

Greetings, I was referred to try these matchups by a friend of mine who had roped the rest of our house into their shenanigans so here I am: 1. Currently, it's Whose Honey Are You by Fats Waller, particularly:

"Please tell me, Have you really made your mind up Who it's gonna be? Don't you think, before we wind up, We're terrific, you and me!" it reminds me of an old club I met my spouse in and it's been coming back to my mind recently. 2. My enneagram type is Type Eight, the challenger. 3. Not truly, I enjoy documentaries but those kinds of videos ain't my cup of tea. I'm more inclined towards music. 4. I did not have an imaginary childhood friend, not that one I can remember anyways, it's been some time since I was a child. 5. Typically I don't sleep as much but I do like to do so after reading for a bit. 6. I would change it to Leopold. I don't have much of reason, I just like the name 7. I happen to like Aaron's "Your Tsundere Boss Boyfriend wants to talk" audio, it feels real in a sense and shows a lot of maturity in handling a relationship that I appreciate seeing. 8. I don't seem to get the appeal behind David Shaw, he just seems too much like a tough head and needs to get his ass beat 9. Despite their quality, I do like the Hallmark drama movies, not because I enjoy them but they're just fun to mock as I watch them. One that I know is "Til Death Do Us Part: An Aurora Teagarden Mystery" on account of how much a friend of mine watched it while I was around. 10. I do like Aaron, he's has a good head on his shoulders, I can see myself having a good talking with him over dinner. 11. I usually talk about history when I ramble, I've learned enough where I can speak on it and if I'm caught in a mood then I would be caught rambling for too long 12. I don't much indulge in that kinda food, I'm more inclined to a home-cooked meal. Something like Jambalaya would do well for me. 13. My favorite playlist would have to be one my spouse set up for me with my favorite Jazz musicians in there, I listen to it here and there. 14. I suppose the answer to this would be the same to number eight, which is hallmark movies. 15. Something else that I feel could help you to know about me is that...I like having people in my life, I don't act like it much but I do appreciate them all. I also play the Cello and I run my own shop for charms and occult items.

Hmmm… actually, let’s be real. That “hmmm…” is not real, because it’s so obvious who your match would be. How could I pair you with anyone but Camelopardalis?

Like, you like to talk about history? Awesome, Cam was there for the history (because I will believe he’s old as hell until god tells me otherwise.) You like maturity, honesty, and transparency in your relationships? Cam’s literally a therapist; I would hope he’s got all those on lock. I think your personalities and your lifestyles would be instantly compatible, and you two would connect queerplatonically or romantically with ease.

Oh, and what an easy, lovely life it would be, Cam being a perfect fit in your household. He’d get along so well with your spouse, as he strikes me as an amicable person to get along with. He loves jazz and the sound of your cello; perhaps you two even play together. (I could see Camelopardalis having picked up the piano in all of his years.) He’s an avid reader with a huge collection, so he frequently shares with you, giving you good recommendations for things to read before bed. He loves to loiter around the shop and watch you work, maybe watching the till while you’re in the back or knitting behind the counter on slower days. (Really, the only point of disagreement I could think of is that he genuinely, unironically loves Hallmark movies.)

Song:

Like a song of love that clings to me/ How the thought of you does things to me/ Never before has someone been more/ Unforgettable/ In every way/ And forevermore/ That's how you'll stay

One, it’s a jazz love song classic- the jazz love song classic, if you will. It’s also sweet, singable, and a little somber, perfect for slow dancing in the shop while the rain keeps the customers and bad things away. Two. I couldn’t resist, given Cam’s job in memory modification; it was too punny.

Runner-ups:

Hmm, so James was a pretty compelling option for you. I like his vibes as a match, but he strikes me as more of a platonic, social companion than a romantic one. Vega is a runner-up, because imagining him in your occult shop is really funny and charming. Like, that’s a sitcom right there.

note: @mr-laveau come get yo juice

Read this post and send me an ask if you’d like a match-up of your own! 💌

[eternallyblight]

Highlights from Appetite for Distortion Podcast with Brendon Small

Listen to the podcast here

The tour, movie, and album being released around the same time was a deliberate decision. When Brendon started getting this project together around three years ago, he knew he's be putting together a record, a soundtrack, a movie, and a tour all within the same week.

How Brendon approaches writing the Dethalbum IV and creating Army of the Doomstar:

It's not him working. It's Dethklok literally telling him what to do. He's just a jerk with a guitar doing what Skwisgaar tells him to do. For vocals, he's doing what Nathan's telling him to do. When he's voicing them in the movie, those characters are taking over. He'll do the dialogue but they'll surprise him with improve.

Since Brendon's the scriptwriter and director, he's like an Angry God. He'll be like throwing them into ceiling fans or into a fire to see how they get out.

About Guns n'Roses and Snakes n'Barrels.

Slash has been on the show. Twice. (Birthdayface and Tributeklok) He's one of Brendon's favorite guitar players of all time.

Learning about heavy metal happens at an important age. For Brendon, he was around 13/14. He bought two distinct albums. Def Leppard's Hysteria and Guns N'Roses Appetite for Destruction. He was blown away to the astral plane of the music and aggressive guitar playing. It's still one of his favorite albums to this day. He'll take long walks listening to album front to back, top to bottom.

He thought that Pickles was like Dave Grohl. Like in a band like Guns n'Roses and Aerosmith like rock band before he was in Dethklok. There would be songs where Brendon used a top box to play.

One day, Slash was working on an animation at the same company Brendon worked at. There was a package that came with pedals from MXR Dunlop. Slash was there when that box came and they opened the box together and went through all these pedals. Slash looked at the pedals and pointed to Brendon which was one cool, which one he has and uses. Brendon even shows Slash's wall pedal that he also used on the record.

Now some fan questions.

Will Brendon ever release a studio version of Water Horsey Blues from Snakes n'Barrels I?

Brendon was surprised to hear the question. He's glad that people still listen to it all these years later. He wishes he had the time and resources to make music for these kinds of bands in the Metalocalypse universe. Like a Snakes n'Barrels record, a Dr. Rockzo record, even Toki's whimsical dream songs. But there's no plan as of yet.

Will Brendon ever plan on releasing the songs from Metalocalypse that didn't make it to the Dethklok albums. (please Brendon I'm on my knees.) Same answer. :,) He has no plan as of yet.

About the movie under the cut. Not spoiler heavy and mainly about the music.

Brendon does have a lot on his plate at the moment. He's got not one but two albums: Dethalbum IV and Army of the Doomstar Soundtrack.

To Brendon, the soundtrack album is really such an important storytelling part of the movie. As you watch the movie you'll hear the orchestra and synthesizer. (He got the Budapest Orchestra to play this score).

The movie, the narrative, the characters is one thing.

The Dethalbum IV, that's the brutality and the mystical.

Army of the Doomstar Soundtrack, the score, is the emotional center of the movie.

All three go together. If you plan on getting one, Brendon thinks you should get them all (the movie, ost, and album). They all do something completely different but they all come from the same central DNA.

Brendon is thankful to be able to complete the story. He's basically living the dream as the interviewer puts it.

Brendon's last words: It's fun to be creative on your own and make music for yourself to listen to. But the fact that this [Metalocalypse and Dethklok] came together in the way that it did, is because there's a fanbase out there. Without them, none of this would have happened. Thanks [for] everyone for being so vocal over the years and I'm excited for you to check it out.

[variousqueerthings]

8 11 32 PLEASE!

HELLOOOOO AND THANK YOUUUUUU! also I remembered how much I overthink when looking at these whoops

8. Describe your gender without using any words traditionally related to gender: You know the opening to the Mr Bean series? Mr Bean gets beamed down onto earth and then it's implied that everyone Mr Bean does after that is literally because of being an alien, but it's never actually confirmed in the text? that but like. with a much more extensive wardrobe

11. Favorite (or just one you love) piece of LGBT media?: WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME???? I'm gonna give u three out of Many that are perfect. and I'm going to connect them to a Theme (I'VE CONNECTED THE DOTS). the thing is that these movies are movies that have at some point held me gently and guided me into a greater understanding of the queer community and history generally, as well as my own feeling of place within this community

My Beautiful Laundrette: This is one of my personal seminal queer movies, I watched it as a young'un/baby queer and it's just. Oh. such softness amidst the violence of the times, and the thing is that the softness is something that saves the main characters from the violence, both as potential perpetrators and victims (and how those can be blurred concepts to begin with). the core of it is two men who come back together amidst the height of neo-nazi anti-immigration 80s England, one of whom is Pakistani British and the other a white skinhead. And they open a laundrette together. This movie is sweet, I promise! it also features one of the subtly hottest moments to me in film history, in which one of them licks the others' neck in public while being watched on one side by Pakistani family members and on the other by white racists but it's angled so none of them see it!

City of Lost Souls: Listen, Rosa Von Praunheim's documentation of trans people (and generally queer people) is so so important for our community and you should check him out, but this film in particular is such a wild fucking ride that is hard to explain. a bunch of queer artists in 80s Berlin (and this movie was made in the 80s so you get some real footage of that great big wall) just like... fuck around? share intense elder wisdom? connect? sing! (oh yeah, it's kind of a musical, a trashy punky musical). This is some of the real deep magic of queer connection. there's an iconic moment in this film (there are several) in which a trans woman picks up a one-night stand and explains to him that she's trans and he's like. "eh no idea what all of that means, but you're saying you're a woman right? great!" and it's just Fine

Desire Lines: listen this movie... I'm almost hesitant to recommend it, because I feel so personally affected by it and it's a one-of-a-kind (so far) insight into transmasculine gay culture that is just. deeply precious and not understood by a lot of even the wider queer community. myself and every transmasc person I know who's seen it have felt somewhat transcendent about it, the way you do the first time you see yourself as (positively) visible in this way, it's almost too much. it's a documentary at heart, but quite experimental in elements of its structure, with parts of it being a fictional telling of a middle-aged iranian trans man who works in an archive and is told of the history of trans men's inclusion in gay bathhouses, lou sullivan, and personal testimonies from gay transmasc people. sometimes you don't notice how deprived you've been until something gives you real oxygen

Hon. mentions: Joyland, Great Freedom, Die Beautiful my personal favourite queer films of 2023, still have me by the throat!!!

32. Do you do arts and crafts? Post a pic of a project you've done: okay I will share a picture of something, but I need to go take a picture when I have a sec. It's not complete, but I've started a little zine that's just a big collection of euphemisms and ways of talking about queerness and it's such a fascinating, fun project that's made me think more expansively about how queerness gets talked about, whether it's in the past or present (or potential futures), within and without the community, as modern, or bigoted, or outdated, or fun, or out-of-the-box, or specific, etc. -- it's very far from done, but I can give a sense of just how many words/phrases/concepts I've picked up + imagery I want to include + the construction of the zine itself, which has a few little secrets to it

[fibula-rasa]

Favorite New-to-Me Films

January ’24

READ on BELOW the JUMP!

(listed in order of collage above, L to R)

Eleven P.M. (1928)

[letterboxd | imdb | kanopy]

Synopsis: Sundaisy, a violinist, tries to fulfill a friend’s dying request to ensure his son is raised away from the criminal element of the city. Unfortunately, Sundaisy is duped by a phony priest, and the boy grows into a low-level crime boss. After a series of misfortunes spurred on by the boy over the course of decades, Sundaisy’s family is nearly ruined. However, Sundaisy’s will for vengeance leads to supernatural consequences. All this is couched in a frame story of a man trying to meet an 11 p.m. deadline.

This is easily my favorite first-time viewing of the month. The synopsis above admittedly does not capture the mystical/transcendental attitude that Eleven P.M. reflects. This is the only film Detroit-based Richard Maurice ever directed, but it displays sophisticated ideas about film storytelling, using an array of devices in inventive ways. It’s always a treat to be reminded of how creative and exciting independent filmmaking can be in America. If you want to check this one out, I advise you to keep an open mind and not approach it with an overly literal, nitpicky mindset. Let Richard Maurice take you on this ride and I don’t think you’ll regret it!

I watched this on the Pioneers of African-American Cinema box set, which I can’t recommend highly enough. The films are outstandingly curated and contextualized and the set showcases an often-overlooked but indispensable part of American cultural history. A lot of the films are also available on streaming through kanopy, which you may be able to access with your library card if you live in the US.

---

Lea on Rollerskates / Lea sui pattini (1912)

[letterboxd | imdb]

Synopsis: Lea isn’t allowed by her parents to go rollerskating with a friend, so she decides to skate in her own bedroom. She proceeds to wreak havoc in the home before an accidental self-defenestration sets her free to wreak havoc at the roller rink instead.

A jam-packed, stunt-heavy bit of nonsense led by Lea Giunchi. I’ve watched quite a few of her films now and I’ve learned this is pretty standard for her. I love each and every pratfall.

---

Two Girls are in Love with Foolshead / Le due innamorate di Cretinetti (1911)

[letterboxd | imdb]

Synopsis: Cretinetti is dating two girls at the same time. The girls decide to duel, but Cretinetti is the one who loses… repeatedly.

I’ve finally gotten around to watching more Andre Deed films and this one was a highlight for January. I don’t know who the skinny woman is, but she and Valentina Frascaroli are great together.

---

X (2022)

[letterboxd | imdb]

Synopsis: A crew of filmmakers leave Houston, TX for the country in order to film a farm-themed porn. The producer of course did not disclose the nature of their stay to the elderly property owners. Said owners have ulterior motives in renting their cabin and respond violently to the group.

Appreciative of all of Ti West’s work, and X has so much going on and so much to say that I originally typed out two full pages (single spaced) on it before I knew it. I won’t be sharing those two pages because I think there are a few points on the approach to gore in recent horror movies that I need to mull over more. For now though, I’ll just say, I didn’t enjoy X at all, but I deeply appreciate what Ti West is putting out there. I probably won’t watch it again and I’m going to be sure my stomach is prepared for whenever I get around to Pearl (2022).

---

The Hayseed (1919)

[letterboxd | imdb | Silent Comedy Watch Party]

Synopsis: Fatty wants to marry Molly, but so does the sheriff. Buster tries to keep the general store in working order while the sheriff plots against Fatty.

Luke the dog is one of my top 5 movie dogs of all time. I’ve never made an official list, but I know in my heart that Luke is at the top. Also, I adore how many modern professional wrestling moves you end up seeing in Fatty/Buster collaborations! In this instance, note the dance sequence with the lady who gets swung around wildly.

---

The Ghost Ship (1943)

[letterboxd | imdb]

Synopsis: Tom Merriam, a young officer, reports for his first commission on a long haul trip on the Altair. The captain has a bit of a strange vibe, but the newbie likes him, at first. As crewmen perish under the captain’s leadership, and the captain’s lectures take on a more sinister tone, Tom knows he needs to act to save the remaining crew and the ship. 

Checked this out as I was on a Val Lewton kick not knowing much about it beforehand. I did not expect it to be a movie about fascism done in microcosm. So, if you were looking for a movie about ghosts or a Flying Dutchman, this ain’t it. Its off-beat structure amped up the tension, though the denouement was a little too pat. Cinematography was fantastic, as you might expect from Nicholas Musuraca. I hope Sir Lancelot got two checks for how much his singing contributes to the movie. Richard Dix is such a skilled actor in everything I’ve seen him in, but he is pitch-perfectly terrifying in this movie.

---

Miss Pinkerton (1932)

[letterboxd | imdb]

Synopsis: A nurse who’s bored with hospital work gets assigned to an old woman who’s ailing after a big shock: finding the dead body of her nephew. The detective on the case asks the nurse to gather reconnaissance for him at the house and she gets all the excitement she can stomach as a result.

Miss Pinkerton is a pre-code gem I somehow have never seen before, despite my devotion to Joan Blondell. The plot and characters are interesting, the cinematography (done by Barney McGill) and staging of the film is very dynamic and Joan Blondell brings so much to Miss Pinkerton with her signature effervescent sass. It’s also just over an hour long, so it would make a great watch for one of those evenings where you’re indecisive but want to find something compelling but compact.

---

Phil-for-Short (1919)

[letterboxd | imdb]

Synopsis: Damophilia “Phil” Illington is a free-spirited tomboy brought up by a Greek-professor father and his right-hand man, Pat. Her lack of lady-like decorum raises the ire of two town elders, who are also the local killjoys. When her father passes away, one of the elders abuses his position of power to force her into a conservatorship. Phil disguises herself as a boy and hightails it with Pat. While on the lam, Phil makes the acquaintance of a young woman-hating Greek professor. Through a set of misadventures, Phil and the Professor end up married, but it takes quite a bit of work after the marriage for them to find happiness with one another.

Great characters and performances and I enjoyed marriage not being treated as the resolution or an end point to the story. It’s also very endearing to see such a pervasively queer story about a man and a woman getting together.

---

The Mystic (1925)

[letterboxd | imdb]

Synopsis: A con artist enlists the help of Hungarian travelling carnival performers to enact a phony medium scheme against the hoi polloi of New York City.

Tod Browning is a sure-bet filmmaker for me and The Mystic was no exception. Highlights for me were: the execution of the seance sequences, Erte’s gorgeous costumes for Aileen Pringle, and an ending that I hoped would happen but assumed wouldn’t!

---

There Ain’t No Santa Claus (1926)

[letterboxd | imdb | Silent Comedy Watch Party]

Synopsis: When Christmas rolls around, Charley doesn’t have enough money to both pay the rent and buy his wife a present. He uses his $80 to buy her a watch, instead of the rent, and his nasty landlord/next-door-neighbor steals the watch. Christmas Day turns into a free for all, when both Charley and his landlord dress as Santa and plan to enter via their respective chimneys for their respective children. 

Well-paced, great comeuppance, and very well-executed gags. Additionally, Charley Chase looks absolutely outrageous in his Santa wig and he knew it!

---

This one didn’t make it into the collage, but it’s still on the list:

Little Moritz Runs Away With Rosalie / Little Moritz enlève Rosalie (1911)

[letterboxd | imdb]

Synopsis: Little Moritz loves Rosalie and wishes to marry her, but her father objects. So, of course Rosalie and Mortiz run away together in his funky little flivver, but dad and the family dog give chase.

Most of this short is the chase sequence and it’s very well executed. Sarah Duhamel is so cute and so is her family dog. The location shooting is nicely done (was this shot in Nice?) This charming poster captures the vibe of the short perfectly:

---

In January we were hit with a nasty winter storm and, while we were relatively lucky in my neighborhood, we were without internet for a third of the month. So, we ended up relying on our home video collection, which accounts for five of the films above and me re-watching two seasons of Soap and Fritz Lang’s Niebelungenlied (1924). 

Despite the holdup, I continued my “Lost, but Not Forgotten” series with The Dancer of the Nile (1923) and started a limited spin-off series, “How’d They Do That?” about special effects and stunts in the silent era. 

I also made themed gif & still sets for: Miss Pinkerton, Dementia (1955), and A Christmas Carol (1971).

Here’s to a less eventful February! And, as always, if you’re interested in any of these films, but have specific content warning needs, feel free to ask me.

[jcbbby]

Happy Halloween (Jamie Campbell Bower x Reader)

A little Halloween short, idea courtesy of @lma1986. :)

"Hey, those are for the kiddos!" You scolded Jamie as you came into the living room carrying popcorn and two cans of seltzer waters, catching him reaching into the big plastic cauldron of candy.

"I only wanted one peanut butter cup!" He playfully whined.

It was Halloween, a time you and Jamie looked forward to starting all the way in August. You both loved the autumn, spooky things, and it was always so fun seeing the trick or treaters come up in their costumes throughout the night. Every year, you decorated the house and doorstep and bought all the best types of candy and chocolates for the kids,. Jamie, being the chocolate fiend he is, always tried to sneak pieces from the candy bowl when you weren't looking. You put down the popcorn and drinks to grab the cauldron of candy and held it close to you.

"You're literally taking candy from babies right now, you monster." You teased.

"Surely one wouldn't make a difference..." He flashed you the dreaded puppy dog eyes he knew you couldn't say no to.

You rolled your eyes, reaching in to grab the peanut butter cup he was after. "Fine...but if we run out of these and some poor excited little kid asks if we have any more because it's their favorite...you have to tell them you ate the last one." You handed him the chocolate.

"Deal." He smiled, happily unwrapping it and popping the whole thing in his mouth.

You set the candy bowl back down on the coffee table, chuckling at how the simplest of pleasures makes Jamie smile.

"Anyway, how do you like my costume?" You asked, giving a little twirl to show your all-white ensemble with a single big yellow circle on your shirt, with devil horns.

He looked at you, confusion seeping through his expression. "I...I don't get it."

"I'm a deviled egg!" You threw out jazz hands.

"Oh my god..." Jamie brought his hand to his face, trying not to laugh at your ridiculous pun.

"And where's your costume?" You asked, looking him up and down, dressed casually in black joggers and a white tank top.

"I'm going to wear my unicorn onesie. I figure I might as well be cozy for a Halloween in." He smiled. "And I'm sure the kids'll get a kick out of it."

You were having a movie marathon while staying home to pass out candy this year. It had been a busy last few Halloweens with Jamie's schedule and work, so you thought it sounded nice to just relax at home this year. You had a play list of movies on deck, Halloween, Rosemary's Baby, Hereditary, IT, and you had bargained for one fun festive movie thrown in there, so The Addams Family was also in the mix.

Once Jamie had gotten into his unicorn onesie, you dimmed the lights and lit a festive scented candle. The two of you settled on to the couch with the popcorn and started the original Halloween on the TV. You nuzzled up to Jamie as he put an arm around you, and grabbed a fistful of popcorn with his free hand. You liked scary movies, but they really did their job with you, you always had to sleep with a light on after watching them. Jamie always chuckled when you would need to close or cover your eyes during a particularly scary part, he thought it was adorable.

About 30 minutes into the movie, the doorbell rang.

"Here we go!" Jamie exclaimed with a smile and hopped up off the couch, grabbing the cauldron of candy, excited to greet the trick or treaters.

You clapped your hands together and hopped up to follow him to the door. On your doorstep, there was a group of three children and a smiling adult holding a very young toddler. The kids were dressed as a witch, a skeleton, and a vampire. The toddler, who couldn't have been more than two, being held was dressed in an adorable pumpkin costume.

"Trick or treat!" The kids yelled in unison, excitedly.

"Oh my goodness, look at these scary costumes!" Jamie exclaimed.

"You all look so great!" You smiled. "Are you having a fun Halloween?"

"Yeah!" They agreed.

"Ooh, you're a unicorn!" The one dressed as a witch giggled.

"I am! Do you like unicorns?" Jamie smiled. The girl nodded. "Me too! And you know what, I also like witches! I think witches should get candy."

Jamie bent down and held out the cauldron to them. They each took their turn reaching in and grabbing a piece of candy, politely saying thank you as the turned to let the next kid take one. Jamie stood back up and looked up to the toddler.

"Hi there, would you like to take a piece too?" His voice pitched up and his face softened. "Is that alright?" He looked to the adult.

"Do you want to pick a piece of candy too, honey?" The adult asked the young one. The toddler nodded, a little too nervous to speak in the presence of strangers.

Jamie smiled and slowly approached, holding up the candy bowl to the toddler's level. They softly reached a tiny hand into the cauldron, pulling out a red lollipop.

"Ooh, that's a good choice!" You smiled to the little one.

"Happy Halloween, guys! Enjoy your candy!" You and Jamie waved as they turned and walked down to the sidewalk, on their way to the next house.

Closing the door, Jamie put the candy bowl on a small table by the entry way, ready for the next group of kids. You both turned to smile at each other.

"That little pumpkin baby, are you kidding me!" Your hands flew up to your chest over your heart. "You were so cute with them." You walked up and slinked your arms around him at his waist, pulling him in.

He smiled back and wrapped his arms around you too. "One day, we'll have our own little pumpkin baby to take trick or treating." He kissed your forehead.

You leaned back a bit. "Or baby deviled egg." You smirked.

Jamie threw his hands in the air and made his way back to the couch. "Nope. Absolutely not." He chuckled.

You skipped back to the couch after him giggling to yourself, and plunked down next to him, resuming your positions snuggled up together. The night went on as you were happily interrupted by the doorbell over and over, passing out candy to droves of kids. As the clock wound down to the later hours, it had been over 45 minutes since any trick or treaters came by. You were now lying across the couch, resting your head in Jamie's lap, his hand draped over your torso. You felt him lean forward a little, causing you to look up at him. He was peering into the candy cauldron. You sighed and let out a soft chuckle.

"I think it's safe now babe, go ahead." You lifted yourself off his lap to sit up, stretching lightly.

Jamie smiled and reached in, grabbing a couple miniature Hershey bars. You tipped the bowl towards you, taking stock of what was left, and grabbing a mini package of Starbursts for yourself as well.

"Happy Halloween." Jamie leaned over gently nudging you with his shoulder.

"Happy Halloween." You smiled, and nudged him back.

The End! it's short, I know. but hopefully you enjoyed. :)

[martianbugsbunny]

MartianBugsBunny Reviews: The Music of Wish

I'v been working on this for the past week or so and I have now seen the movie...eight times I think? Four on one Sunday and four on the next lmao

Let’s get the basics out of the way first! Overall, a lot of these songs were mediocre but probably would’ve been things I’d sing in the shower ad nauseam if it weren’t for one or two really horrible lines. That’s kind of the overall theme of the music from Wish, to be honest. I liked the music/tunes of most of these, though. I also noticed that the lyrics have this weird dichotomy of “let’s rhyme these things even if it doesn’t make sense” and “let’s just not care about the rhymes,” both of which were kind of off-putting to me.

I think the voices they got to sing this stuff were MEGA wasted. Ariana DeBose has the most heavenly voice; her higher register has a gorgeous sound. Chris Pine is better at singing than I would've expected. Both of them are good at those subtle shifts in pitch (I think it's called melisma? but don't quote me on that) that I can and will go nuts over. They deserved better material to work with. Now onto the specifics! I’m gonna rank each song out of ten (totally arbitrary lol) and ramble about why for a while. It's not too long, so if you have a little time on yours hands, read on and enjoy!

Welcome To Rosas 5/10 Not bad. It terms of tune, it has some decent flavor, but the lyrics are pretty forgettable. I think using a song to set up the concepts that they did was a good idea, like the first song in Encanto, but I just don't like it much. I think part of that is the informal tone??? like when Asha says "so like, we have this king" or "I'm totally kidding" or "oh hey, did I mention," that kinda gets on my nerves. and yes, I'm well aware that's a little hypocritical bc The Family Madrigal did some of the same things, but WTR isn't super strong to begin with so I instantly become more annoyed at the little details. Also, Asha's literally being a tour guide for the kingdom and that's not professional imo.

At All Costs …… I’m not scoring this one. I don’t know how to. I’m addicted to the chorus, that’s the first thing I’ll say; I watched Wish four times on the first day I watched it, and that was the first part I started singing along with. The harmonies get into my gut. But honestly, in terms of context, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. The lyrics sound like they should be directed at a person, not inanimate objects, which takes me out of the moment when I’m watching the movie. Some parts are a little clumsy, but if I’m viewing it as a love song it’s stunning, and DeBose and Pine's voices are heavenly together. I will say that subjectively, it's my favorite song in the soundtrack, I fell for it so hard and fast. <3

This Wish 7/10 In terms of Disney “I Want” songs this is at the bottom of the rankings, let’s be real. I like the sound of it, especially the non-syllabic vocalizations at the end of the chorus, but a lot of the lyrics just do not hit. Now, I will say that I saw a lot of people ragging on “to have something more for us than this,” and that’s actually one of my favorite parts of the song. It captures that feeling of longing for more without knowing exactly what that means or how to phrase it out loud so neatly. On the other hand, I definitely agree with the critiques of “throwing caution to every warning sign,” that’s one of my least favorite lyrics in the whole movie.

You’re A Star 6/10 Oddly, this one was less horrible than I expected. It delivered absolutely nothing, don’t get me wrong. It tried to tackle the idea of people and stars being made out of the same stuff and basically living as different notes in the same symphony and failed spectacularly. The big question “have you ever wondered why you look up at the sky for answers?” was one of my favorite lyrics in the entire soundtrack and there was NO payoff. (Plus, if I mixed up “elegant” and “eloquent” in a multi-million dollar movie I would never be able to look myself in the face again.) The entire second half of the song was pure lyrical garbage. But I like the tune and the animals are pretty cute, and despite being relatively hollow I found myself enjoying this one.

This Is The Thanks I Get 7/10 I’ve already said this but I’m gonna repeat myself: tonally this song was all wrong. 0/10 for that if I’m being perfectly honest. Something more along the lines of Hellfire or Be Prepared would’ve hit a lot harder—more sinister, more in line with the descent-into-madness thing that was occurring in the plot, would’ve improved this section of the soundtrack SO MUCH. With that complaint out of the way, the song we got was fine. Some of the lines were either poorly-written or repetitive, but as a whole I kind of enjoy it and would definitely dance around amateurishly in my room to it. It’s just too silly.

Knowing What We Know Now 1/10 This was my least favorite song in the entire movie. I just hate it. The lyrics are so sloppy.

This Wish (Reprise) 7/10 Honestly I think I liked this part better than the original song. Asha starting by herself and gradually being joined by her friends and the entire city was incredibly moving, and I might go so far as to say that this was the most powerful moment of the movie. I also enjoyed the twists on the original lyrics, particularly “we’re past dipping our toes in, we know it’s do or die, it’s sink or swim.” That part just felt really well done.

[butcherlarry]

I was tagged by @burins in a people I want to get to know tag meme! Thanks for the tag!

Last Song: I was actually listening to this in the car as I was coming home from work today, Sexkiller on the Loose by Carpenter Brut. I really like this whole album, Trilogy , and listen to it all the time when I'm traveling. It's nice thinkin' music for me, but I have to be careful because it's very easy to speed when listening to the upbeat songs.

The last podcast I listened to was the most recent Behind the Bastards episode, discussing Michael Lewis and the terrible book he wrote about Sam Bankman-Fried. I also completed a re-listen of BtB's six part series on what a bastard Henry Kissinger was, in honor of his death.

The last book I read was Axiom's End by Lindsay Ellis. I might have stayed up until 12:30 am finishing it, and was VERY TIRED when I went birding the next day. Reading this book finally pushed me to get a library card so I can read the next book, Truth of the Divine. I've been holding out on getting a library card for the last couple years because my life has been so hectic with multiple moves. I've finally settled down enough where I can get a library card, and this book was the push I needed to finally do it.

My favorite color: purple! I just really love that color. If you look in my closet, you'll see a lot of purple clothes :)

Currently Watching: What everyone else on the Internet is watching, Hbomerguy's Plagiarism video essay. I couldn't watch it all yesterday and have one more hour to go!

Last Movie: Barbie! I watched it with my two best friends over a discord chat. One of them hadn't been able to see it yet, so we watched it together. It was also lovely to catch up :)

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: Hmmmmmm. I'm a sucker for sweet things, but sometimes that gets to be a little too much for me. So sweet and savory or sweet and spicy are always favorite combos of mine.

Relationship status: Single. Not really looking for anyone either. I'm starting to suspect that I'm aro as well as ace.

Current obsessions: BIRDS. Omg, birds. I blame my cats for this, I got a bird feeder to hang outside a large window at my old apartment to entertain them. Well, it ended up entertaining me too. Now I have a nice camera, multiple bird field books, and I go to the local arboretum every Sunday to go birding. It's my "go out and touch literal grass" day. And it's so much fun to see the birds throughout the year, especially seeing which ones stay in the area and who migrates/come back. The dark-eyed juncos and white-throated sparrows are back and I'm SO HAPPY to see those little guys! I post my pictures on my bird tumblr or Bluesky, as well as the Batfam discord server I'm in :)

Last thing I googled: How to take the FUCKING knife guard off our back up meat slicer to clean it. I wanted both slicers going because we had 100 POUNDS (45+ kgs) of deli turkey to slice for my company's holiday party and it was dirty from the last time it was used. I have NO IDEA how the FUCK we got it off the first time. It should be simple! There is a long pin/bar you unscrew in the back! But it still wouldn't come off!! I think there is some kind of safety we're not triggering, but I have NO CLUE what it is. The manual it came with and the manufacturer's videos on YouTube were NO HELP. I blame the French (the slicer was made in France).

I'm tagging @ktkat99, @betta-male, @sunny-in-gotham, @halehathnofury, @froizetta, @superbattrash, @lizyarikus, @sisaloofafump, and anyone else who would like to join! No pressure though! :)

[threewaywithdelusion]

Chapter Two of my Stranger Things soulmate fic is out now!

~~~

After Starcourt, Robin became a constant presence in his life.

Steve had spent a vast majority of his childhood and teenage years with Tommy and Carol — lazy afternoons spent by the pool, sleepovers where they giggled as they snuck Carol into Tommy’s house after dark, hungover mornings at the diner where they guzzled coffee and gossiped about the last night’s events — so he thought he knew what it was to spend a lot of time with a person. Tommy and Carol had been his constant companions — the people he had inside jokes with and who kept their favorite foods in his fridge and who could tell what Steve was feeling better than he could himself.

Tommy and Carol had nothing on Steve’s friendship with Robin.

The two of them spent the rest of the summer together, at Steve’s house mostly since there was no parental supervision. They talked for hours and watched movies together and blasted music when the silence got too loud. Robin tried to cook a few times, but she was a disaster in the kitchen. Steve relegated her to sous-chef, chopping vegetables while he did the rest, but after she nearly chopped off her own fingers while gesturing with a very large knife in her hand, he told her to just sit on the counter and look pretty while he did all the work.

She had paused for a moment when he’d said that, a little almost unnoticeable hesitation, and Steve had frozen as well.

Because that sounded flirtatious, didn’t it?

He hadn’t been trying to flirt, but Steve seemed to have three modes: flirty teenager, bitchy jock, and annoyed mother. It was hard to know who to be around Robin. He tried to be the real Steve, but he didn’t always know who that was.

He slipped, sometimes, without meaning to. Because Robin was his soulmate and she was a pretty girl and some part of Steve felt hard-wired to flirt with both those categories of people.

But he saw how uncomfortable it made her.

It was the middle of August and Robin hadn’t mentioned liking girls since the mall bathroom.

Steve cleared his throat awkwardly, looking away.

Robin pushed herself onto the counter, apparently electing to ignore the uncomfortable undercurrent to his instructions.

By the time Steve finished cooking, they were back to their usual dynamics, Robin teasing him as he complained about the steam from the pot ruining his hair.

Sometimes, Steve and Robin hung out and didn’t even do anything together. With his concussion finally fading — it wasn’t all the way gone, but Steve was tired of avoiding everything in the world — Steve returned to the basketball court. He would take Lucas a few times a week, because Lucas was thinking of trying out for the team when school started again, and Robin would sit at the side of the court and read while Steve chased Lucas around, correcting his form and trying to pass on everything he knew.

“Are you sure you aren’t dating?” Dustin asked suspiciously as he climbed into the backseat of Steve’s car one day.

“Yes,” Steve and Robin said simultaneously.

Dustin scowled. “She’s literally always here these days. I can’t remember the last time I saw you without Robin.”

“Hey, be nice,” Steve said.

“I used to have shotgun privileges,” Dustin said huffily, crossing his arms. He must have exaggerated the gesture so it would catch Steve’s attention in the rearview mirror.

Soulmates get shotgun privileges. Steve almost said it, but he managed to catch the words just before they fell out of his mouth.

“She’s my best friend,” he said instead.

“I thought I was your best friend,” Dustin said. He sounded really, truly hurt and that was what made Steve take this conversation seriously. He might have gotten a C in English but he knew what subtext was — it was his parents’ favorite mode of communication.

This wasn’t about what seat Dustin got in the car.

“She’s my best friend who’s my age,” Steve amended. “But you’re right, that shouldn’t mean she gets automatic shotgun. Next time, dude, you get the front.”

He stopped bringing Robin to his hangouts with Dustin after that. Lucas didn’t seem to mind her presence at the basketball courts, so Steve kept taking Robin there, and of course he brought her to all the group hangouts, but he tried to find some balance and make sure the kids didn’t feel like they were being abandoned.

They had already lost enough.

The problem was that Steve felt like he couldn’t get enough of Robin. Even being practically glued to each others’ sides, they somehow never ran out of things to talk about.

They didn’t mention what she’d confessed at Starcourt. But Robin told Steve all about her dreams of traveling Europe. About her language tapes and her little genius ears. He heard about her parents and how they loved her, but never in the right ways. How her mom still put onions in every dish, even though Robin hated the texture.

“Is onion powder okay?” Steve asked.

“I don’t know,” Robin said. “Probably.”

So Steve made her dinner using onion powder and Robin said it was good and Steve stopped buying onions altogether. Also mushrooms, because Robin said they were slimy, and raspberries, because Robin thought they were hairy.

Theoretically, Steve could still buy the foods for himself, but Robin tended to eat two meals a day at his place and Steve wasn’t attached enough to any of them to keep buying them. Instead, he let Robin convert him to the wonders of her special trail mix — m&ms, popcorn, pretzels, and sour candy — and made sure her favorite drinks were stocked.

Sometimes he wondered if he shouldn’t do these things. If they were things he would only do for a girlfriend or a soulmate and he shouldn’t go so far for someone who was just a friend.

But it felt impossibly hard to distance himself from Robin. He always wanted her there. She made him laugh harder than anyone else and she indulged all his strange whims, like his soulmate obsession and his need to keep a bloody, nail-studded bat propped against his bedside table.

She didn’t judge him for anything. Steve never told her why he hated the pool, but she must have seen him shudder at it because she never asked to go in, even when it got ridiculously hot outside. She must have seen that Steve’s parents were never home and that Steve didn’t think it was as cool as he’d always told his high school friends, because she invited Steve to family dinners at her house where her parents asked polite questions about his life and laughed at his jokes and acted more like family than Steve’s parents ever had.

He’d accidentally heard Robin’s mom interrogating her after one of those dinners, asking if Steve was Robin’s boyfriend, and Robin stammering through an unconvincing explanation of why they weren’t compatible. He’d been certain he wouldn’t be invited back again. But Robin had stubbornly invited him back the next week, and the one after that, and kept doing it, even though it complicated things for her, because it made Steve happy.

Steve really, really loved her.

He was in love with her, yes. But he also just… loved her. Loved her carelessly and unconditionally, like a child who’d never been hurt before.

He wondered if this was how it felt to love a soulmate, but loving Nancy hadn’t been like this. Loving Nancy had been exhilarating and rewarding and fraught, like trying to cross a tightrope high in the air.

Loving Robin was comfortable. At least for Steve.

Robin must like him at least a little, to spend so much time around him. But she still hadn’t brought up liking girls again.

Steve felt so free around Robin. He didn’t hide his idiosyncratic behavior, or his fear of odd things like flickering lights and dogs, or the migraines that left him bedridden and crying.

Steve wished Robin felt that free around him.

Continue reading on AO3.

[kob131]

RWBY X Justice League: Superheroes and Huntsmen Part One Review (No Spoilers)

Dedicating this to @fallentitan98

So if I had to sum up the movie in a sentence, it would be-

“This should have been about 30-40 minutes longer.”

Summary:

So basic idea of the movie is ‘What if the Justice League found themselves in the world of RWBY as teenagers?’ This basic idea guides the whole movie, from the tone of the Justice League characters to how the movie is presented. 

Unforunately, both RWBY and ESPECIALLY DC are heavily dense properties with a bit of history at least behind them. So this causes some...issues.

Characters:

When it comes to a crossover event, judging characters is rather different since you have to judge them based on how they are portrayed in relation to their original counterparts. I will relate the DC characters to you but my focus will have to be on RWBY as that is my specialty here.

For DC, we have the likes of Superman/Clark, Wonder Woman/Diana, Batman/Bruce, The Flash/Barry, Green Lantern, Vixen and Cyborg. ... I grew up with the 2000′s JL cartoon, I just have the names of those four stuck in me okay?

With Vixen, Cyborg, Green Lantern and Diana- they seem consistent with the popular depiction of their characters. Cyborg is a bit sarcastic but well meaning; Vixen is frustrated by the situation but also confident and upbeat; Green Lantern is having issues which becomes an arc she gets and Diana is basically a warrior poet.

Barry is...off for reasons.

Clark has two lines in the movie that seem a bit too confident for him but that could be something that pops up in certain incarnations. Otherwise, he is the same Man of Steel as always- pure, wholesome, kind, responsible and having a grounded wisdom to him. To be truthful, Clark and his interactions with Ruby were my favorite parts of the movie.

And then we have Bruce. Bruce has an arc centered around a key aspect of the Batman character and how it can conflict with the core of who Bruce is as a hero- determined to save people. It can be considered massively missing the mark OR an exploration of Bruce’s character. It’s weird, much like the movie itself. But no, he is not a joke in the movie nor is he a generic brooding man. He is a calm, cool, smart and analytical man.

As for RWBY characters...things are off with them.

Yang, Blake and Jaune are perfectly fine. They’re relatively consistent to their Beacon characterization with Jaune lacking some of his patheticness, instead using his ability to support others both figuratively and literally which works because spoilers.

Ren and Nora have a...not-love triangle thing with Cyborg (this is not a spoiler, it does nothing) that feels like 95% of it was cut. Other than that, they’re consistent too.

And Ruby has an arc that involves Clark that makes sense for her character (especially if you watch Volume 9) but because the movie is like a skeleton- the meat of the arc is a bit lacking.

Gonna be honest- The RWBY cast feels the most off between them and the DC characters. Which makes sense when you consider the writer is from DC, not RT. Still, I would say it functions as intended. Just not very smoothly.

Animation:

The animation is actually pretty damn good. The fight scenes have good flow to them, a good sense of speed and momentum for the most part, interesting action. And the more casual animation works- faces emote and move properly, movements and gestures are effective in communicating the meaning behind the characters’ words.

This is one of the best showing for the CRWBY team yet.

Humor:

Almost entirely subjective. All I can say is it’s standard RWBY fair minus 2D anime cliches. Also no, this is not MCU humor. RT was doing this in RvB in 2004.

Plot, Pacing and Tone:

Okay, it is REALLY hard to talk about this without spoiling anything because good lord, is this movie densely packed.

Character interactions and plot progression are often mashed together with each other, which can often result in very awkward lines. Fortunately for DC fans, this is almost entirely on the RWBY end. Because much of the awkwardness comes from the writing needing to explain RWBY worldbuilding to the DC characters without having enough time for exposition. For example, Weiss outright calls Dust a ‘natural resource’, which while true has NEVER been how Weiss has talked about Dust in the past.

As for tone- it’s similar to Volumes 1 and 2. Some serious moments but general light hearted fun. Both DC and RWBY characters become the butt of jokes as well as moments to have more emotional and vulnerable instances. It’s not deathly serious like many DC properties nor does it have the same gravity as something like the 2000′s JL cartoons. But it’s not Teen Titans Go. It’s a mix of plot and humor.

Conclusion:

The whole movie feels...weird. I think this is what ‘rushed’ was originally supposed to mean. At 80 minutes, this is a rather short movie and it doesn’t really work. Humor and animation are fine because time doesn’t usually affect these. But the plot and especially the characters? There’s just not enough time to go through the proper steps. Things like the reveal of the villain or Ruby and Bruce’s arcs could work. They’re not exactly failures but they have been stripped of their meat. And the meat is what you taste in a movie, not the bones that make up the structure.

Bruce’s writing might set you off- it’s the biggest risk taken here. And the RWBY parts are a bit...off. So I can’t say this was fantastic or great. But it does give some good action, the character interactions between Ruby and Bruce, Yang, Blake and Diana; and Jaune and Green Lantern are great and the rest is given a real shot, just without the time to flourish.

All in all, an honest but stumbling effort of a movie.

[ectoplasmer]

two years. Where do I even start with this

I'm not going to try to act like these characters have been with me through some super hard part of my life within the past two years, because they haven't. I've had a normal life with nothing too big happening that completely disrupts me from my day-to-day experiences in the last few years. But I'm not going to let that fact invalidate all the smaller and tinier stresses and spirals they've helped me through. And believe me, I have a lot of those.

They have been there for the mornings when I'd wake up too early and be unable to fall back asleep, the afternoons I spent poring over essays I could've started days ago, the nights I spent stubbornly staying up much too late. They've been there for each silly overthinking session I had, for each nervous ache I got, each stumbled and rushed phrase I spoke. They've been there for when I would be nervous to walk into some crowded aisle in the store, when I would pace around the room because something had gotten me worked up, when I would get so many emotions over something and tear up over it. Every new habit, every new interest, every little victory and small loss... they've been there with me through it for the past two years. And I really don't know how to voice how new and different this is for me.

I don't usually hold onto interests for this long. I'll get into something and it'll occupy my mind for maybe eight months until something else grabs my attention and I move on to the next thing. Any past f/os I had wouldn't stick around this long. Sure, I'd still love the character, I'd still see them as my favorite character from their series, but they wouldn't move on with me to the next interest. And while I will admit that I have loved all of my f/os, current and past, very deeply, none of them seem to really compare to the love I have for my boys now. I remember being so nervous to get into something new because I was worried that I'd lose interest, that the feelings I have for them would be replaced with something that feels lesser and less fulfilling. It sounds silly when I type it out, but it was genuinely something I was afraid of. I didn't think I could ever love anyone the way I love them, and to an extent, I still feel this way.

But, geez, if they were to follow that usual formula, they are a whole 16 months late. And guess what? I have gotten into other things, picked up other shows, other books, and they are still here. I still love them, they still occupy my mind all too much, I still think about them. This silly series still has me in a choke hold after two years and I genuinely don't think it's going away for a while yet. I was literally smiling like an idiot over some cards that reminded me of them earlier, got happy over seeing a picture of one of them unprompted the other day... I'm still so in love with them and I truly hope that doesn't end any time soon <3

It feels so nice to be able to get into things with all of them. It's nice having someone to watch and read things with and getting to imagine how they'd react over things, what things we could discuss and joke over, what specific things would interest them more than others... A lot of our time when we first got together was spent watching movies because I was overly aware of the fact most of them probably didn't get to experience the life I did. They didn't get the chance to have the childhood I had, be it because of the fact they're not even from this century, or because of the circumstances of how they were brought up. I make an effort to try and include them in everything I do, consciously or not, because I want them to be able to have the chance to experience as many things as possible. I even think about them being there with me during classes, as silly as that sounds, so it's been extra fun being able to genuinely get into things with them beside me without worrying about losing them or whatever.

I'm sure I've been over this before, but I've never been this involved with my f/os before. Like I said, I genuinely did love all of my past ones, but that love feels so much more indirect than the love I have for my current f/os. I don't think I've ever referred to a character as my "boyfriend" or my "partner" as casually as I do for my boys. I don't remember using the term "love of my life" for anyone else as often as I do for my boys. I don't even remember being caught up thinking about how much I want to marry a character as much as I have for my boys. This all feels so much more serious for me because of that. So much newer and unknown and just... baffling? In a way? It feels like so much more than anything else from before. As cliche and silly as it might be, I genuinely think they are the loves of my life. I don't know where I'd even be without them. I don't know who or what else could possibly take up this much space in my life, in my brain, in my heart. I just... I love them so much. And I've gotten to do that for two full years. And that's so insane to me.

I've loved getting to go to sleep at the end of my day and getting to imagine them holding me and sharing my bed with me, I've loved getting to go through whatever routines I have and imagining them going through their own beside me, I've loved getting to sit while doing my own thing and imagining them there with me. I've loved getting to have them in my life, I've loved getting to be all giddy and happy over them, and I've loved getting to love them. One year was insane enough for me, but two years is just so much more. I think with every year it'll just be as baffling as the last for me. And I'm not saying this with the usual sense of "if we make it another year", because by this point I'm not putting anything past them. I think I probably will be here again next year writing a post at an ungodly time of night just like I am now. That won't stop me from being so blown away each time.

so here’s to two years of me and these dorks. I’m already excited to see where the next one will take us <3

[bonesstiel]

Hi!! i'm asking a bunch of people but do you have any destiel au best friend to lovers fic recs???? pleaseeeeee (no abo) thank youuuuu!!!! or just any destiel AU (no abo) if you don't have any best friend to lovers fics? thank you so much!!

you bet your ass i have au recs!! i love to put those guys in situations. i tend to read longer fics because im insane, so most of these are over 100k. i feel like i have more best friends to lovers fics that are hiding in my bookmarks, so this might get updated later

Friends to Lovers

More Than Kisses - epistolary, two-person love triangle where dean and cas have been friends since they were teens. my Ao3 notes: "the penpal one!! book nerds!!! baltimore!!!"

alone together - quarantine fic, dean and cas are roommates, now forced to be around each other 24/7. cas pines, thinking that dean is straight

Carry You Home - non-linearish baseball AU, starting when dean and cas are in college. also: secret relationship! my AO3 notes: "i don’t understand baseball but OH FUCK I LOVED THIS SO MUCH"

Starstruck - dean and cas were childhood best friends, and now cas is a single father to claire and jack and dean is a movie star. dean comes out, and in the process references a childhood crush that sounds a lot like cas.

Playing With Fire - best friends to fwb in a D/s relationship. part of a larger series with other ships and there's a threesome, so watch out for that if its not your cuppa.

General AUs

Breathe Easy For A While - country musician dean starts working with producer cas. technically friends to lovers, but more of a meet-cute.

Prince Of My Heart - 400k+ words of a royalty/the bachelor AU. my AO3 notes: "red tbis entire thing in less than 24 hours while sick <3," which i consider a rave review

FROTUS (wip) - it would not be a bonesstiel rec list if i didnt include this fic it scratches my little tww and rwrb loving political science major brain right. cas is the president of the US and dean is a restaurant owner in Kansas. if u read nothing else on this list read FROTUS

The Way to a Man's Heart is Through Chlamydia - exactly what it sys on the tin. after a one night stand, dean has to track cas down to let him know he has an STD.

Let Me Come Home - the author's summary says it best: "It would be very inconvenient for Castiel to get a crush on Claire's foster parent."

Any Little Heartbreak - fwb to partners hospital AU, so so good i literally have quotes from this on sticky notes on my wall

What I Need - i love hospital AUs and i think this is my favorite. cas is a surgeon and dean is the only surgery tech he's willing to work with.

I have a million more, so just ask if you want more of a certain trope!! in going through my bookmarks for this i have discovered that i apparently hoard bdsm aus, hospital aus, kid fics, and two person love triangle fics.

[addictedtostorytelling]

Hi! Been so long since I sent an ask. Hope you are doing well. I saw this list of questions and I want to know what's your headcanon on GSR and why. Always looking forward to your answers.

• Who's the cuddler?

• Who makes the bed?

• Who wakes up first?

• Who has the weird taste in music?

• Who is more protective?

• Who sings in the shower?

• Who cries during movies?

• Who spends the most while out shopping?

• Who kisses more roughly?

• Who is more dominant? ( in bed?)

• Rating of the ship from 1-10.

hi, @hiei29!

good to hear from you! i hope you’re well, too.

to the surprise of literally no one, my answers ran long. 

under the “keep reading” for those interested.

__

who's the cuddler?

they both are.

i mean, it’s canon.

considering how physically affectionate with each other they have always been even since long before they had any right to be, i’ve just gotta believe that once they’re actually able to be with each other in the way that they’ve always wanted and can express their feelings more directly through physical touch without having to censor and/or restrain themselves, they take every opportunity to do so.

i imagine that they watch movies curled up together on the couch, that in bed they spoon, that they constantly swoop in to give each other little hugs throughout the day, etc., etc.

they’ve been violating each other’s personal space since day #1—it’s part of their love language with each other—so i’m pretty convinced that once they’re married, they’re just all over each other as much as they can be.  

who makes the bed?

i think they make it together. 

no elaborate reason why—they just wake up together and go to sleep together, so it makes sense that they would, and especially since (at least when they’re living on land) it’s a big, ol’ king-sized mattress, so it’d be easier to get the fitted sheet and quilt on with two people than one.

and we know they do make their bed based on what we see in episodes 06x24 “way to go” and 07x22 “leapin’ lizards.”

who wakes up first?

i think they usually wake up together. 

i mean, after all, for years they work the same shift, so unless one of them gets called in early, they typically have to go to work at the same time, so it’d make sense to just set one alarm.

on some occasions, one of them might have trouble sleeping and get up before the other one does. but most days, i think it’s fairly simultaneous.

who has the weird taste in music?

i don’t think either one of them has a musical taste that is particularly “out there.”

grissom primarily listens to classical music and opera and also has broad familiarity with “the music of his childhood” (i.e., pop music from the 50s, 60s, and 70s). sara seems to be kind of a top-40 radio kinda gal whose preferences crystallized when she was young in the 70s, 80s, and 90s.

while of course classical and opera music aren’t everyone’s favorite genres and pop has its fair share of detractors, all of it is pretty standard. it’s not like either one of them is into super underground/indie/experimental stuff.

who is more protective?

they’re both incredibly protective of each other.

while we’ve had more opportunity in canon to see grissom be physically protective of sara (see episode 01x23 “the strip strangler,” for example) than she be physically protective of him, we have had the chance to see her be emotionally protective of him, both in the face of his own doubts and self-criticisms (see episode 02x05 “scuba doobie-doo”) and others who would try to disparage his character (see reboot episode 01x04 “long pig,” when she defends his reputation to nora cross).

time and time again, the show has proven that these two will go to the mat for each other’s sakes—they just tend to go about doing so somewhat differently, based on differing emotional needs. 

due to sara’s traumatic history, she needs grissom to make her feel safe, both physically and emotionally. due to grissom’s poor self-esteem, he needs sara to buoy him up and champion him. 

his protection of her manifests more in the form of “i’m going to be a shield for you. i won’t let anything hurt you.” hers for him manifests more as “i’m going to be your life vest. i’ll keep your head above water when the swimming gets tough.” they each meet each other’s emotional needs in this way.

who sings in the shower?

it’s canon that sara sings to herself (see episode 01x16 “too tough to die”), so i tend to think it’s probably her. 

side note: whatever you do, don’t think about the fact that sara probably originally developed a habit of singing to herself out of loneliness—as a way to fill the silence of living by herself and having no one to talk to when she wasn’t on the job.   

while grissom sings to sara sometimes—and god love that he does—i don’t imagine he sings much without her as his audience, whereas she probably sings just whenever the mood strikes her. (as she tells nick, it’s a subconscious habit, and half the time, she doesn’t even realize that she’s doing it.)  

side note: whatever you do, do think about how grissom probably loves few things more than walking by the bathroom and catching a snatch of sara’s voice mingling with the sound of the running water as she croons out some 90s song he’s never heard before but suddenly finds himself inordinately fond of.

who cries during movies?

the girl who feels sympathy for the monster in the monster movies, anyone?

i mean, sara is just a crier kinda in general. she’s quick to tears when she’s angry, when she’s sad, when she’s scared, when she’s happy, and basically any time she experiences strong emotion of any kind—she just has a reactive temperament, you know? very much wears her heart on her sleeve—so it’d make sense that she’d cry over movies, too.

thankfully, grissom is always there to wipe her tears and kiss her head and make some purposefully horrific pun in order to get her laughing afterward.       

who spends the most while out shopping?

prior to getting together with grissom, sara had been poor for her entire life—as the child of mentally-ill, alcoholic hospitality workers who ran their own business out of their home, she likely spent the first few years of her life living around or below the poverty line, a situation which wasn’t improved upon once she entered the notoriously underfunded us foster care system; then, she got out of the foster system at age sixteen with literally just the clothes on her back and maybe a few personal items to her name and had to spend most of her formative years scrimping and saving to “climb out of the hole,” first while going to college and graduate school full-time and then while working what is (as the canon of the early seasons often reminds us) a relatively low-paying job while still not yet fully credentialed*—so i tend to think she is pretty frugal.

* remember, baby girl didn’t become a csi level iii until sometime after she moved to vegas, so she didn’t get the raise nick and warrick talk about in the pilot until at least 2000/2001; she was still getting a more entry-level salary prior to that point.

she’s probably spent her whole life budgeting and thrifting and just generally trying to make her money stretch as far as possible, using what little “extra” she may make to pay off loans and make “rainy day” purchases when needed.

that so, i just can’t imagine she’s ever very comfortable making big purchases, even once she does move into a higher income bracket, just because it’s so ingrained in her to save, save, save.

meanwhile, while i don’t think grissom is by any means a big spender himself and certainly is not someone who throws his money around carelessly AT ALL*, i do think that since (at least in adulthood) he is fairly financially comfortable, to the point where he is accustomed to having disposable income, he is disposed to spend a little bit more for the sake of quality. 

* though he admits to having spent money somewhat more recklessly in college, purchasing cadavers and fetal pigs for the sake of his experiments, i think he’s grown out of that habit as he’s matured, particularly now that he can get access to much of the scientific equipment that he needs through the lab. 

though not an everyday thing, he will “put in the extra penny” for big-ticket items like furniture, cars, appliances, etc.* in order to make sure that what he’s getting lasts, and when he does, i don’t think he feels bad about it whatsoever.

* for example, we know that at one point he drove a mercedes (see episode 02x21 “anatomy of a lye”), and the furniture in his apartment is all high-end leather.

conversely, sara, who, even though she has moved up the economic ladder both by virtue of advancing her career and marrying someone more financially solvent than herself*, is still always kind of that poor girl at heart, probably has trouble justifying purchases with too many zeroes on the price tag, even if doing so will be “an investment in quality.”

* of course, we don’t know if grissom and sara ever do combine their bank accounts.

while i don’t think it’s something they necessarily fight about, i do think there are times when they’ll be considering a big purchase and grissom will have to present a fairly compelling argument to sara as to why it’s actually worthwhile for them to buy new rather than used or name brand rather than generic.

though in time, i think she does start to see the logic of buying something nicer (but pricier) that lasts longer—the whole “sam vimes boots theory”—and especially because they do actually have the means to do so, and so becomes easier to persuade in this regard, i also imagine that that old “save, don’t spend” instinct never fully goes away for her.

so even if in practice neither one of them is actually too much of a spendthrift, grissom is the one who is more mentally disposed toward spending, whereas sara is pretty resistant to it.

who kisses more roughly?

they’re not rough with each other physically, like, at all.

passionate at times, yes, but given sara’s family history, i don’t think either one of them is really comfortable introducing any kind of aggression/pain into their intimate behaviors, including kissing. 

grissom would rather die than hurt or scare sara in any way, and sara’s whole mo with grissom is just to be so soft and gentle with him. 

so to my mind, it’s just not in their lexicon of physical touch to be bruising or hard or rough with each other. 

i mean, we can see in canon that even with their big parting and reunion kisses, while they may be intense/desperate/pleading/emotional, they’re not cracking teeth or drawing blood or blurring lines between aggression and affection.

as i talk about here,  

one only need look at how grissom expresses love for sara outside of bedroom [or in this case, kissing] contexts in order to get a feel for what love is to him: this is a man who speaks to his wife using all manner of tender endearments, who is incredibly protective of her, who wants her to feel safe with him, who strives to place her needs ahead of his own, who delights in nothing more than making her smile, who treats her with respect, and who is just generally so incredibly soft with her on the whole that it seems incredibly unlikely that he would ever be comfortable with (let alone actively interested in) introducing any kind of harshness or degradation or violence even of a controlled variety into their sex life [or kisses]—and especially not because he knows that sara grew up in a home where intimate partner violence was a norm and that she is therefore incredibly averse to unequal power dynamics, as well as to aggressive sexual behaviors, between romantic partners.

what he wants is to care for her and make her feel good, showing her how much he loves her through his attention to her needs.

that's what gets him going.

that's the whole point of sex [and showing any kind of physical affection to her], as far as he's concerned.

—which is also where sara's at, as well...

like grissom, she wants their sex life [and kissing] to be about connection and expressing love to each other and building each other up.

again, one need only look at how she treats grissom outside of bedroom [and kissing] situations to see what love is to her: she is gentle with him and his feelings, she tries to bolster him and encourage him to feel good about himself, she is consistently soft in how she touches him, she loves making him smile, she's defensive of him to others, and she is open about showing him just how much she delights in the things that he does, always wanting him to know just how happy he makes her.

so the way i see things, while they’ve had plenty of electrifying kisses over the course of their relationship, “rough” isn’t a descriptor that would generally apply to them.

for them, passion translates to something that is intense but still gentle. 

who is more dominant in bed?

like my answer above, i don’t think “dominant” is a word that really applies with them once they get together, either sexually or otherwise.

theirs is a very equal partnership, and neither one of them is necessarily “more powerful” than the other.

to quote again from the post just linked in the last answer,

while grissom does find bdsm fascinating from an anthropological perspective—just like he finds all aspects of human sexuality (including furry culture, swinging, staging elaborate fantasy scenes, various fetishes, etc.) fascinating—i don't think he gets off on the idea of manipulating sexual power dynamics or on inflicting or receiving pain as part of sex himself...

[likewise,] due to her family history, i just can't see sara ever being all right with the idea of deliberately introducing power imbalances into what she and grissom do in the bedroom, either, nor with enacting any kind of violence while they're in the act. she gets really freaked out by male aggression—just see how triggered she is in episode 01x10 "sex, lies, & larvae"—and doesn't find domineering behavior attractive in the least. seeing the way her dad treated her mom, there's just nothing sexy about one partner controlling another in her mind...

not only would she never herself want to be dominated, but she'd also never for her part want to dominate grissom—not when she knows how he struggles with his self-esteem and how much he wants to please her; not when he's so precious with and sweet to her. she has no desire for them to humiliate or harm each other, even within boundaries.

while i do believe that, due to the fact that (as i headcanon things) grissom is demisexual and sara is allosexual, and she is somewhat more sexually confident than he is, particularly at the start of their sexual relationship, she is often the “initiator” of their sexual encounters, i also don’t believe that’s always necessarily the case.

grissom definitely gets ideas all on his own and starts things going frequently.

i also think that when they’re together, it’s not situation where one of them is the “top” or “bottom” all the time or where one is more enthusiastic and/or adventuresome and/or intrepid than the other. they both enjoy their sex life a lot and probably alternate the roles and actions they take depending on circumstances, mood, etc.

i’m sure there are times when sara comes onto grissom very strongly, saying something provocative as she takes him by the hand to pull him away from whatever project he’s working on, guiding him down so she can straddle him on the couch, just like i am sure there are times when grissom looks at sara from across the room and all of a sudden is all silent, steely determination, coming over to her and kissing her all the way into the bedroom, peeling her clothes off of her as they go.  

there’s passion there. there’s thrill. there’s energy.

but it’s not about domination.

it’s not about one of them being “the boss.”

they’re much more comfortable being on equal ground, both of them being completely willing to both lead and follow where the other one goes.

rating of the ship from 1-10.

i’m bad at math.

100000000.

[knickynoo]

hello, and happy back to the future day! :D

if you'd like to talk about it, i'd be curious to know what bttf means to you/why you love it (if you haven't had a similar ask before, of course)!

Happy BTTF day! (I somehow managed to forget that was today until I saw the posts going around).

I don't think I've ever gotten an ask like this before. It's a good one!

Back to the Future is my all time favorite movie. (Duh.) I was introduced to it by my mother when I was around 10, and it had. A GRIP on me. So much so, that I sometimes have wondered if my mom ever regretted exposing me to it. But I'd just never seen a movie like that before. It was one of my first "grown-up" movies, and I remember thinking I was so cool for knowing about it. I'm sure a lot of the themes and details of it flew over my head, but there was also a lot that I really loved about it. The adventure, the suspense, the music, etc. I had a massive crush on Michael J. Fox, which might have also been a big reason why those movies were on repeat so often when I was a kid. I still have my childhood diaries where I wrote about him in the way only a 10 year old girl with a big crush could. My mom lovingly tolerated this phase, going so far as to get me a special autographed photo of him that hung on the wall of our family room for many years. (It's now in my room with my other collectibles)

I think I've mentioned this before, but one of my best friends at the time was ALSO going through his BTTF phase, so we ultimately only served to fuel each other's interest in it. We used to sit together on my front steps and listen to the soundtrack and talk about the movies. It was great. Just two kids, being geeks.

Eventually, I kind of moved on from the movies, and there was actually a long stretch of time where I didn't watch them for years. I got back into them during those initial few months after Covid hit and there were the strict lockdowns. Being home so much, I was watching a lot of TV, caught the first movie, and went oh. OH. Now I remember why I loved these movies. It wasn't long before I decided to make a tumblr to get all of my thoughts out of my head.

A lot of my reasons for liking the films now are the same as when I was little, but I can really appreciate the heart of them now. And I think that's what I like most about the trilogy. The heart, the love, the message that you can do good and help others and love the people in your life to the point of being willing to sacrifice yourself for them.

And the movies have an extra special connection for me because my best friend and I literally have the Doc/Marty dynamic. She's several decades older than me, has mentored me for years, considers me part of her family, is delightfully eccentric, and has a pet named after a scientist. This is--surprisingly--something I hadn't consciously thought about/realized until a few months back when pondering why I felt so strongly about Doc and Marty's friendship. But it's part of why I talk about them a lot I think, and why I consider intergenerational friendships to be a beneficial thing. I know what it's like to have a Doc in my life. I've got that wise, older friend I can go to for advice and just walk through the front door of her house because I've got the key. As far as I know, she isn't currently working on any time travel experiments, but if she called me up and told me to meet her at the mall parking lot, I'd be like, "Sure, I'm down." So like. I get it.

Anyway, this has been a long enough reply. But I think it explains how I ended up here, running a BTTF blog. Thanks for the ask!