#martie thinks about things | musings

[gretavanlace]

Valtava

Josh Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, unprotected sex, pain during sex (this is handled gently and lovingly) language, dirty talk, etc.

Everyone thank our dear @jake-kiszkas-smirk for the scene where his head is resting on her stomach. I’ll say no more to avoid spoiling it, but it’s delicious and it was her idea that she so kindly left in my hands. Thank you, you filthy genius, you. I love you madly. Also, I no longer remember who to credit for this pic of Josh, it’s been in my camera roll so long. But I couldn’t not use it for this…that’s dangerously close to sacrilege.

“This scene right here,” Josh speaks over Ray Liotta’s musings, one arm stretched across the back of his couch, the other bent to stroke his thumb along your jawline, absently “This is where Scorsese really stretches his wings. Here we are, watching the heinous discovery of murder after murder while Layla, a song about love and lust, lulls us. We feel both safe and shaky.”

His fingers now wind through your hair, relaxed and warm, with your head in his lap. “I think it serves as a reminder that even ugly can dip its toe into the waters of beautiful, if you squint hard enough.”

He pauses and talks over his own stream of thoughts, “Well, most ugly things, anyway. Someone saw these murders as a necessary evil. Something to ensure the world they had built for themselves, for their families, stayed clean. Someone went home and slept a little easier knowing there was one less heart beating out there ready to turn state's witness on them.”

You nod and hope for him to keep going. The way his mind works fascinates you, as does the unique lilt of his tone, and the excitement that sharpens his gaze when he is ruminating on something that really spins the wheel for the hamster in his brain.

Catering to your unspoken wish, he carries on, “And maybe even the victims were in on the method to the madness, y’know? They chose the life they chose, they understood how quickly loyalty and love can shape- shift into survival and self preservation. Layla helps the audience understand. It marries the beauty and the bloodshed for the people in the seats.” he shakes his head in wonder. “It’s fucking genius.”

“Thought your brother was the big Marty fan?” You ask, studying the perfect cupid's bow of his lips from below.

“Jake?” His eyes are on the screen, but his focus is on you. “Tarantino. I dig the use of his nickname, though. Marty. It makes it seem as if you have him over for dinner regularly.”

“Maybe I do.” You tease.

You earn a smile, but still not his gaze. “And what do you serve?”

Adopting a tone of nonchalance, you shrug, “Usually, we make love until dawn and then share cold spaghettiOs right out of the can.”

“Ah,” He nods seriously, “the opulence. It’s all very grand.”

A comfortable silence wraps itself around you both until you have a thought that pokes to be shared.

“Do you suppose Scorsese might have chosen Layla because of the double-edged sword it also happens to be as a piece? Since Clapton wrote it about his best friend's wife?” You feel a blush heat your cheeks, and immediately wish you hadn’t contributed. He knows so much about film and you know so little.

True to Joshua-form, however, he hushes your unease effortlessly. “Shit! I’d never even considered that. The beauty for Clapton was the ugly for Harrison. God, I’m so in love with the way your mind sees everything that’s invisible to mine.”

I’m so in love with…

He means the ideas in your head, the quiet corners of your thoughts, but it quickens your heart and nudges the butterflies in your stomach to life, nonetheless.

So, you pull yourself up, a thigh nestled on either side of his waist in the blink of a breath.

“Hi.” You long for the timid smile dancing shyly on your lips to morph into something sultry. Something sexy. Something that might flicker the darkened flame, that hides down deep in his belly, to life.”

“Hi.” He grins back, allowing you to wiggle around until you’re comfy in his lap. “If Goodfellas is boring you, I stand zero chance of keeping you entertained, baby love.”

Your fingers worry over the beads looped around his neck and then twist into the soft pink linen of his shirt, finally coming to rest at the button fastened nearest to his throat. Your eyes travel over him, hungry to soak him in. To tuck this image of Josh, so quietly content with you perched above him, away in your heart…a pretty picture to revisit when he inevitably becomes a memory.

What is he thinking? That question seems to occupy your mind more often than any other. He is an enigma. A mystery parading as wide open sunshine.

Intrusive thoughts, cruel and unrelenting, silently bully you. You’ve become quite adept at ignoring them over the years, opting for at least some semblance of normalcy in your quest for a happy, healthy life. Whatever that means.

But these thoughts in particular are cloaked in far too much truth…too many signs pointing to the worst being the obvious…to be easily disregarded.

You want to say these things to him. If only to bask in the assurance you might catch in his reply. But to risk the absence of said reassurance, is a feat too great.

Instead, you begin a tentative roll of your hips as you lean in close to meet his pillowy lips with your own. He tastes of mint, and the IPA he has been nursing, and Josh.

Like always, he indulges the kiss, but stills your hips, and you long to vanish into thin air, leaving nothing more than a coiling wisp of smoke in your wake. The rejection comes with a throbbing ache in your chest. Is your heart truly breaking? Now you’ll be forced to offer it to him in pieces.

And he isn’t the only one to indulge in old habits, because, also like always, you crawl into the safe embrace of humor. “You’re right, Joshua…you’re boring me. Back to the brilliant mind of Marty, my beloved.”

You slide off of him and stretch back out on the couch, focusing on the screen to hide your tear glossed eyes as he gets comfortable behind you.

“Scorsese, you bastard,” he shakes his fist in mock indignation, “how dare you steal the affections of my woman?”

A forced laugh comes out sounding a little too close to a sob. You play it off as best you can. Nothin’ to see here.

Alas, he catches it. And, of course, he won’t leave it alone, though you certainly ask him too.

“What is it, baby? What’s wrong?” He turns you toward him, hovering over you as you lie on your back and long to melt away. “Talk to me.”

“I just— I mean,” death seems of great comfort. “Is it me? Do you not… are you not… am I not pretty enough? Or sexy enough? Or… I don’t know,”

A frown of deep concern furrows his brow as his palms move to cup your face, “What? Are you not…Jesus, baby, of course you are. Fuck, if anything you’re too much. Too pretty, too sweet, too smart, too sexy.”

Your words come quiet and small, quivering with painful vulnerability “Then why?” You close your eyes, and thankfully, he allows you to hide this way.

Exactly what you knew would happen, happens. He lies without lying. “Why, what?” He sounds of feigned confusion. He knows what you mean.

Throat now constricted and pulsing with a wringing pain, you close your eyes tighter, unwilling to bear witness to whatever lie will follow his last. “Why don’t you want me?”

A tear breaches the dam you had hoped was impenetrable. You loathe and curse it.

“Hey, shhh…don’t do that. Don’t cry.” He brushes the tear away and then kisses over the path it took.

“Don’t cry?” You snap. A twinge of regret flares to life within you. You’ve never spoken to him unkindly, and could it be that there’s no going back? Perhaps this is it; the end of the road you’ve been heading inevitably for.

To your great surprise, he laughs. You crack an eyelid open to find it sincere. “So, she’s capable of something other than sugar, spice, and everything nice, after all.”

His hand smooths down your chest - can he feel the violent rattle of your heart as it thrums and beats out of control?

When at last he speaks, there is an edge to his tone you’ve never heard before. It warms you clear through to your curling toes “You think I don’t want you?”

You shrug, all pink cheeks and complete ineloquence.

“Well,” he soothes, drawing gentle patterns upon your temple and forehead, “you should know, that is far from the case.”

But, rather than take the moment further, as he so easily could, as you so desperately want him to, he sinks into an innocent position - resting his cheek on your stomach as you struggle to keep it from rising and falling too rapidly, his eyes, once more, on the screen.

The film drones on; mafia murders and cocaine swirling down flushed toilets. Betrayal and 20/20 hindsight…

…and on you watch, on the surface - in reality, you can think of nothing else other than the weight of his head on your stomach.

There is a dull ache there, inside you, gripping at every nerve ending all at once. He knows what you want, and he very obviously doesn’t want the same thing. He doesn’t want you.

He speaks first, and there’s too much truth in it. He knows you too well. “I need you to stop that.”

“Stop what?” You stupidly offer a tiny shrug, but for what? He isn’t even looking at you.

“Your walls, I can feel you stacking bricks. Stop, or I’ll take a wrecking ball to them.” he pets over your forearm comfortingly. It doesn’t help.

“Alright, Miley,” you toss the joke out like a life preserver for yourself. “Just don’t start licking sledgehammers and we’ll be alright.”

He gives you the softest laugh. It more closely resembles a sigh, “Is it only sledgehammers that you are opposed to me licking?”

Oh.

When he coolly pushes your shirt up and begins dragging his lips, licked slick and warm, around your belly button, you think you might burst into tiny, burning, longing, pieces. God, how you want him.

“You like that, baby love?” He speaks the words melodically into the room like a lullaby, hushed as a priest absolving you of your sins in a darkened confessional.

A whiny hum is all you seem capable of, but it doesn’t look like it matters much to him.

“Yeah?” He’s teasing now, and you think it might kill you. Your hips begin a barely perceptible rock in response. “Can I touch you, sweetheart? Do you want that?”

“Josh, please,” his name is less than a whisper. It’s a plea gasped into the dark, dancing with the flickering glow of the tv as it blinks and changes like lightning.

The warmth of his hand between them causes your thighs to twitch and tremble, but he hovers just above making actual contact. “God, look at you. How could you ever doubt how much I want you? So pretty. Can I touch you here, baby? My pretty, pretty girl.”

With a soft moan, you lift your hips, pressing into his palm. He doesn’t push for words, your body has given him all the consent he needs, and the want in your eyes reiterates.

His mouth is wandering your soft, flushed, stomach as he slides your pants away, gentle and sure, the tip of his tongue bridging the distance between his kisses.

Your hands weave down into his wild curls, comforted by the way they wrap themselves into your touch, spiraling around your fingers as you tug at them and tenderly scratch over his scalp. A particularly sweet drag brings a shiver to life on his shoulders. He groans in appreciation and runs away with another piece of your heart.

“Oh, fuck,” you murmur, surprised and grateful, when at last, he sinks a single finger into your warmth.

Should you at least have the decency to feel shy about the sound it makes? About the way you must be soaking his skin? Perhaps. But you don’t, and judging by the curse he secrets into the still of the night, there isn’t any reason to.

“Does that feel good?” He isn’t taunting you, it’s a genuine question, but there is a hint of a teasing tone there as well, peeking out from around the edges of his words and you think it might just be the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard.

“So good.” You’re whining and writhing beneath him, tiny pouty huffs of breath tumbling off your lips over and over…but you don’t care about that either.

His finger slips out and you mourn it pitifully, until it swirls around your swollen clit, tearing a shaking cry out of your chest. And then, there it is again, filling you as his thumb begins a slick trail of tight circles just right.

“You want more?” Oh god…the way he sounds, the way you feel. He’s setting you further and further on fire with his gentle, decadent, prodding. With his breathy, gingerly obscene questions. Flames - scorching and crackling - lick up inside you. Incinerating as they consume.

“More?” He asks again, rasping the word, wantonly urging you on.

“Yes!” You nod frantically, spreading your legs further. You want him, need him, so badly…coveting the very breath in his lungs for its privilege of being inside him in a way you’ll never know. You long to trickle down into his pores and vanish.

A second finger - they feel longer than they have ever looked - joins the first and then begins a perfect, guiding, curl.

Tucking into that perfect place inside you, he fucks the pads of his fingers against it ever so carefully. Gently spinning your head in every direction.

He rests against your belly as the muscles inside churn and flex beneath his ear, watching intently as his hand fucks away at you. He wonders what it might be like to stretch you to almost breaking. How it would feel to push another finger inside, and then another, and another. When would you tell him to stop? Three? Four? Could you take that burning stretch? Would you relish it and ask for more? Fuck, he hopes so.

But you feel so tight around him…just two fingers full and you’re squeezing like you’ll never let go. He worries, and the pounding pulse of neglect that aches rhythmically in his cock, reminds him that he worries rightly so.

He has always believed you to be the most beautiful thing his eyes have ever had the pleasure of landing upon, but he’s never seen you like this - spread open, soaked and puffy with want. With need…for him. It doesn’t seem possible.

The way you move…fluidly, like ripples chasing over the surface of a placid lake, urging him along with your body. Your gorgeous cunt sucking his fingers in. A goddess, a beckoning siren, an angel…he can’t look away.

Can’t until he hears it, until he feels it, how close you are. Wild, frothing, horses couldn’t keep him from the gift of watching your face as you fall apart. An army of men wouldn’t stand a chance. He wants this moment with you, and he will have it. He wants to make you cum, and he wants to watch your eyes go blurry with it, and so watch he will.

“C’mon, baby…” he goes breathless when his face tilts up to meet yours. You are flushed and panting, lips parted. The soft pink of your tongue just barely visible, blushing like saltwater taffy in your mouth and he wants to lick against it, wants to taste you.

The smallest blips of a sound he can’t describe chase each other out of that beautiful mouth he wants to kiss so badly. Tiny uh’s that shift into gasps of desperation. You’re right there, and he wants it more than you do.

With his bottom lip caught between his teeth, he eases his chin into the softness just below your navel, creating a delicious pressure, and crooks his finger so perfectly, pressing and stroking until it feels like you’re floating and the only thing holding you in place is him.

It is celestial. He is every constellation and you are the astronomer, feet held to the ground by gravity, eye pressed against a telescopic lens hopefully, frantic for a glimpse of his wonder.

There is only Josh.

“Almost there, pretty girl,” he nods, gaze glossed with lust and something that looks like love. “You gonna give it to me?”

You are. You’re going to give it to him. You couldn’t stop it now if you tried. Fluttering walls trap him inside you as his stare fixes, unmoving and heated, with yours.

“That’s it, baby love, that’s it.” He urges you on, leads you deeper and deeper, those long, warm, perfect, fingers working you like he’s been there a thousand times before. “Shh, you’re alright. I’m right here, just breathe for me.”

That’s all it takes for you to realize your lungs are burning for a breath you’ve been unknowingly denying them - and with that hissing, hungry, gasp for air, you explode under him.

He watches, mezmorized, as your eyes roll back, teeth clenched like some ethereal, feral creature. It bursts out of you, clear and shimmering, like liquid diamonds, but you don’t know it yet, he can tell…you’re too far gone, and he fucking loves it. He fucking loves you.

He has said it aloud. I love you, sweetheart. I love you so much. I love you.

But that’s the thing that he doesn’t know yet because he’s also too far gone.

You’re quiet, gentle. Sweet, whining whimpers floating out of you as you vibrate and spill.

On your end, you hear the confession of how deeply his feelings run, but you don’t register…it will settle in later and you’ll weep for not saying it back. Though you don’t need to, he knows.

Once you’ve settled, he pushes up until you are eye to eye, lapping your release off his fingers. You’re sweet enough to lick off a whisk like cake batter, and he tells you so…but you can focus on nothing but the shining glint of you that he wears so well.

Shocked by the sheer amount, you blush hard and hot. Burning brighter still when it drips from his hand and lands on your lip. In an act you don’t seem aware of, you lick it away like a raindrop. The very sight of it, the somehow still innocent depravity, weakens him until he is forced to swallow a whine.

“Had I known what I was missing,” he grins lazily, “I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself.”

The confusion sends you crashing back to reality.

“But why stop yourself at all?” Your eyes are so wide and clear. It makes him want to gather you up and keep you safe.

Once more, it crosses his mind that you’re an angel. He wonders where your wings have gone.

“Because, I—“ he falters, shaking his head as if he might rattle his thoughts into place. Finally, he opts to show, not tell, pressing his hips against yours so you can feel him.

And feel him, you do, but only for a moment. He’s so hard you’re cozy from the heat of it through the sweats he was lounging in when you arrived.

You’ve noticed. Of course you have. You’ve stolen a glance or two when he wasn’t looking. How could you not? You’d just always thought, and not to be crass, you’d always just assumed he was a shower, rather than a grower.

Now you aren’t so certain. He felt massive during the short amount of time he was rocking into you.

“You’re thinking very hard, baby love.” He smiles down at you. “Are those thoughts in my favor, or…?”

He trails off and awaits your answer with that Josh-like patience. Rather than speaking, you curl your hands around the waistband of his pants and then cast your eyes up, in silent question.

Nodding the go ahead, he continues watching you closely…studying your reaction as you tug him free.

“Oh, fuck,” the expletive sighs out of you as the tip of his cock - leaking, angry and swollen - slaps up, well above his belly button, with a solid thump.

He’s big. So big. Long and thick, beautifully shaped. Blushing pink at the head, and visibly pulsing under your awestruck scrutiny. You absently wonder how he isn’t light-headed for the amount of blood it must require to bring him to such full attention.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.” He explains softly, finally letting you in on the secret of why he’s been so skittish, “And I didn’t want to…”

His confession loses traction as he watches your mouth rather than meeting your gaze.

Your palms reach for him, cupping his angelic face with as much gentleness as the renewed desire racing through your veins will allow. “You didn’t want to what?”

While he searches for the words, you curl your thighs around him and pull him in, moaning out his name like a mantra when you feel him against you, skin to skin.

“God damn, baby…” he rocks his hips closer to yours and then remembers what he’s doing. “I didn’t want to scare you. And I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Yeah, you said that.” You tease, trying to lighten the heavy load of his anxiety.

“I know.” His mouth meets yours, searching out a slow, needful kiss. “But I kept imagining hurting you, and you being too sweet to say so. I’m still imagining it.”

Your tongue licks into his mouth as you wrap your fist around him. “Look at you, Josh,” you smile shyly through a kiss that is anything but shy. “My fingers don’t even touch.”

“Grew up under some power lines.” He teases, relaxing as he pecks along your jaw.

“I want you inside me.” You sound despondent, and feel just as forlorn, the look in his eye warns you may have a fight on your hands.

“Pretty girl,” he tucks himself away and begins kissing a slow, serpentine trail down your body after he flutters your shirt, indicating he wants it off. “I could barely get two fingers in your sweet little pussy. Why don’t you just let me kiss it? Don’t you want to cum on my tongue, hmm? Won’t that feel nice?”

Such filth is a captivating development, and one you like very much…but, you stop him all the same. Grabbing him by the hair with enough force to tilt his head back, pulling his mouth away from your straining nipple, you issue a demand you intend to make sure he fulfills, “I said, inside, Joshua.”

He raises an eyebrow and suppresses a grin of dirty glee. “Joshua?”

Ignoring him, you watch as he licks the pad of his thumb and then arch away from the cushion when he begins a steady, swirling journey over your clit with it. “Gonna make you cum first, love. Again and again. I’m gonna baby this gorgeous cunt until my name is the only word you want in your mouth…and then I want you to fill my mouth.”

“Jesus, Josh…” you’ve never wanted anything more, but you can hardly force the words out to convey just how fucking agreeable you are.

“You want that?” He flicks over you faster and faster, indulging in your pouty, needy cries, praying they never end. “You want to cum in my mouth? Feed me something sweet?”

~

“Easy, baby love,” he coos, whispering to you like you’re a tiny, broken bird, fallen from the nest and afraid. “You’ve got to relax a little more for me.”

“Yeah…” you nod, staring up at him as if he painted your entire world into existence. And maybe he did.

No longer able to count the number of orgasms he’s gifted you with, you feel like liquid silk. Or clay in his palm, happy to be molded to his liking.

“Yeah?” He drops a kiss onto your forehead and pushes in just a hint further, eyes darting up when you hiss with discomfort.

You offer a smile for him to continue and he returns it gently, but the way he’s fighting for breath betrays him. He wants you badly, he’s going slowly mad with the need to bury into your body to the hilt.

His fingertips skate a ticklish trail down the curve of your waist and then grip into your thigh, spreading you open a bit wider.

Both bare now completely to each other for the first time, you’ve given yourself over right there on the couch. The room is silent, save for hushed words and choked breaths twisting languidly through the air, the movie long since over.

He’d wanted to carry you off to the bedroom, but you refused.

You want him here. You want him now.

Palm cradling the back of your head, he brings you forward until your mouth is sucking at his shoulder. “Just like that, sweetheart. Good girl.” His praise flips your stomach. A violent somersault of carnal need. “You just suck and bite all you want. I’m gonna take care of you. You know that, don’t you?”

Nodding urgently against him, you’re far too interested in the marks you're leaving against his overheated skin.

“Words for me, okay?” He coaxes so gently it makes your chest ache.

“You’re going to take care of me.” You mumble through a long lick along his collarbone.

Without reply, he slides in deeper, yet still not much more than the tip rests inside you.

A shocked cry escapes you before you can stifle it and his face snaps up, searching your own for tells of pain that he doesn’t have to look all that closely for. “Baby,” the pet name sings out of him, a soft crooning apology. “Let’s stop, I…”

“No, please!’ The frantic want bubbling up inside you colors your voice and surprises you both, but he masks it well.

“Hush, love. No one’s stopping yet.” he soothes, massaging your hip carefully. Just wisps of touch, but you relax beneath it like a sleepy babe cradled up snug and safe.

You’re not fond of that ‘yet’ he tacked on to the end of his promise.

“Deeper.” Your hips lift, forcing his hand while you gulp down another sound of discomfort.

“Don’t.” His grip is suddenly digging into your waist, no longer careful, but swift and insistent instead. “Let me take my time. Let me be gentle. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He’s right, and you tell him as much as he begins a slow, stuttering journey. Starting and stopping as you writhe with impatience and uncomfortability in his capable hands.

Reaching up, he guides your fingers down until they brush over your sensitive clit. “You take care of this for me, okay, baby? Help me make this easier for my pretty girl…I can’t stand the thought of hurting you.”

“Please, Josh…” you sound a mess, and who gives a damn? “Please!”

You’re right, it’s time. He knows it better than you do. He can wait no more. There isn’t far to go anyway.

Suddenly, with one firm thrust, he drives in all the way to the base, shuddering as you coil around him like a hot, wet, fist. Squeezing harder and tighter and fuck….

“So fucking tight.” He is trembling, fighting the urge to let go already. “It’s like you don’t want to let me go. Pussy so pretty and soft. Like the sweetest thing all dressed in pink. Aren’t you fucking gorgeous?”

Your eyes drift closed, breathing through the last remnants of the biting sting. You’re so full, it feels so good. So right. So completely perfect, you cannot begin to fathom how you’ve lived all these years without him inside you.

“Say it.” He sounds like an angel clawing his way closer and closer to something he can’t survive without any longer.

“What?”

“Tell me you’re gorgeous.” He’s fucking you faster now…and it stings, but it hurts so good you want to feel the burn forever. “Say you’re my beautiful girl. Come on, I wanna know that you know.”

“I—“ your face flares as pink as the cunt he’s currently locked inside

“That’s it, baby love…” he coaxes, pumping into you with long, torturous strokes. “C’mon,”

A little less tentative now - he effortlessly makes you believe - the words finally come “I’m gorgeous.”

He smiles so wide his nose crinkles as he nods and dips his lips to meet your own. “Fuck yes you are. My pretty girl. You’re doing so well, look at you. Just taking and taking and taking me.”

Pulling you up and away from the pillow gently, he guides your line of sight to the sinful image of him gliding in and out of you. His cock, glistening and covered in your unbridled desire - it catches the light and steals your heart. Is it possible to be in love with a cock? Or are you just in love with the man who wields it?

Both. Most definitely, both.

“Look, baby, look…” a quivering huff escapes him. “It’s like coming home. Being inside you is like coming fucking home.”

“Harder,” you beg, winded and lost. He feels so good inside you. Stretched further than you ever thought possible around him, you clench and twist a fist into the throw pillow beneath you until your fingernails threaten to rip it open.

“Just…fuck,” his pretty face buries itself in the crook of your neck with a whimper as he falters. “Just a little.”

The room is hazy and blurred, filled with sounds neither of you can seem to quiet. Each moan and breath filling your head up until you feel feverish. Every groan and gasp pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

Your bodies meet in a sweat glazed dance that causes your teeth to grit together - biting down hard to suppress a scream that he might confuse with pain.

He tucks his own teeth into your throat deeply, growling out a melodic sound that sets you on fire, when the salt of your skin hits his tongue.

A shaky, “I’m gonna cum, baby love…where, baby, where?” Pants out of him with a desperate urgency the moment he releases your skin from his bite.

“Inside…” you plead, clawing at his waist as your thighs lock him in close. “Cum inside me…c’mon. Please,”

“Pretty girl begging for my cum. Begging me to ruin this beautiful little cunt…” he sounds as if he’s talking to himself, like he’s trying to convince himself that you’re real.

“Ruin it, baby,” your palms drift up his back, slow and steady…urging him along gently. “Ruin me.”

A sound so exquisitely angelic rumbles up out of his chest. Deep and primal, but somehow gentle and submissive, like he wants to fall at your feet in veneration of something holy and ancient.

He falls against you, pulling you as close as he can get you, and then draws the scent of your hair in only to feel that much closer. Rocking into you as he slowly comes down and finds himself.

Gathering you in his arms, he lifts you away from the disheveled couch, ignoring you when you protest weakly that you can walk.

A bath is drawn and laced with plain epsom salt to soothe your throbbing muscles. He slips into the steaming water behind you, cradling you as he drags a washcloth over your skin.

Quiet verses of a song you’ve never heard are whispered in your ear as you drift into a light slumber without worry, confident that he will keep your head safe above water.

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[themindlessramblingsofamadwoman]

Ruby made the rules of the game

She’d heard stories as a child of people stepping in fairy circles and disappearing to fairyland, to Elfame, to Tir Na Nog. So it was only logical that the doctor would disappear after stepping in one too, sent off to some magical land

The last time Ruby went to wales she ended up in a little pub with live music and drunken local lads who propositioned her endlessly. When she finally made her lack of interest clear after half an hour of tight lipped smiles and polite thank yous to increasingly uncomfortable compliments the boys turned cruel. They mocked her endlessly for being English. They made jokes about the English being soft and about Welsh independence. They smelled like cigarettes and cider and caged her into their little corner booth. The Welsh hated the English those boys said it themselves, so it made perfect sense in Ruby’s mind that locals in this pub would be just as cruel.

When ruby thinks back on the day the doctor disappeared two things stand out with immense clarity the name mad Jack scribbled on a piece of paper and the doctor talking about Roger ap Gwilliam. After seeing his debate on the news it became so clear that they must be connected it couldn’t be a coincidence. So Ruby settled on an objective and new rules for her game

But ruby lost the game the minute Marti Bridges joined the fray. Poor Marti with her big eyes and constantly quivering lips. One thing the doctor and ruby have in common is they don’t sacrifice others to win. The moment that apology slipped from her lips ruby lost the game and had to start over.

When ruby was 11 mindlessly browsing the internet she stumbled across a Buzzfeed article about the top 10 weirdest facts about the human mind. Entry number 7 claimed that in your final moments of brain function before you died your whole life flashed before your eyes. Older now with skin like leather and white wiry hair ruby mused about the idea of being able to change her past in those few moments when she revisited them. So Ruby set the rules once more

And Ruby so desperate to change her past to abandon a boring life of loneliness changed the rules

[screams-in-writing]

Musings for the outcome of wotfi 24

1- Mr puzzles gets obliterated from existence via Karen (who owes smg4 a favor) or some other manner (which would make me churn out a lot more content of him to cope). I don’t think he deserves to die but Puzzles certainly needs to face some steep consequences for all his actions that his obsession led him to/what happened to others in the process of chasing that obsession.

2- Mr. Puzzles finally realizes that he screwed up in regards to Meggy, while also losing the amusement park (manefesting Mario somehow destroying the engine room b/c that’s seems to be what sustains the place) and just kinda shuts down like what more can he do-somehow ends up losing a lot of abilities to render him more of less harmless.

-Secondary to the above: Mr. Puzzles loses his power by somehow turning him back into a human (pls don’t though his appeal is the tv head for me tbh).

3- Mr. Puzzles somehow ends up as the Leggy equivalent of himself and works in the meme factory as penance.

4- who’s going to use the upper floor of the smg4 castle? What’s behind the boarded door? Maybe powerless puzzles and lock him up/keep an eye on him? Like a keep your friends close, but your enemies closer kind of a deal?

5- the whole thing is Mickey and smg4 making mr puzzles hallucinate everything, when in fact it is all a movie he’s experiencing and a warning to think before acting (unlikely but amusing to think about)

6- mr. Puzzles somehow ends up having to work for Marty after everything goes down. More of a silly thing so unlikely.

Edit- 7- mr puzzles father inexplicably makes an appearance and makes things worse

[luna-writes-stuff]

Bliss, Robin Buckley

Song link

Fanfic, fem! reader

Mutual pining, fluff

Word count: 1720

Tw: SAPPHICS. Steve is a wingman. One (1) mention of being drugged (Robin S3). Literally, that’s it. Maybe slight homophobia because it’s the 80s, yay!

Summary: You are a regular customer at the movie rental store where Steve and Robin work, but you’ve shown an increasing interest in Robin. Both of you are too oblivious to make a move. Thankfully, Steve is there to fix it.

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“Everything about you is how I'd wanna be.

Your freedom comes naturally.”

You were infuriating.

Every little thing about you seemed so perfect. Even those things that could be considered inconvenient or annoying - you were fucking perfect. You were so frustrating. How could she ever focus during work when you were right there? Did you really have to keep visiting the store every two days? Did you really have to keep making conversations with her about literally anything? God, it was starting to get her worked up for no reason.

She would ramble, and it would usually cause people to start losing interest. But you embraced it. You laughed at her and indulged her in whatever she was talking about. You’d nod and add your own quips that weren’t your usual polite ‘oh yeah’ and ‘mhm’. No - you were actually listening to what she was saying. It was terrible.

Whenever you’d walk in, her heart would skip a beat and she’d head to the back, doing a stupid jump and trying to contain her gigantic smile. She’d have to ignore Steve’s stupid teasing looks. She’d have to try to not lean over the counter and just force you into her embrace. She’d have to pretend as if your gentle touch on her shoulders wasn’t the most invigorating thing ever.

“Everything about you resonates happiness.

Now I won't settle for less.

Give me all the peace and joy in your mind.”

And there you stood again. That same stupid smile on your face as you placed the used tape on the counter. She had to force her breathing down to seem like a normal person as she tried to do her job professionally.

“Was it a good movie?” She asked as she took the tape, running it through the system before checking it out under your name. “I loved it.” You answered, watching her work, her eyes shooting from the screen to your figure continuously. A nervous chuckle came from Robin as she looked at the title: “I saw this one in the theatres. When it just came out.” “Really?” You gasped. “Yup,” she laughed. “Can’t remember much of it because I was so drugged.”

Her smile immediately dropped as she spoke the words without thinking about them. Her hands stopped working as she turned to face you, an apologetic look on her face. “I’m so sorry.” “It’s okay.” You dismissed, offering her that comforting smile. It didn’t make you uncomfortable. Something about the way she spoke made it impossible to grow uncomfortable with her.

“Like,” she tried to continue. “I was drugged on glee, you know? Because the movie was so good. And Jennifer Parker was like so hot-“ Again, she stopped her sentence, recovering much quicker than she even realised: “I mean, she was so good! A great character, and she wasn’t even in the movie so much, but I would have loved to know more about her. About her character.”

A second nervous chuckle left her as she turned back to the screen stiffly. From where you were standing, you could see her head shake lightly, and you couldn’t suppress the keen grin growing on your face at the adorable sight of it.

“Everything about you, pains my envying.

Your soul can't hate anything.”

“She was cool.” You agreed absentmindedly. “Yeah,” Robin mumbled. “But Marty was attractive too.”

You frowned at her words, a gesture that went unnoticed by her, but not by Steve. Nor were the subtle words following your look.

“Not exactly my type.”

“No?” Robin mused, placing the tape in an empty basket before turning back to you. Her face seemed to light up slightly, and that familiar giddy feeling made it’s way back into the pit of your stomach. “I mean, I get it. He isn’t really mine either.” She rambled, scrambling for the receipt before handing it to you. “Uhm, here you go.”

You couldn’t stand the silence that followed. You liked hearing her talk. And you had no places to be just yet. “Any movies you can recommend?” “Uhm,” The girl hesitated, scanning the store with a quick view. Steve noticed his friend freezing. She wasn’t looking at anything - she was trying to come up with a good answer. But he wasn’t going to let this whole debacle go as quickly as Robin might have.

“Everything about you is so easy to love.

They're watching you from above.”

“Looking for a movie with people who are good on the eye? I know a bunch of handsome fellows.” He began to hint, wiggling his eyebrows in a manner that made you internally cringe at the secondhand embarrassment. You pushed the feeling down, offering him a polite smile.

You knew Steve. You actually came for Robin every so often, but she’d be busy at times and Steve tried to take over. He was really sweet and kind, but would sometimes make some comments that made you hesitant to reply. It was difficult to judge his character.

“No, thank you,” you dismissed. “Not really my thing.” “Not?” Steve returned with a smile. “What about Phoebe Cates?” Then, he pointed towards a display at the beginning of the store, decorated with Christmas bells. “Got Gremlins right there.” He then leaned over the counter, nodding as if to emphasise his point: “She’s very good on the eye.”

“Ignore him, please.” Robin interrupted, shoving her co-worker to the side. “Return To Oz?” She offered, spotting the little ad on one of the televisions in the far corner of the room. Your face lit up at her suggestion. “Oh, good choice!” “You know, if you like this one, I’ve heard a lot of good things about this new movie in town. Labyrinth, I think it was called.” She ranted. “It has David Bowie.” “Oh, I love Bowie!” “Me too!” She shared enthusiastically. “That’s so funny. I was talking with Steve about it, but he doesn’t want to see it. I think he’s threatened by Bowie.”

“Give me all the peace and joy in your mind.

I want the peace and joy in your mind.

Give me the peace and joy in your mind.”

This was your chance for a first move. Steve was difficult to place, but Robin wasn’t. Be that as it may, you were still cautious. There were plenty of people out there who’d have a lot of colourful words to exchange with you. You really liked Robin, but the last thing you wanted to do was scare her off.

But friends went to the movies all the time, right? You could always justify it in one way or the other.

“We could go together.” You spoke, no longer giving yourself more time to doubt. “Yeah,” Robin laughed, not having really understood you. When you didn’t laugh with her, her eyes widened: “Wait, really?” “Why not?” You shrugged, feigning confidence. “You’ve given me so many great recommendations. And I like our talks.”

“Yes,” she answered quickly. “I mean yes. If you want to, I’d go.” “She could go now.” Steve smirked. “Her shift’s ending.” “Really?” “No,” Robin denied, but then she saw Steve’s face. He rolled his eyes to the back, giving her a subtle nod. “Yes,” she changed. “Yes, my shift is ending soon. Will you give me five minutes?” “Sure, yes, of course!” You nodded eagerly. “I’ll wait right here.” “Great!” She called. “I’ll be right back.”

And with that, she had disappeared to the back of the store.

“Everything about you resonates happiness.

Now I won't settle for less.”

An awkward silence came as Steve stared at you, something unknown glinting in his eyes. “Phoebe Cates, huh?” He voiced. You nodded once: “You’re a big Cates fan?” “Well, she’s really hot.” He deadpanned. Without even thinking, you mumbled a brief ‘that’s true’ under your breath. You didn’t think he’d caught it. But he did.

“So, like, what’s your type?” He continued. “I’m sorry,” you chuckled uncomfortably. “I’m sure you’re really nice-“ “No, not like that,” he interrupted, wildly shaking his head before pointing to himself. “I’m seeing someone right now.” Then, he waltzed back up to the counter. “I’m not asking for me.”

You had no reason to properly answer him. You didn’t even know him that well. You just knew his name and the fact he worked with Robin. But if you were to make a move, now was the perfect moment: “Someone funny.” “Robin’s funny.” He added almost immediately.

“Yes,” you sighed, not oblivious to his innuendos. If he was making them, surely he wouldn’t mind. And something in this moment seemed to spark confidence and trust in you. Thus, you resumed: “But I don’t think a lot of people would be happy with that.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his smile only widening: “So, you’re saying there’s a chance.”

“Give me all the peace and joy in your mind.

I want the peace and joy in your mind.”

That’s it. You shouldn’t have told him. This was an awful idea. How could you have been so stupid?

“Listen, just between the two of us, you’d be cute together. Don’t tell Robin I said that.” And just like that, your train of thoughts ended. He didn’t just say what you thought he said. “She likes banana shakes. If you’re going to the cinema, get her one. She would kill for them.”

Flabbergasted, you blinked rapidly, looking at his relieved figure. “I thought you two were a thing.” You muttered. “Oh, no. No, don’t get me wrong, Robin’s cute but no,” he laughed. “No, I think you’re more her type.” You were at total loss for words when you heard his words, your mouth hanging half open as you tried to process everything. “Get her that shake and talk about something other than movies for once.” Then, he turned around, announcing Robin’s figure leaving from the back: “There she is! You two have fun!”

You awkwardly made your way out of the store, waiting for Robin to follow you. She looked at you with an unreadable expression. Somewhere between worry and sorrow. “What did he tell you?” You decided to not tell her just yet. Well, not the whole truth. “Something about you and banana shakes.” “Oh,” she sighed.

“I love banana shakes.”

“Give me the peace and joy in your mind.”

[knickynoo]

Hi! Currently obsessed with bttf and MJF’s work in general. Love your posts! ANYWAY-

how do you think an interaction between Marty and Alex would go? What would they think of each other? Would they be friends?

Hello! Welcome, and I'm glad you're enjoying my posts :)

Interactions between them are always fun to ponder. I think Marty would find Alex pretty dull and much too uptight for his liking. He'd put his best effort into getting along with Alex, though, because Marty's good-natured like that, but I don't know that they'd have enough in common to keep Marty's interest. But oh, would he try. Marty would be searching his mind for any topic they could connect on, but I'm not sure how that would go. They might be abe to bond over music? Marty is a rock & roll guy, and Alex is into jazz and elevator music, but they do both play the guitar. After trying and failing to find a suitable topic, I can see music coming up and both of them getting excited. Marty grabs his guitar, Alex grabs his, and they play a bit.

Unfortunately, I do think Alex might look down on Marty a bit at first. Here's this guy who wants to be a rockstar (not a reliable career!), isn't interested in economics or finance or politics, or anything Alex finds interesting. He'd get in a good couple of jabs at Marty's expense but be put in his place real fast. The thing, though, is that I'm not sure how that would happen. If this is pre-trilogy Marty, he might react in one of two ways.

1) He'd fall into the "I'm no good; I'm stupid; I'll never amount to anything" trap that we know he's prone to experiencing.

Or 2) He'd go straight to grabbing Alex by the collar, prepared to deck him.

I guess it would depend on Marty's mood that day, lol. If it's post-trilogy Marty, he'd brush off Alex's words and go the route of, "I don't need this; I'm out of here." Whatever the response, Alex would figure out he can't get away with acting like that. Hey, maybe he has one of those rare moments of self-awareness and sees he's being a jerk. Maybe he actually picks up on Marty's feelings and shifts his tone. Or maybe he's punched in the face. I dunno.

Overall, while I don't see them as friends, I think they'd reach a place of mutual respect.

Thanks for the ask! If you're interested in more Alex and Marty musings, there are a few posts I've made about an AU where they're brothers. Posts here, here, and here

[likeadevils]

Deciding to out The Black Dog - Starting Line - Matty Healy link, just when she performed the song, when everyone had agreed it was about Joe is brave. So very brave.

here’s the thing. i don’t necessarily believe it isn’t about joe— the other song that mentions the starting line is fresh out the slammer, and that also skates the muse line. especially in the point of the song where the reference falls— “Now we're at the starting line, I did my time” comes right between “My friends tried, but I wouldn't hear it, watched me daily disappearing for just one glimpse of his smile” and “Here, at the park where we used to sit on children's swings, wearing imaginary rings.” like, if there’s ever a song that encapsulates “out of the oven and into the microwave” it’s fresh out the slammer

i do think marty covering the song multiple times does add a new layer, and “someone plays the starting line and you jump up but she’s too young to know this song” gives big matty energy, but i don’t think it completely wipes joe off the table— he also could’ve liked the song, and wouldn’t that just be magic and tragic

also, pure pedantic timeline shenanigans, but i’m pretty sure it was recorded june 22, which would’ve made it like, 4 weeks tops since her and matty split, and like 4/5 months since her and joe split, so the “six weeks of breathing clean air” detail also speaks to a more hazy muse

[doctorbrown]

Rate your muse's traits from 1 to 10

Compassion: 8/10

Bitterness: 2/10 [Doc is not normally bitter about things, and if he is, he typically gets over it fairly quickly or seeks to resolve whatever landed him in the position of feeling that way in the first place if possible.]

Happiness: 9/10 [Especially post-pt.3 when he's got his family back in '85 with him. Doc's always been a positive guy with a great outlook on life. His darker moments/periods have come and went and by the time he's reached his sixties especially, he's just thriving and living his best life.]

Politeness: 4/10 [He can be polite when it calls for it but he'll also dispense with the politeness, especially when it's clearly forced, just as easily at this point in his life. He'll find a way to work some of his sass in there always.]

Chivalry: 7/10 [Doc's a chivalrous guy, he's of that time, never grown out of it, and it just feels right to him.]

Pride: 10/10 [Doc's extremely prideful, but not in a detrimental way. He's confident enough in his abilities and his intelligence and he's always so proud of his inventions when he creates them and is eager to show them off to his family or to Marty.]

Honesty: 7/10 [Doc is mostly honest, as he understands the value in being so in most cases. HOWEVER, that isn't to say that Doc isn't also comfortable with lying, for example regarding the nature of his experiments, his accomplishments, lying by omission regarding his past, lying about the business he created as a front for his experiments, insurance fraud, you name it. He'll lie as a means to an end but this is in situations where he believes that through his lies, he's doing more good in the end than harm. (See: terrorists and acquisition of plutonium.)]

Bravery: 10/10 [Doc will put himself in harm's way for his loved ones without hesitation, he's afraid of heights yet still scaled the Clock Tower to fix the cable to get Marty home, he put himself in danger for Clara's sake, the list goes on. Doc's an incredibly brave man.]

Recklessness: 5/10 [Reckless in the name of scientific pursuits, but also a member of the Fuck Around and Find Out Club on occasion. But this is tricky, because yes, Doc can indeed be reckless, but he's not dangerous, as he always takes safety measures into account with his experiments. He's not truly reckless because he DOES think things through and consider the consequences of his actions (if he can foresee them) and usually attempts to have safety measures in place.]

Ambition: 10/10 [Ambition is the name of the thirty year long game. Everything Doc has done was ambitious, from his young acceptance into university, to his studying on his own to have the requisite knowledge for his experiments, to his completion of the time machine. He thrives off seeing things to completion through hard work and won't stop until he's hit a permanent wall or completed it.]

Loyalty: 10/10 [Doc's extremely loyal to the people he loves and there's no getting around that. He won't sell them out, he'd sooner take the brunt of whatever was coming upon himself to spare them. And even if he hides some things sometimes (knowledge in pt.3 of Marty's abysmal future and the cause of it) it's ultimately for his own good.]

Love: 9/10 [Doc's got a huge heart if you let him show you that and learn his particular way of expressing that love.]

Sense of family: 9/10 [First, the dogs. Then, before he even realises that's what is happening with Marty, he's already started to see the kid as part of his family, toeing the line between son and friend. This only grows exponentially during his nearly ten year stint in the Nineteenth Century when he adds Clara and his two boys to the family.]

Attractiveness: 5/10 [I would arguably put Doc at a much higher level than this personally but to most people, their immediate view of him is that he's homely, he's eccentric, he's not all that charming, so they miss all the things about him that do actually make him a rather attractive man.]

Agility: 7/10 [Doc'll throw you for a loop. He's in better shape than a man his age would ever be expected to be, he's faster than you expect, he can run longer than you'd think he can.]

Sex drive: 2/10 [To be changed accordingly once Clara comes into the picture.]

tagged by: @dynamoprotocol (thank you!!) tagging: you!!

[polyhexian]

Eda refers to the Martlet as Marty. I feel like Jasper would find this endearing. Idk if they're friends (does Jasper even HAVE friends in this AU? sad) but they'd at least be running in the same circles. Casual acquaintances who appreciate each other's work. They exchange idle chit-chat in the night market.

If anyone figures out who the Martlet is before Jasper makes his identity known, it's Luz. She's smart, she's genre-savvy, she still low-key thinks she's in a fantasy story (lol), and she IMMEDIATELY clocks the Martlet as 1) Having a mysterious identity, 2) Having a mysterious BACKSTORY, 3) Being low-key sad, like, ALL the time despite his cheerful badass persona, clearly he is HIDING INNER PAIN, 4) HE'S GOT A SERIOUS SOFT SPOT FOR KIDS AND AN APPARENTLY-PERSONAL HATRED FOR BELOS, THIS IS NOT ADDING UP TO ANYTHING NICE, 5) It is entirely possible she gets a glimpse of his Emperor's Coven sigil at some point.

It's not a priority for her to figure the guy out, and it'd take a while for her to collect all the pieces to the puzzle. But after meeting Hunter she pesters Lilith for information about the Golden Guard, which leads to talk of the old one, so she knows Jasper existed. She knows Hunter is an orphan being raised by an Evil Emperor, which is just…welp, there are stories that go like that and they ALWAYS involve parental drama. She sees the Martlet and Hunter fight and notes that Marty's not as antagonistic as he could be.

…Bahaha, I have no idea how to make the timeline on THIS concept make sense, cuz she doesn't know Belos = Philip until Hollow Mind and who knows how that episode would even go down in this AU, BUT imagine her cornering Jasper like "ARE YOU CALEB WITTEBANE???" and Jasper just. fucking losing it. XD

(Does Jasper know Belos's name is Philip? Does he know the surname Wittebane? Does he even know he's human? Or does he put two and two together when he catches Luz watching an echomouse journal entry? Does he get just as interested in the journal as she is, but his interest is more morbid curiosity?)

Once Luz figures things out, or once things come out, she is just, like. Unholy screeching. OH MY GOD IT'S LIKE A REVERSE DARTH VADER SITUATION.

"Human," Hunter says, infinitely tired, "WHAT are you talking about?"

"Huh, yeah, it kinda is," Eda muses.

Jasper says that bullshit "people like me don't survive stories like this" line exactly one time around Luz and she is NOT having it. NUH-UH. NO SIR. You are NOT allowed to become a sacrificial father figure immediately after being reunited with your son! Her insistence on this is only PARTIALLY due to her own paternal loss trauma, it is also very much fueled by her love of storytelling! She drags out a whiteboard and does an impromptu presentation on TROPES and CHARACTER ARCS! She gasps as she realizes - it's not HUNTER'S redemption arc that's the big one here, it's JASPER'S. He's been riding a redemption arc for 16 years! You don't just kill off a character after that kind of development! Everyone knows Redemption Equals Death happens, like, IMMEDIATELY after the Heel-Face Turn, we are WAY past that threshold! Jasper is kinda overwhelmed but appreciates her optimism.

YEASSSSS

He doesnt have FRIENDS.... but he knows people. Like he works with the CATTs fairly often. He probably shows up to meetings and stuff and hangs around. People KNOW him. He probably does know eda, they're very similar and both hate Belos. He's cagey and he's not going to reveal much but I imagine there's been a time or two he's gotten seriously injured and it's her doorstep he shows up on. He might work with the CATTs but he doesn't trust them. He feels in his bones a trust for eda. She won't turn him in, she won't pull his mask off or tear his identity from him. She'll annoy him sure. But she won't MAKE him do anything. So once in a blue moon he shows up bloody and miserable on her doorstep to ask for help. He stays the night and he's gone by morning. He probably leaves something as a thank you. Maybe some stolen snails. Maybe a stolen owl beast potion. Potion ingredients. Whatever he has.

Luz ABSOLUTELY clocks his shit IMMEDIATELY. The only thing is she doesn't know about Grimwalkers. She's missing info on the golden guards. But it's obvious he's Hunter's dad and it's obvious Hunter doesn't know that. So she thinks like... maybe he escaped Belos but left Hunter behind... but like he is still his like biological dad. She thinks he left Hunter behind and is filled with guilt.

It's not until he is unconscious on Camila's couch and she knows what Grimwalkers are that she's like... putting the pieces together

AND ABSOLUTELY SHES ON THE "NO MOTHRRFUCKER YOU DONT GET TK DIE TRAGICALLY NOW"

[rose-of-pollux]

Aaaaand the fic ideas keep on coming; since thinking about this post where I mused over the musical's continuation of the timeline and how pt II & III can't happen the same way as in the movie and Doc being so ace-coded in the musical also meaning that his relationship with Clara is going to be waaaaay slower is making me want to just write the thing.

And while I'm at it, I might as well make it a "Stuck in 1885" plot (@daryfromthefuture I'm holding you responsible for starting this) where something is wrong with the DeLorean and the tension is with Doc and Marty wondering if they'll ever make it back to 1985.

And of course Mad Dog is a threat because... he's Mad Dog.

Of course they eventually will make it back after several mishaps and close calls, and Clara goes with them.

But yeah. I want to write the thing.

But I have so many things I want to write; where am I supposed to start? Help me out here, y'all--

[randomfoggytiger]

React: "Return to Me" (from the POV of Someone Averse to RomComs, Part II): I Become a Bonnie Hunt Fangirl

Continued from Part I (see here)

Minnie is saved!

Um... Bob's not doing too well. He wants to walk the dog. Charlie has already walked Dog (my muse from Part I.)

"Okay. Thanks."

Charlie's following him around but he respects Bob's unspoken need for distance.

Charlie's really taking it hard, but I know Bob's going to have an epic meltdown once the ice thaws (to loosely quote Grace Kelly's boyfriend-character Mark in Dial M for Murder: "Later, you're going to have a beautiful cry.")

Ohhhhhhhhh, got it. The dog (Mel? ...still better than Bob) waits by the door for Jane Bennett every time.

They kicked up the 90s slow memory sequence.

And Bob's crying.

Okay, he's really crying.

Okay, I dig this.

Bob, you've endeared me to Bob. I shall lay "the bit" to rest in peace. ...With Elizabeth.

Look, I know that was a low blow, Bob, but it had to be done.

Old grandfather prays to his favorite battle saint for Minnie's heart.

Bonnie? the mom friend is an actual mom wrangling her entire family, including the older generations.

Old grandpa Marty is devoted to his candle and prayers.

More 90s slow mo--

I was going to say this reminds me of the 90s slow dance slow mo sequences I typically think are in romcoms and now it's back to Bob while he continues to sob on the floor as Mel (who is no longer my stand-in, I suppose, you can't come back from a name like Mel) sits there, unfazed.

Oooh, look--

beautiful shot.

Grandpa is the only one awake-- prayed that heart back to life.

And the camera goes back to Bob when the heart starts beating again, waking him up.

Coincidence? With Tuscany and vacations and romance to be had???

Minnie Driver's painting. Good for her representing the artistic girlies.

Old men bonding over music while grandpa keeps an eye on his granddaughter. Is this how we and our mutuals sound?

Methinks he will sniff out the jig and bring all the pieces together by the end (because there's got to be a 3/4 misunderstanding, right?)

I like how casual Bonnie Hunt's style is-- it's a gentle, lived-in world.

Grace, as we shall now call her, bikes in the street with kids-- not, as her grandfather cautioned, on the side of the road.

Doctor's appointment!

"Oh, of course I'm happy. What else am I going to be?"

..................Yeahhhhhhhhhh, you're not happy.

Grace: saved from death, still insecure about her scar, and slowly bumping herself back to life. An imperfect survivor, a normal human.

A mood.

"I'm alive and someone else is dead." A mild form of survivor's guilt, I see, I see.

"He's a great listener" was a great joke.

Bob is grumpy and determined and driven I see.

Two morbid souls will collide at the zoo over the rubber monkey enclosure, I reckon.

Another girl, another mood:

It's been a year and friend Bonnie finally convinces her to mail the "thank you for your heart" letter.

"Okay, everyone clap for Auntie Grace, she just mailed a very important letter." Amazing.

Bonnie shoving everyone past the construction workers was also amazing.

Bonnie's a fave (and love that she gave herself-- if this is the same Bonnie-- a great role that doesn't outshine the main leads. It's respectful and kind.)

Bob still obsessively guards Jane Bennett's memory.

The heart's pumping again. Pumpity pump pump.

Bow chicka-- nope, they missed each other.

But Grace felt something and highlighted that her heart beating didn't hurt (hmmmmmmmmmmm foreshadowing.)

I CALLED IT the gorilla's doing the hand thing that he used to do with Jane Bennett aka Elizabeth... lastnamehere, ahem ahem.

Bob's mad and tells off a board room.

"I'm here because of my wife. You got it?"

Thank you for that shot, Bonnie.

I'm becoming a big Bonnie fan, as you can tell.

Charlie is setting his man up with a date only a year later, right after he tore apart a board room AND is working his men overtime for his late wife??? ...Charlie, my man, you're going to have to work miracles. You should meet Minnie Driver's Catholic grandpa, he'd adore you.

Wait, Charlie's a vet? Oh, wait, yeah, he works at the zoo.

Introducing new kid on skates.

"Look at you! Where are you going?"

"I don't know!"

This is the quality content I hoped for.

Skates boy holds down the fort-- a valuable guy.

"C'mon, pal," Bob chastises because Mel won't kick the "wait for Elizabeth" habit. (In the first part I likened the dog to be my self-insert. This dog is nothing like me, and I am immeasurably disappointed.)

Subtle touch of immense irritation at someone knocking on the door.

Is it time to reenact how happy he was compared to how mad he'll get at Mel now? The set up and payoff?

Here we go.

"Eat back here like a normal person--"

Chuckle worthy, but also.

He softens up; but the dog doesn't budge too much.

"You made it halfway."

That's the theme, I'll bet.

"You gotta snap out of it, buddy."

This makes Bob reflect, and he decides to kick some of his own Pavlovian responses-- and ends up on a truly horrendous date.

At least, I know that part's coming up and I'm pumped.

The old men's song convo comes back: they were selecting music for their restaurant. Nice touch.

Grandpa surprises her with tickets to Italy to paint cuz he was staring earlier at her painting earlier and it's these little moments that make me repeat words like "earlier" too frequently.

The waitress lady missed Grace's initial reaction and is put out. The banter is epic.

And Angelo talked the grandpa into it and Minnie knows this and thanks them all in a way that reflects their separate bonds. Good storytelling.

Angelo set her up with a hair transplant man (reminds me of a joke Bill Burr? told about stapling ants to your head for vanity's sake.)

Angelo's taste in vacations? Top tier.

Angelo's taste in men? Absolute bottom tier... though the guy's cheerful, so there's that.

I love this.

I don't even need a romance at this point I just want to watch the two live their separate, slowly recovering lives.

Enjoy!

[georgiapeach30513]

Agree with what you said. Also Tom Cruise does a lot of the same movies, isn't there like 10 mission impossible movies lol and top gun 2 was a blockbuster hit. He still brings people to the theater.

The Russo's can make different types of movies the problem is they're mostly known for marvel but they've been making different things for years. So Chris could continue to work with them and make many different films. If a director and actor work well together and put out good stuff like Leo and Marty then who cares. It's only when it doesn't work.

They just have to pick the right projects to do together, I think they can do things for many years to come.

Does Tom do much more than Mission Impossible? Fun fact, I’m an extra in American Made.

I would think that Tom has more money than Brad just on MI alone. Here’s where Brad was very smart, Plan B Productions. I have my issues with Brad Pitt now, but he has done so many good movies. I don’t watch most his work now, but back in the 90s and 00s Brad was so good!

The problem with the Russos is that they have action movies with no substance as their biggest movies. The Marvel movies and TGM had such huge budgets. And TGM is pretty much forgotten by most people now. I have said it before but I feel they’re going the Michael Bay route, it’s just about the action and explosions. I want character development, and plots that don’t revolve around bang bang.

But like you said, if they can continue to make good DIFFERENT movies, I don’t think most will care. I do think that Chris is a bit of the Russos muse when it comes to their movies. They adore him. And it could be because he’s easy to work with, he’s professional, and he picks up on the fight scenes easily.

[concerthopperblog]

Favorite Americana and Roots Albums of 2023

It's that time of year again when publications drag out their annual Best Of 2023 lists. Here at Concerthopper Album Review Central, we love these as they always give us something new to listen to and put on our Christmas list. But, as with every year, we avoid the “Best” label on our list in favor of “Favorite.” This is simply because, even keeping ourselves limited to Americana albums, there are just too many released every week for us to ever hear them all. Here's hoping you find something new to grab at your local indie record store to stuff in those stockings! Where we reviewed the album, we have included a link. Where not, we've included a YouTube video of a highlight song from the album.

10. Cidny Bullens- Little Pieces One of the best things about music is its ability to give you a chance to understand the experiences of a demographic not your own. In the case of Cidny Bullens, Little Pieces offers an opportunity to walk in the shoes of a transgender man, both the struggles and joys. It's all wrapped in a mix of power pop and roots music that'll keep your toes tapping.

9. The Arcadian Wild- Welcome Is it Americana? Folk? Jazz? Chamber Pop? You'll ask yourself those questions throughout your first couple of listens of Welcome. After that, you'll decide you don't care. Whatever genre you place them in, The Arcadian Wild has delivered a fun album of intelligent tunes that challenge listeners in the best way possible at every turn.

8. Whitney Rose- Rosie After an illness hospitalized her and prevented her from touring in 2023, Whitney Rose poured that pain into her latest studio effort, Rosie. The result is an album that flawlessly blends classic country and '60s pop (think Skeeter Davis) in a way that is a natural maturation from her last album, 2020's We Still Go to Rodeos.

7. Hello June- Artifacts A major step forward for Hello June. Primary songwriter Sara Rudy proves her album title is apt as she digs deep into her own experiences for an intensely first-person album of highly literary lyrics. From a dying love (“Faded Blue”) to a dying parent (“Interstate”) to an ode to her newborn nephew (“Sometimes”) to a stellar cover of John Denver's “Country Roads (Take Me Home)”, there's plenty to recommend here.

6. Parker Millsap- The Wilderness Within You Parker Millsap, already one of Americana's most willing explorers, just keeps expanding his boundaries on The Wilderness Within You. The album, often a musing on stepping away from the electronics addiction to reconnect with people, surprises with its technological flourishes, pulling from New Wave and Krautrock on songs like “So Far Apart.”

5. Doolin'- Circus Boy It's not often you hear the term “French Celtic Supergroup.” But that's Doolin' for you. However, on Circus Boy, the band expands beyond its Celtic roots into Folk Pop (“The Darkest Way”), Americana (“Circus Boy”), French pop (“L'amour Sorcier”), and Calypso (a cover of Harry Belafonte's hit “Man Smart, Woman Smarter”). The result is one of the most fun albums on this list.

4. Dom Flemons- Traveling Wildfire Dom Flemons is Roots Music's most dedicated historian. He began (alongside Rhiannon Giddens and Justin Robinson) his work of unearthing the almost-forgotten history of black string band music with Carolina Chocolate Drops and has continued to do so with his solo records for Smithsonian Folkways. But Traveling Wildfire also shows off Flemons' love of traditional country, from the ambling waltz of “Slow Dance With You�� to the Marty Robbins-esque western story song “It's Cold Inside” alongside his historical remembrances like “Nobody Wrote It Down.”

3. Molly Tuttle & Golden Highway- City of Gold Wanderlust is the loose theme of City of Gold, the new album from Molly Tuttle's bluegrass project Golden Highway. Co-written almost entirely with Old Crow Medicine Show's Ketch Secor, Tuttle, and her stellar all-star band blast through a set of tales about gold rush pioneers (“El Dorado”), a road trip between two lovers trying to mend a widening gap (“Yosemite”, featuring guest vocals from Dave Matthews), and a lament for the loss of the wild and crazy festival fans who have given way to selfie-snapping scenesters (“Where Did All the Wild Things Go?”)

2. Cinder Well- Cadence While it's not the #1 album of the year so far, it's a near thing. No album bowled me over like Cadence in the first half of 2023. I was familiar with Amelia Baker's “doom folk” project from her excellent previous album No Summer, but nothing prepared me for the dark explorations of the “thin places” in our reality where magic, not always positive, happens. Songs like “Two Heads, Grey Mare” and “Gone the Holding” practically drip with the Old Ways of Baker's home on Ireland's coast. 1. Jason Isbell- Weathervanes One of these days, Jason Isbell is going to release an album that's “just” really good. This isn't that year and, like every other release year since I've been doing Album of the Year lists, he comes out on top. Backed up by The 400 Unit, who just continue to make the case that they're this generation's Heartbreakers, Isbell continues to write fully fleshed-out characters in four-minute rhymes. There's the opioid-addicted protagonist of the standout song “King of Oklahoma,” the girl coping with the fact that her racist town “won't get no better, will it?” on “Cast Iron Skillet, a man breaking down about how to raise his child in a world where schools get shot up every other day on “Save the World,” and so much more. Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit are the kings of rock and roll right now and they don't look interested in surrendering the throne anytime soon.

[outtatiime]

Temp rules/guidelines/info while this blog is heavily in the works.

First and foremost, Doc does not have a modern verse. I'm using 1920 as his birthdate, as was given in the novelisation, and his 'main' verse, regardless of where and when he time-travels to, will always see him a man of 1985-20XX. Doc's main verse takes place after the trilogy by default and alludes to the fact that he, Clara, Jules, and Verne returned from the 19th century to settle properly in Doc's time.

Not a rule per se, but more of an acknowledgment that while I do enjoy the comics' telling of how Doc & Marty met, I hate that they decided to have Doc be the one to tell Marty to call him by that nickname. No. Absolutely not. Doc would never. Marty, after a few weeks of coming by Doc's place, started calling him that affectionately and he just rolled with it.

Your muse will not automatically know about the DeLorean or that Doc is a time-traveller. It is a secret he goes to great lengths to keep for fear of sparking something catastrophic he can't control and he will not, without reason, clue anyone into the secret of his lab, the Time Train, or the DeLorean. Doc goes to extremes to blend into whatever time period he's visiting. It's not public knowledge. He's not shouting it to the heavens. Hell, he concealed the entire project from Marty until he was ready to reveal it at 0115 that morning. Am I open to muses finding out through whatever might unfold during a thread? Absolutely! Consequences!! But that requires communication.

There may be dark themes present on this blog due to the nature of time-travel, the ripple effect, how easily the trilogy claims that the past (and therefore the future) can be altered (see: Hell Valley timeline, 1985A), Doc's trauma resulting from his actions in the '40s and from time-travelling (the things he's seen, the knowledge of his own death, the times he thought he was going to lose Marty, etc.) and several arcs in the comics. The films chose to keep things more light, but I won't be afraid to explore verses / AUs where things take a darker turn. That being said, I will not be writing topics like rape, non-con, sexual / romantic acts of any kind with minors.

I do not and will not, under any circumstances, tolerate romantic ships between Doc & Marty or Doc & any other muse that is not, at the very least, in their late thirties. In 1985, Doc is sixty-five years old. After the events of BTTF I, when he leaves Marty and Jennifer to travel to the future, he visits the rejuvenation clinic and adds several decades to his life, and though the treatments revitalise him and give him the appearance and constitution of someone in his forties, he is still mentally and emotionally in his sixties. It's not happening.

Romantic shipping is unlikely to happen on this blog, but it's not impossible. It's important to note that Doc is not actively looking for a partner, nor for sex, and he's very guarded with his emotions and almost thinks he's better than such base human desires. He is difficult to ship with. Romantically oblivious. For the longest time, he has been content to have it be just him and his dog, then himself, his dog, and Marty, and just be able to focus on his science. If through interactions there ends up being some kind of a spark between muses, I'd be open to chatting and seeing where it goes.

I am usually a multi-para to novella length writer and I enjoy plotting. Got an idea? Please come tell me about it! I'll be delighted and eager to jump into something with you.

I love AUs! I love crossovers (BTTF makes this so easy I will BS a way to get him to cross realities too) and I love interacting with OCs and canons. This blog is multi-verse, private (mutals-only) and semi-selective and I ask that you have visible rules/about/age on your blog. Given the fact I am 30+, I prefer not to interact with anyone under the age of 21.

My name's Red, I go by any pronouns, I live off coffee and bad decisions, and I just really love sci-fi. And werewolves.

[noahleveson]

Nick didn’t have to say anything more, his uneasy facial expression while glancing around the bar said everything and already had Noah getting up from his stool. He wasn’t about to let a fellow dedicated employee have a terrible shift, especially when that same employee should have been a source of music for the crowd instead. “No surprise, figures why you’re left out to fend on your own right now.” He laughed at the remark about Marty. “I’m not even going to bother. Not like I’d get an answer from him anyway.” Noah mused as he moved behind the counter, already grabbing empty pint glasses to start filling. “Good thing I did swing by here then. And you have yourself a deal for a free song, don’t think I could stand losing more change to the juke box.” 

Nick flashed Noah a mega-watt smile at the concession that he'd school him no matter what. He didn't think he was good at many things but... music? He knew that like the back of his own hand. And, yeah, maybe his ego was inflated a bit by the notion that someone else noticed that, too.

He spared a glance around the bar, brows pinched together in mild concern. The truth was, the night had really only begun and stools were filling up fast. And while Nick wasn't infamous for asking for help, he wasn't sure he could pass up an offer like this one, especially when someone he actually trusted was popping up with the offer. Noah was a hard-worker, no doubt about it. "Well, actually..." Nick jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the staff door. "Tell Marty you're here. See what he says. I could use the help. It's not like he's coming out from back there any time soon. And as a thank you, I'll play you a song after close." He allows a corner of his lips to quirk up before he continues. "Free of charge."

[doctorbrown]

DOCTOBER '23 ⸺ 「 23 / 31 * NOSTALGIA 」

December 7, 1985

❝Can you believe it's been twenty-seven years already since we got married, George?❞ Lorraine says, smiling as George wraps his arms around her from behind. He leans in and whispers something in her ear that paints her face a bright shade of red and has her giggling like a schoolgirl. Lorraine swats at George's hand half-heartedly, but her eyes are twinkling with the knowledge passed between them in their silent conversation.

Marty quickly looks away from his parents to look at Dave, at Linda, at the faint coffee stain on the couch—anywhere but there. Linda rolls her eyes, shrugs at Marty, and leans in toward her little brother to whisper, ❝You and Jennifer better not be this bad when you get to be Mom and Dad's age.❞

❝How time flies,❞ George says wistfully, ❝but these have been the best years of my life. I married the woman of my dreams, I have my family... You know, I was actually looking through some of our old stuff and you'll never guess what I found tossed in with the photo albums—our old yearbooks!❞

❝Our yearbooks? Oh, I haven't thought about those things in years.❞ Lorraine sighs, leaning back into George. ❝Speaking of high school, George, you remember Calvin?❞

Marty snaps straight to attention as Lorraine makes a noise he can't quite place. At his sides, Linda and Dave both groan in preparation for a story they've heard so many times they could recite it verbatim.

A lump the size of a baseball forms in Marty's throat and he feels the tension mounting in his shoulders as he pulls them tighter, willing to the powers-that-be that his parents change the topic or the power goes out. The lights don't even flicker and his silent pleas once again go unanswered.

He grabs his soda from the table.

❝Calvin. Now there's a name I haven't heard in a while. I wonder what happened to him. He disappeared after the dance; didn't his uncle say he went back to New York?❞

They talked to Doc? Marty chokes on his drink and Linda whips her head around, her face scrunched up in a mix of concern and annoyance. ❝You forget how to drink?❞ He waves a hand at the four pairs of eyes now trained on him to say I'm fine, ignore me. Dave pats him gently on the knee.

❝He must have been one of the strangest people I ever met,❞ George continues, humming softly. ❝Always saying weird things, didn't quite fit in—❞

❝But he was so handsome,❞ Lorraine muses, and Marty feels his stomach flip. This is all still too fresh in his mind for them to be talking about this and he fights the urge to cover his mouth when he starts feeling nauseous for fear that they'll somehow put two-and-two together.

Dave's brows furrows as he asks if Marty's feeling alright and he diverts the question with a hurried nod.

❝Mm, he was an attractive guy, wasn't he?❞ Marty's eyes widen as the realisation sets in.

❝I'll never forget his advice to me: you can accomplish anything if you put your mind to it. It's what I've been teaching you kids since you were little. It's all because of him I had the courage to stand up to Biff that night.❞

Lorraine smiles. ❝You were amazing, George. It was the most heroic thing anyone had ever done for me.❞

Linda groans. ❝We know, Mom, we know. And then Calvin Klein played at the Enchantment Under the Sea dance where you kissed for the first time and fell madly in love, Dad became super popular at school and became class president, and you lived happily ever after.❞

❝Why don't I go grab one of them? I think there's even a picture or two of Calvin in there. Have we ever shown you those photos, kids?❞

Marty shoots up off the couch like a rocket as his heart slams into his ribcage. ❝Shit, uh, I just remembered I was supposed to help Doc with something; I gotta go!❞

[vipervenom]

tag dump #3