#rip dvd side

[xipe-slayground]

The DVD rental side of Netflix is shutting down. One of the first things I rented was the TV show Profit.

I still remember the entire summer I kept Daybreakers and watched it almost every day. I eventually broke down and bought myself a copy.

[badnewswhatsleft]

my heart will always be the b-side to my tongue dvd - download here

release the bats dvd - download here

i included rips of individual chapters of the main titles where applicable as well as the normal uncut versions for viewing convenience soo. have at it

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

Korn - A.D.I.D.A.S

[wisteriaclaw]

ive fallen into a physical media rabbithole so deep i ended up in hell this time..

[nubelo]

Yu-Gi-Oh about to catch an STD with how it keeps bouncing from streaming service to streaming service.

[eightstarr]

at the count of three — ellie williams.

summary: how do you tell your best friend you’re in love with them? ellie has an answer! just be cool and wait for the right moment— and the next. and maybe another one, just to be sure. if you get impatient, you can always take a deep breath and count to three! (years, that is)

warnings: slow burn (childhood friends to lovers <3), little bit suggestive but no smut!

notes: born from a piece of dialogue i wrote like, a year ago and completely forgot about but somehow a week later it's 4k words? idk you're welcome or i'm sorry!!! also yes they do spend almost every scene sitting together on a couch but that's what lesbianism is all about...

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・。.・゜✧・. ────

ONE!

A movie plays on the TV, a slightly tarnished DVD of an 80’s action flick starring some oily guy and the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen— Ellie doesn't remember much other than an obnoxiously epic soundtrack and lingering shots that made the plot twist too obvious about 20 minutes in. 

She's freshly eighteen; you’re ahead only by a couple months. It's a warm Friday night, Joel and your dad in the kitchen putting scraps together for a mildly healthy dinner, Ellie sitting on the very opposite side of the couch from where you are. It’s hot, she'd said, looking away from your comically insulted face that grew with every scooch she made from your side, a lame excuse to save her from the newly found (and fucking torturous) fluttering that sparks in her stomach whenever she sits too close to you.

From the kitchen comes the sound of a can hitting the floor, followed by Joel’s 'shit!' and then quickly, 'sorry, girls'. You chuckle, turning to Ellie and catching her staring at you. A wrinkle forms between your eyebrows at the same time a pink warmth floods her cheeks. “Dude, you’re not even paying attention.”

“I am,” a scoff, her eyes now strictly committed to the screen. “The noise distracted me,” she adds, knowing it didn't even make her flinch from the careful study of your side profile.

“Scaredy cat— ow!” a pillow crashes against your cheek, sudden enough to shock you, too soft to do any real damage. “What the fuck?”

Ellie raises her eyebrows and looks at you from the corner of her eyes, a smirk half hidden by her hand. “Don’t be rude, you're missing the best scene.”

You throw the pillow back and scoff when she catches it, your lips slightly pursed, the signature sign to tell you’re annoyed. It's almost identical to the replica of that gesture that sits at the end of her last journal entry, an overly dedicated sketch born from a wandering thought. She could make it more accurate, she thinks now, soften the line of your jaw, take the scar on your cheek a little more to the left.

The sound of water splashing from the TV catches her attention and Ellie snaps her head forward (lest she get caught staring again), just as the blonde haired love interest is walking out of a fancy looking swimming pool.

“She’s hot,” you say, fingers pulling absentmindedly at loose threads on the rip of your jeans. When Ellie doesn't say anything, you turn to look at her, “You don't think so?”

Her voice comes out a higher pitch than she’d like. “What—” she clears her throat before continuing to mumble, “I don't know, I guess.”

You laugh. “You guess?” 

“Yeah, I— I don't know, dude, I wasn't thinking about that.”

You watch the nervousness on her face, the gulp that passes her throat, the red under her freckles. Fondness tugs at your chest and your voice softens just slightly, a smile playing on your lips. “Oh my God. Ellie, it’s okay,” green eyes find your face and she sees you hesitate for a second before you shrug. “Who cares? It's just me.”

You make it sound easy. It's the most distinct thing Ellie remembers about this moment, how suddenly safety felt like the most obvious thing. TV light on your face, your arm over the back of the couch, the same eyes she's been looking at since she was fourteen. Of course it's okay. Everything else with you is easy, why wouldn't this be the same?

Ellie shifts on the couch, the distance between you turning quickly ridiculous— offensive, even. She’s embarrassed to have let her flusteredness get in the way, but the urge to be closer doesn't feel right either. Everything she does feels like too much, everything she says too intense. “How long have you known?” she asks.

You tilt your head, less of a question and more of a guidance, “Known that you…”

Ellie parts her lips, unsure of whether or not she’s gonna say it or how, trying to will the words to come out. And they do, she remembers it well, because it was the first and maybe the only time she was this direct about it. “That I like girls.”

The smile on your face is teeth-rotting sweet, but she only gets to bask in it for a second before you widen your eyes and lower your voice to a scandalized whisper. “You what?”

Ellie rolls her eyes, cheeks burning, “Oh, fuck you.”

Your laugh fills up the room and the fluttering in her stomach feels absurd at this point, like she would actually be able to feel those annoying little butterflies flying around if she were to press her hand against her abdomen. “Sorry, sorry,” you say, and for a terrifying second Ellie thinks maybe they're loud too, and you’re able to hear them. But then she looks at you and forgets about it, easy easy easy. “It’s really okay. You know that, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says. For once, there's not a glimpse of doubt about it to be found.

You watch another ten minutes of the movie in silence before your dad's head peeks out from the kitchen to call you both to the table for dinner.

Ellie has a habit of eating like it's her last day on earth. When you were both new residents of Jackson, hungry and scared and not at all used to the idea of a full plate of food twice a day, she couldn't help it. And you were the same, hence why your dad thought it would be good for you and Ellie to spend time together, which quickly turned to being around each other basically every minute of every day. But as the weeks passed, you seemed to be learning to adapt faster. A younger Ellie found this frustrating— especially after that time Joel complimented your table manners.

You’re just… nicer, she remembers saying, a stressed frown on her still childlike face, fiddling with a box of marbles she’d found under her new bed. She remembers how you pulled one out, your fingers brushing against her own for the first time ever, and held the clear crystal with green stripes next to her eyes, a satisfied smile at a practically perfect match. You’re nice too, Els, you’d said, shrugging your shoulders, the marble shoved inside your pocket, I think I just lie better.

Until that moment, Ellie had never thought about it that way; the fact that you could be pretending to feel more confident and comfortable than you really are to make yourself safer, to get people to like you. But when she asked, you swore you had never lied to Ellie. She used to drive herself mad thinking about that, a strange, confusing worry gnawing at her chest— she likes that you don't feel the need to lie, but what does it say about how you see her? Is it that you don't care if she likes you? Or worse, is it that you know that she already does?

You sit in front of her today at the same dinner table, four years later, and watch her practically inhale her bowl of pasta like no time has passed at all. You let out a snort and Ellie wonders if you can see it even now, if her constant thoughts of you are obvious even when she looks this busy.

"What?" she asks, an immediate frown on her face, though she's done you the honor of swallowing her mouthful before speaking.

"You're so gross," you say, chin resting on your palm, tilting your head like you're looking at some thought provoking art piece. Ellie thinks you'll leave it at that, but then you reach over and swipe your thumb over the red spot of sauce next to the corner of her lips, so soft she barely feels it. You watch her frown soften for a second before it becomes even deeper.

Ellie feels like her whole body is exploding with warmth, too hot under the hoodie she's wearing, too pink across her face. It's so obvious, she thinks, it's so— fuck, pull it together. Her gaze follows your finger as you bring it to your lips and lick off the sauce. “You’re disgusting,” she retorts lamely, her hand rough when she brushes it over her mouth, lest you notice another stain and she has to watch you do that again.

You are familiarly not deterred by her meanness. Or her attempt at it. "And you eat like a five year old,” you shrug. “I guess we both have our issues."

Ellie catches herself staring at your hands for the rest of the meal, certain that she's never noticed them in the same way before. How much time has she been wasting? You both have your issues, you'd said, but Ellie thinks she has you beat. Yours can't possibly be anywhere near this dangerous.

─────✧･ﾟ: *✧･

TWO!

Someone's knocking on her door. Ellie sniffles and lets out a groan as she gets up from the couch, sore throat, her limbs heavy and tired. She knows it's you because it's always the same three knocks; the first two firm and loud, a pause, and then one tiny one that sounds almost like 'sorry'. You’re impatient but still painfully afraid to be rude— if she loved you a little less, Ellie thinks she would make fun of it a lot more. But alas, she's cursed to smile at it every time.

She opens the door and the breeze that slips in makes her fall immediately into an embarrassing coughing fit. “It’s fine,” she mutters, at the same time you’re saying jesus christ, Ellie. “Shit. I’m okay,” she clears her throat and finally gets a moment to look at you, all pretty and put together in your best shirt and a freshly showered scent, the sun setting behind you like a perfect frame. Ellie prays her lungs don't betray her again and tries to make the brush of her hand over her messy hair look casual instead of desperate.

“Well, I was gonna ask if you wanted to come to the party with me for just a few minutes, but… I’m not sure you should be out of bed,” your worried frown is pretty, too. What a cruel fate. “Is Joel home? I can stay—”

“No, no, you’re good,” Ellie shakes her head, arms crossed over her chest like maybe it’ll cover up enough and you won't notice she was wearing the same long sleeve the last time you saw her. “He’ll be here in like, five minutes. I’ll be fine, ’m not a baby.”

You’re both nineteen by this time, Ellie remembers because you wore the same pretty blue shirt that you're wearing now for her birthday, and it was the day she realized her crush was no longer deniable. It's easier to act like nothing’s happening when she feels like she's alone in it, like there's no universe where you could love her like she loves you so she might as well let the fantasy die— but then you put on your shirt that's reserved for special occasions just to come over and bring her the cupcake you made, and suddenly Ellie can picture herself with her hands on each side of your waist, pulling you close, saying thank you with her lips brushing against yours before she kisses you. She can see it so clearly that it startles her, changes everything. Her birthday comes with a punch to the gut and a hunger she wants to tell you and only you about.

“You’re not gonna be bored? I really don't mind staying until he gets home.”

Ellie thinks (dramatically, extremely nineteen—) that if she lets you take care of her, she might actually die. It felt like she almost did last time you visited, your face serious with concentration as you pressed the back of your hand against her forehead. ‘You're warm’, you said, ‘do you feel sweaty?’ Ellie stared up at you, eyes glossy and heavy from sleep. ‘Not really’, her fingers sneaked out from under the blanket to wrap themselves around your forearm, a moment of bravery or delusion, ‘your hand feels nice’. You chuckled, ‘okay, keep it’.

She’s less feverish today, but not yet recovered from the greedy voice in her head that begs her to keep you close. If you don't go to the party now, she thinks (knows) that she’ll let herself casually talk you into staying the rest of the night. “Nah, don't miss your party,” she says. “I’ll be okay, Joel’s gonna teach me how to play that old card game.”

You raise your eyebrows. “So you're gonna argue all night.”

“No— what?” Ellie scoffs. “It’ll be good, I learn fast.”

“Yeah, because you make up your own rules.”

“I have questions about the rules, that's not the same thing.”

“It is if you cheat—”

“I’m not a cheater!”

You hum, a curious tilt of your head, and Ellie rolls her eyes before the words are even out of your mouth. “No, I guess you’d have to have a girlfriend for that.”

You watch her run her tongue over her teeth, her shoulder against the door frame. “You know I could say the same to you, right?”

“Too bad I said it first,” you shrug, pretty smile stretching your lips. “I guess I'll go, then. I’ll come over when it's done so you don't miss me too much.”

Ellie tries to maintain her composure. You know, she thinks, do you know? You must know. You can't know— “Right. Also so you can steal my food and crash in my bed, I’m guessing.”

“When you’re all vulnerable and weak? What do you think of me, Ellie?” you frown sadly, a hand over your heart.

“I think I know you,” she says, the corner of her lips lifting just a little, inescapably.

You walk to the gate and turn around as you close the lock, your hands on either side of your mouth as if she’s miles and miles away. “I’ll take the couch!”

“Yeah, sure!” Ellie yells back, her voice pretty even when it's hoarse, knowing she’ll hold on for just about ten minutes before she insists you take the bed instead.

Joel stays awake with her until around 10pm, when his yawns become too many to hide and he’s already let Ellie win three games, his smile genuine and wide while she chuckles and pretends she doesn’t notice. He leaves her with a tupperware of soup for tomorrow’s lunch and a deck of cards. To teach your friends or— I don't know, keep on the coffee table, he’d said, make you look cool. Ellie’s not sure you would find a box of cards ‘cool’, but she’s not above trying.

Ever since she moved out to the garage, she’s discovered a new type of stress at the notion of having you over. At Joel’s house, all she ever did to prepare for guests was pick up the dirty clothes from her bedroom floor and put her books in a (wobbly) single pile. Now things are different. The garage is small, but it's all hers— her floor, her living room, her kitchen. She can't have you thinking that she can't take care of things on her own.

She spends the next hour moving things around until finally, two loud knocks. A second passes; Ellie looks at the cards and considers shoving them inside one of the drawers on her desk. By the time the one quiet knock comes, she shrugs and decides to leave them on the coffee table, lest Joel was right and she misses a chance to have you start thinking she's cool and mysterious. “It's open,” she says from the couch, tiredness soon catching up with her after all that time rearranging things.

The door opens and you come in, quickly closing it behind you, a relieved sigh at the loss of that crisp, cold breeze outside. “Did Joel forget those?” you ask, bent at the waist as you take your shoes off, your chin pointing at the deck, the only thing on the coffee table. Maybe she should've been more subtle with it.

“Uh, no,” Ellie scratches the back of her neck, her legs stretched across the couch. “They’re a gift.”

She's not sure you hear her over the groan you make as you stretch your arms above your head, her legs moved to the side automatically to make space for you to sit. You fall down with a sigh and both forget about the cards— you, distracted by the warm tingly feeling of a couple drinks, and Ellie by the new jacket you’re wearing.

She lets a million different scenarios spin around her head for a couple seconds before she blurts out the question. “Whose is that?”

“What?” you turn your head away from the movie playing on the TV.

“The jacket.”

“Oh,” you look down at yourself as if you’ve just remembered it’s there. “Maya was leaving too, so she walked here with me. It’s hers.”

Ellie hums, her back sliding a little further down the couch, legs spread. “Stinks like it’s hers.”

You chuckle before you can help it, her animosity ridiculous and charming— Ellie’s better with actions than she is with words. “I don't even know what you're talking about,” you shake your head, not quite slurring, but not too far from it either. "She smells like strawberries."

Fuck Maya and her strawberry shampoo. Ellie could get some if she wanted to, maybe if she traded— what the fuck is she thinking about? She rolls her shoulders back and pushes the thoughts away, gluing her eyes to the screen. “Sure,” she says, less because she agrees and more because she doesn't wanna hear what else you like about Maya. “You had fun, then?”

“It was alright. You didn't miss out on too much,” the end of your sentence stretched out by a yawn, you cover your mouth lazily and rest back fully against the couch. “Jesse was drunk. They had to stop him from getting up on a table.”

Ellie chuckles. “I don't know, maybe he had something to say. I think I would’ve let him.”

“That's what I said,” you smile and let your head fall to the side, your cheek against the cushion. She feels you staring, enables it for a while by acting oblivious, falsely over-invested in some movie she can't remember the title of. She hears you move closer before she feels it— the shuffle of your clothes, the stupid jacket rubbing against her couch, so easily forgettable by the time your temple falls on her shoulder.

Ellie's about to fall asleep when she hears the little noise you make, something like a sniffle. For a worrying second she thinks she might’ve given you her cold, but then she feels the tip of your nose brush against her shoulder and she realizes you’re trying to breathe her in. 

“You always smell nice,” you whisper, half asleep.

Ellie swallows and prays to keep her body completely still, scared she’ll make the wrong move and have you pull away, scared you’ll lean closer and be able to hear the fast beating on her chest. She sounds breathy, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Like fresh rain.”

Slow like the roll of credits playing on the TV, Ellie feels how every muscle in her body settles down, relaxed, content— fucking cocky. She wraps her arm around your shoulders and hopes the scent will rub off on the jacket and remind Maya of a cloudy autumn night, rain over her garden.

─────✧･ﾟ: *✧･

THREE!

"Do you think we would've liked each other?" you ask, your legs resting on her lap while she fidgets mindlessly with the ruffled cuff of your socks. Every patrol lately ends the exact same way, a quiet walk home and a joint on Ellie’s couch. "Back when the world was normal?”

Ellie turns to look at you, blinking lazily, a reddish hue over her green. You’re not sure if she's more tired or high, but either way you're not doing much better— everything you’ve said during the past hour is the kind of thought you have when you're alone at night and your brain wanders, moments away from falling asleep. It's a meaningless question, but Ellie lets out a soft hum and thinks about it like it's worth considering. You're not sure if anyone you’ve met in your whole twenty years of life is as willing to indulge you as she is.

"Yeah," she says decidedly, in the same tone with which one would say duh. "We—" a yawn cuts her off, slender hand rubbing one of her eyes. "We would be friends, like, in college."

"I wouldn't be in college.”

Ellie frowns, takes one last inhale and discards the joint to the ashtray on her coffee table. "Why not?"

"'Cause I'm not smart like you," you shrug.

The fold between her eyebrows deepens. "You're smart," she argues, with enough conviction that you almost believe her, insisting, "You are."

"In other ways, sure—” Ellie opens her mouth to interrupt but you get ahead of her, “I’m not trying to talk badly about myself, I just don't think college would be for me.”

You’ve never been the most disciplined. It’s hard to imagine yourself staying up late to study, taking diligent notes in class. It feels ridiculous.

“I’d be working somewhere, I think. Making coffee for people or something.”

Ellie pauses before she nods, adjusting her daydream to what you’re saying, strangely committed. "Then we would meet there,” she makes it sound like the easiest thing in the world, a natural equation. “I'd go get coffee from you."

You chuckle. "You don't even like coffee that much."

Ellie shrugs, soft pink lips curved in a smirk that tells you she's sleepy and serves to warn you of the horror that's about to come out of her mouth.

You groan. “Don't—”

"Maybe I like the pretty girl that's making it."

“Awful,” you push her shoulder away, barely any force behind it, her giggles swimming comfortably around your head. “Never speak again.”

"Not my best work?" she asks, her fingers wrapping lazily around your shin. Too much, her brain warns, but then she remembers the pad of your finger over the back of her hand last night, the cursive lines with no purpose other than to be touching her— and it feels right, or like it's not enough. Too much soon turns to coward.

"Possibly your worst.”

She might be going crazy, but lately Ellie feels like you’re looking at her differently. In your eyes there's something gentle, awaiting, a tracing of your eyes over her face that says please. She chews on her lip, her eagerness painful. “We would like each other,” she doesn't think there's a world where you wouldn't, and if there was… "I'd make you like me."

You raise your eyebrows, teasing, "Oh, so like now?"

Her lips part with genuine surprise, more amused than offended. “...I made you, huh?” 

You regret the joke as soon as it comes out of your mouth, immediately brought back to your fourteen year old self, lonely and admittedly captivated by the auburn haired girl from next door. Flashes of you rushing to catch up with her, untied laces on your too tight sneakers, Ellie, do you wanna be friends? The sound of pages shuffling and her voice reading in whispers in the dead of night because you asked, can you talk to me until I fall asleep? Infatuated from the beginning, obsessed. Even now, on her couch, after spending a whole day together— do you like me? Would you like me, always?

A pillow crashes against the side of her face, her laugh almost louder than the embarrassed pounding of your heart. You pull your legs from her lap and lie back, fold your arms over your face. “You're so annoying.”

A lie so obvious it makes Ellie smile. She shifts to crawl closer, one knee on either side of you. “C’mon, I was joking,” she leans forward and you feel her knuckles tap your arm like she’s knocking on a door. The power to make you shy is still foreign to her, makes her feel drunk, thrilled. She doesn't remember having it before, but of course it was there. In little ways, in daily, simple things. Your eyes always looking for her first in any room, lighting up even after an especially bad pun, tracing her arms when the day becomes too hot to keep her jacket on. You like her, of course. How much time has she been wasting? The breath she lets out feels like it's been waiting to be let go, years spent stuck in her lungs. Ellie wraps her fingers around one of your wrists, her voice sweet, achingly soft. “Want me to tell you why I know I’d like you?”

You lower your arms just slightly, eyes peering up at her.

“Yeah?” she tilts her head.

You nod, arms coming down, unusually quiet.

Ellie grins, victorious. “Okay, but fair warning— it's worse than the coffee thing.”

You chuckle. “Is it?”

“Very.”

“Hm,” you hum, pretending to think about it, distracted by the vision of her practically sitting on top of you. Freckled face framed by the hair that's escaped her usual bun, softly lit by the warmth of the lamp on her desk. “Alright,” you say finally.

It takes Ellie a second to respond, momentarily dazed by the thought of being pretty enough for you to ogle like this. She clears her throat. “You ready?”

You tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear and away from her eyes. “Sure.”

Ellie waits for the nerves to come, but even as she parts her lips to speak, they never do. What a kind fate. “I know I’d like you because nothing’s ever made more sense to me— I’ve been doing it since I was a kid. I like you enough for a million lifetimes.”

You look at each other, bask in a moment of understanding. Your eyes on her lips, a hand on her waist that pulls her closer. “That was worse,” you agree.

Ellie moves to rest on her forearms, cages you in, her nose brushing against yours. “I told you.”

She waits, feels herself count once again, a final time, one, two—

A hand against the back of her neck brings her in and the quiet noise of her surprise vibrates against your lips, makes her smile into the kiss for just a second before the hunger takes over. Her hips readjusting over yours, knees pressing against your sides, Ellie kisses like it's a need rather than a whim. She takes and takes and swallows every sigh you make like it's a gift, four, five, six seconds of a messy trail of kisses down your neck to say thank you before she resurfaces again.

“Love you,” she breathes out, because suddenly all that talk about ‘like’ feels stupid— immature, incomparable to what she actually feels for you. “Need you.”

You moan against her lips and it's her favorite sound in the whole world, immediately, as quick as realizing she would fall in love with you the day she met you. “Love you, Ellie.”

A kiss to your clavicle, your hands pulling at her shirt and her thigh between yours. She makes you say it three more times.

[dstryvampres]

this idea for a one shot came to my mind, so, neil is the type of guy who would invite a reader to show her his collection of anything and wouldn't see any subtext in it "hey why are you naked???" (he finally gives in and she fucks him hard lol)

Drain You

THIS IS SUCH A FUNNY PROMPT !!!! honestly, you’re right he’s just the man to do that.

Pairing: Neil Lewis x Reader

Warnings: smut, p in v, creampie, unprotected sex, neil is stupid, very brief nipple play, Neil bites you like once

Word Count: 1.9k

For weeks you had been trying to hint to Neil Lewis that you were into him, like really into him, and each time he would miss it completely. It seemed to him your weeks of walking into Gumshoe wearing the shortest skirts you owned and bending down in front of him so he could get a glimpse of the panties you picked out that morning, or wearing shirts that show an unnecessary amount of cleavage and then pressing your breasts into Neil meant nothing to him. You thought he would finally get the hint when you went over to his house and picked out a DVD from his porno collection, but he immediately redirected you to some stupid noir film. Neil makes you want to rip your hair out, how can a man miss an opportunity that has essentially been served to him on a silver platter. The most this man has given you has been a makeout session in the back of Gumshoe that stopped before you could even start feeling him up.

So now here you are, standing in front of the mirror applying a final coat of mascara to both of your eyes before Neil shows up in a last ditch effort for him to finally understand that you just want to fuck him. Tonight you plan to make absolutely none of your gestures able to be interpreted as anything other than the burning need for you to be dicked down by the loser who owns the indie DVD rental place.

The doorbell rings.

You rush over to the door to your apartment from your room, almost tripping on the hardwood due to a mix of your speed and socks lack of grip. Patting down the pink, almost see-through, and overly short dress you decided to slip on tonight, before opening the door.

“Hello,” Neil greets, a bottle of red in his hands.

He seemed to not pick-up on the fact that you thought this was a date just by his clothes alone. A Neil classic outfit of a wife pleaser underneath a short sleeve green button-up and jeans, in stark contrast to your own outfit curated to make yourself irresistible. It was nothing offensive, but it wasn’t like he was going out of his way to look his best tonight either, coming in the clothes he likely wore to work today. 

“Come in,” you say, moving over to the side and prying the door open a little more.

Neil takes your invite, slipping off his shoes before looking around. Taking in your apartment like he hasn’t been here before.

“I’m always amazed by how you keep your place so clean,” Neil jokes, following you into your living room.

“Thank you,” you purr, taking the bottle of red from him and placing it on the coffee table, extending yourself a little more than needed in order to expose the bottom of your ass to him.

You want to pounce on Neil as you catch him, out of the corner of your eye, staring at your ass as he drops himself onto your couch. Instead you settle on sitting right beside him, pressing yourself up against his side.

“Do you still have that new wave film I brought here last time?” Neil asks.

Fuck, he just can’t get a hint.

“I think so.” You do not want to watch that stupid fucking new wave film.

“Perfect!” Neil cheers, “Can you go get it? I’ll pour us some wine.”

You turn your head and frown before getting up and going through your DVD collection. Honestly at this rate you’re not even sure if Neil has a sex drive, all he ever wants to do is watch movies and talk about them. If this was any other man you would’ve already had your panties around your ankles. There it is. You insert it into the DVD player and walk back over to the couch, situating yourself a tiny bit further from Neil than before. He doesn’t seem to care, wine glass in his hand, taking a small sip before setting it down.

“This film is really amazing, it details a young criminal waiting out in Paris for fate to catch up with him,” Neil starts as the opening sequence starts up. You barely listen to the rest of his rambling, too focused on the way his lips form the words than the actual words. 

Eventually Neil shuts up, just smiling at you for a couple seconds before turning his attention towards the film. You do the same, not like you care at all for anything being said. The whole things in French and you’re way too hot and bothered by the build up of wanting to be fucked for weeks on end to read the captions. The movie is boring, and you don’t understand anything, resorting to entertaining yourself by drinking and ogling Neil. You have to fuck this man tonight, or you’re sure you’ll go crazy.

“Neil,” you whine out halfway through the film, only earning a hum in response. “I want to show you something in my room, I was going to do it later but…”

“Yeah? We can do that. Like now or after the movie is done?” Neil asks, turning his attention to you.

“Now.”

You get up, grabbing Neil’s hand and leading him over to your bedroom. You let go of his hand as soon as you step into your bedroom, already feeling your wetness on your thighs.

“What did you want to show me?” Neil asks, smiling a little bit. He’s so stupid.

“Look at the bookshelf behind you,” you suggest.

He actually turns around, looking at the trinkets, books, and CDs you have accumulating on your shelves. Maybe he comments on the vast amount of objects you have gathered in your room, you don’t really care all that much as you slip your dress and bra off.

“What in particular did you want to show-” Neil turns around, cutting himself off as he finds you bare beside your lacy pink panties and socks. “Why are you naked?”

Neil’s eyes rake over your body with hesitation, taking everything in slowly. By the time his eyes reach your panties he audibly gulps. You can't help but smile, slowly walking over to him and placing his hand over your clothed cunt.

“Neil, I want you to fuck me,” you state, looking into his eyes. His pupils, already wide from both how dimly lit the room is and also from your previous actions, grow once again.

He stands there, dumbfounded, before diving in to kiss you. Lips pressing onto yours, as he pushes you back into your bed. He slips his tongue into your mouth as his hands find your breasts, massaging them gently. He moans into your mouth, hips rutting into yours. You feel his hard-on straining inside of his jeans. You rake your nails on his clothed back, causing him to hiss out slightly.

You reach down to take off Neil’s wife pleaser, having to break away from the kiss to fully get both the button-up and wife pleaser off. Reaching your hands out over his chest to finally feel his bare skin, then bringing him down into a kiss to press his bare chest into yours. The sensation making you moan out. Neil takes the small break from your lips to trail kisses down your neck towards your breasts. Leaving feather light kisses in between your breasts before, trailing over to one of your nipples. He laps his tongue over the bud before slipping it into his mouth and sucking on it. You sigh out, lacing your fingers into his hair and wrapping your legs around his waist.

“I’ve waited so long, please, just touch me,” you sigh out, bucking your hips up into Neil’s.

Neil detaches his lips from your nipple, the remaining spit heightening the chill of the air causing you to whine out. He kisses down from your breasts to just above your panties, hooking his finger into the lining and dragging it down your hips. He hums at the sight of your cunt, slick and warm, just for him. Kissing your clit before stepping away and taking off his pants and boxers. His cock springs out, slapping his stomach. It's not the biggest cock you’ve had, but it’s still above average and, if you might add, quite cute. You don’t get much time to admire his dick before he’s climbing on top of you and leading you back into another heated, sloppy kiss.

Neil gathers your wetness up on the tip of his cock, slipping his tip up and down your folds teasingly. It’s not like he knows just how long you’ve been waiting for him to finally fuck you(3 weeks and 2 days to be exact), but he could spare the teasing just for a second. You whine out, moving so the tip of his cock catches on the sopping wet opening to your cunt. Just that alone is enough for you to moan out and clench around nothing, digging your nails into his biceps.

Neil breaks away from the kiss, lining up his cock with your cunt, and watches himself push into you. You could cum just from the initial intrusion alone, having to squeeze your eyes shut and bite your lip to stop yourself from doing so.

“You take me so well baby,” Neil whispers, coming back to leave sloppy open mouthed kisses on your neck.

Neil pulls out before pushing in again. Fuck, is loser cock good. It was worth listening to all that useless, benign movie knowledge for three weeks for this. His cock stretches you out, wide. Everytime he pulls out of you so he can push back in, you can feel your insides pulse with desire. When he pushes into you, his cock rubs along the sweet spot in your cunt, making you whine out with each thrust. 

Neil’s hands come back to your nipples, taking turns tweaking and pinching them as he fucks into you. Your eyes roll back into your skull as he starts to speed up.

“I can’t believe I waited this long to fuck you,” Neil whines out, his breath tickling the juncture of your neck.

You’re telling me.

Neil’s hands trace down from your breasts to your hips, stabling himself out with his grip there before increasing the speed of his thrusts. He’s going to cum soon if the erratic pace of his thrusts is anything to go off of. He leads one of his hands down to your clit, tracing circles into the nerve with his thumb. 

“Where can I cum?” Neil asks, breath hitching briefly.

“Inside,” you moan out, wrapping your arms around him to claw at his back.

Neil mumbles a quick fuck under his breath, before biting down on your neck.

In mere seconds you're cumming around his cock. Letting out a loud moan, clawing into Neil’s back so hard you’re surprised he doesn’t start bleeding. He follows shortly after, burying himself balls deep into you before spurting his hot cum inside of you. You squeeze his cock with your velvety walls, milking his cock, before you’re both finally coming down from your highs.

Neil pulls out of your cunt, and drops down on the bed beside you. His cum dribbles out of your cunt, but it seems you are both too spent to care. Neil lightly brushes some hair out of your face before pulling you into him.

“I’ve been trying to get you to fuck me for over a month,” you say, closing your eyes and burying yourself into Neil’s chest.

“Really!? I thought you were just being friendly with me, and cared about the movies I showed you,” Neil says, genuine shock in his voice.

You start to laugh, because you never thought a man could be so oblivious. Neil eventually starts laughing too. Both of you are now laughing at just how clueless Neil is.

taglist: @paradiseprincesss @luluartpop

[theocddiaries]

Shadow: How’s Tails? Any better? Sonic: No. Ever since he had that nightmare about the tooth fairy, he’s been a nervous wreck. I can’t leave his side. Shadow: Hm. Sonic, when was the last time you spent time with your brother? One on one. Sonic: I took him to the dentist on Tuesday. Shadow: I mean doing something fun. Sonic: Hey, he had a blast scolding the dentist for having outdated magazines. …Okay. I don’t know, I saw him doing his own thing, and he’s not a little kid anymore, so I just gave him some space. But you might be right. I’ll talk to him. Tails! Can you come here for a second? [Tails comes out of his room with a broom and a tranquilizer gun, scanning the room before sitting on the couch, still on guard. Shadow and Sonic exchange a worried glance.] Sonic: Okay, buddy… [takes the gun from him]: Give me that. Look, I got the message. Tomorrow we’ll do whatever you want and I’ll make your favorite food, and we’ll have a sleepover. We’ll spend the whole day together. But please, drop the tooth fairy nonsense. Tails: It’s not nonsense, she’s really here! Sonic: Tails, I’m really sorry I made you feel abandoned. [From the hallway, Knuckles appears wearing a grotesque papier-mâché head with crudely drawn facial features, a disheveled wig under a tattered veil. He looks both ways before slipping into the bathroom.] Tails [screaming and pointing]: Aaah! There she is! There she is! [Shadow and Sonic turn, but Knuckles is already gone.] Sonic: Tails, there’s nothing there. Shadow: Okay, how about this? I’ll go spend a week with Rouge so you two can spend time together like old times. Tails: I don’t give a damn about your life, you egomaniac! There’s a lunatic in the house who wants to rip my teeth out! Aaaaaaaaah! There she is again! [Knuckles comes out of the bathroom, scratching his head in confusion. He heads toward the kitchen.] Sonic: Tails-- Tails: Look, look that way, please! [Sonic rolls his eyes and turns around.] Sonic: Tails, pal, there’s nothing. Tails: Yes, there is! She hides right when you look! She’s evil! Shadow: Kid, enough, okay? Your brother and I aren’t playing along anymore-- [Knuckles walks into the living room and taps Sonic on the shoulder while Shadow talks. Sonic turns around, sees him, and starts screaming along with Tails.] Sonic: Aaaaah! She’s real! Shadow: You aren't help-- Damn it! Tails: I told you! [shoves Shadow before running out]: Take him instead! [runs out of the house screaming] Knuckles: Hey, calm down, it’s me!!! Sonic: Knuckles? Knuckles: Help me get the head off, it’s stuck. Shadow [removes it after a few tries]: What the hell do you think you're doing?? Knuckles: Me? Bringing back the magic for Tails. Shadow: How? By haunting him dressed like La Llorona? Knuckles: No, I’m the tooth fairy. Sonic: That's great, because you’re gonna need new teeth when I knock yours out, you idiot! The kid’s terrified! He hasn’t slept in three days, he’s more owl than fox at this point because of you! Shadow: Look, you’re going to tell Tails it was you pulling one of your dumb stunts. Knuckles: I can't tell him. That’s like Superman admitting he’s Spider-Man. It ruins the magic. Shadow: What magic? You’ve got a serious problem with language. That costume causes a lot of things: disgust, unease, terror, but magic ain’t one of them! Sonic: I spent countless hours editing VHS tapes and DVDs so the kid could watch Bambi without the mother’s death scene, and you traumatized him in one night. First and last time you scare him like this! And especially the last time you mention the stupid tooth fairy! Knuckles: Stupid tooth fairy? Well, then, let’s call Santa Claus ‘fat bastard’ and Kermit the Frog ‘amphibian jerk’ while we’re at it! There's no values anymore! Bitter losers! [storms off] Sonic: Unbelievable… Knuckles [comes back]: Sorry, guys, I lost my head. Sonic: Thank you. Knuckles: Hm? No, I mean literally, I lost the head for my costume… Oh wait, here it is. [picks it up]: So, screw you both, Grumpy and Grumpier.

[double--blind]

(SPOILERS) Ashley, self-esteem, and starvation

So, I adore Ashley. She's this intensely toxic, vicious, cruel, manipulative girl, and her psychology gives me hella brainworms. Andrew's not the only one whose head I wanna crack open and root around lol. She's thrown away the world just to keep her brother by her side, and she'll continue to do worse and worse for the same reason. She's pretty awful! I've been thinking about why, though. How did things get so bad? How did her soul get so dark?

We don't know everything (I'm waiting for those new eps patiently aND CLAWING AT THE WALLS AND FROTHING AT THE MOUTH but whatevs y'know whatevs I'm normal. I'm fine), yet what information we have been given is bumping around my brain like a DVD screensaver on hyperdrive

It's clear from the start that the roots of Ashley's issues lie in her horrible, neglectful upbringing, but it's hinted that even those outside of her family felt the same abt her. I'm lowkey even betting we'll learn later on that she was ostracized by her peers somehow. However, what's most disconcerting, I believe, is how little she was when the results of this alienation are first made apparent to us (bc kids aren't dumb; they notice this stuff oftentimes instinctively, impossibly young, before they even know what it means to be hated), and how devastating the consequences were.

(There's something decidedly childish abt her dream sequence in the "questionable" route—filled with crayon scribbles and rabbit plushies, the metaphors simplistic yet profound—which really hammers in how these sentiments are things that have made a home in her since childhood. Formative subconscious truths.)

Growing up unloved and noticeably unwanted by virtually everyone around her likely left her with a gaping hole in her heart that she'd spend the rest of her life trying to fill. She'd make friends, but she'd always worry that they'd leave her, that they'd betray her, nothing tangible or weighted enough in their connection to trust in its persistence. Why should she expect otherwise? Not even being bound by familial ties ensures affection if her parents are any indication.

Every lesson she'd ever learned had always taught her this: you are easy to abandon. You cannot love and be loved by virtue of your own worth.

You have to rip their affection from their clenched hands if you want it so bad.

This understanding carries with it an undercurrent of degradation, instilling within Ashley a constant, biting inferiority complex which will never fail to be a source of insecurity. She will always be put last. She was difficult to raise, so her parents gave up on raising her. She was difficult to get along with, so her friends gave up on getting along with her.

It's an odd cycle. She's difficult bc she needs to be to get attention, but bc she's difficult, she can't keep it. Not without having whatever fondness she's managed to cultivate within someone fray at the seams, volatile and prone to collapse, bleeding toxicity.

Hence, her relationship w/Andrew.

By being the only reliable constant in her life, caring for her and keeping her company, Andrew essentially became her only source of happiness, and she's since learned not to bother with anyone else. Still, it's dangerous to keep all your eggs in one basket; since he is all she has, she must protect her place in his life with even greater ferocity, which becomes a torturous ordeal when coupled with her damaged self-esteem.

It's apparent in her quarrels with Andrew that she needs constant reassurance that she is wanted in some capacity or perceived in some positive light (getting pouty when Andrew says he's "stuck with her", needing to hear that she's pretty, needing him to "choose her", wanting him to say he loves her back, etc. etc.), yet her insecurity remains, bc unlike her, he's got options. She doesn't think he needs her like she needs him. He's got a gf, their parents love him, her friends love him. Why would he settle for her? What if someone better comes along? Someone she can't scare away?

Wouldn't he just leave her like everyone else?

Even before getting locked in the coffin of their apartment, starvation's been a constant theme in Ashley's life. She's constantly aching for love, and Andrew's the only one who can feed her. When you're forced to fight for a bite to eat or suffer every moment you hunger, you become ravenous—covetous—when faced with food; you don't want the hunger to return, so you lock down the source of your sustenance, wary of its retreat. Ashley's in a permanent state of intense insecurity, always anxious that the love that gives her life will leave her.

Andrew knows Ashley better than anyone else in the world, and it's obvs to everyone and him how desperate Ashley is for him, but I don’t think Andrew has truly, consciously processed the depth of that desperation. It's there buried in his head somewhere no doubt, but rn, he doesn't operate w/the direct awareness that he is everything. He is brother, mother, friend, and soulmate. He is life and love, air and water, everything that is good in the world—everything that there is to justify existence.

It's heartbreaking, in a way, that it's so difficult for Andrew to convince her of his loyalty. This goes further than his tendency to hide his true feelings, bc when push comes to shove, he's at her beck and call. Objectively, he's hers. She doesn't see that bc all she sees is all the ways she can lose him.

So, she gets bratty. She gets pushy, possessive, territorial. Manipulative. Gets under his skin, guilts him to exhaustion, bc she can't see him staying any other way, bc he doesn't get it, bc it works. He bends to her will, for her sake. For now. It's always "for now", bc he'll start slipping away again, and then it'll get worse. She does worse.

Becomes worse.

[rafeysbafey]

⭒𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐬⭒

⭒𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲. 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞

⭒𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐰𝐛𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐣𝐞𝐫𝐤, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

⭒𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭. 𝟖𝟒𝟔

you curled your legs into your chest and laid on your side, wishing nothing more but for the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

your period decided to grace its presence a week early this morning, red staining your new comforter and sharp pains carving your insides into shreds.

your phone pinged from beside you, followed by another.

groaning, you reached for the device before unlocking it.

message from: rafe

'want 2 cum over?'

you cringed at his wording that, any other day, would have made you laugh and make your way over. but all you wanted to do was, well, vomit.

message from: rafe

'u alive?'

how charming.

you tossed your phone across your bed and smushed your face into the pillow, screaming into the plush material as your stomach doubled into knots.

"yo."

your eyes fluttered open to the sound of a man's voice, rafe's voice.

there he was. standing in your room.

"r-rafe?" you mumbled, forcing yourself to sit up as you wiped the sleep from your eyes.

"how the hell did you get in here?"

"the window," he said in a 'matter of fact tone.'

rafe had snuck through your window multiple times in order to avoid your parents, but what he didn't know was that they were out of town for a couple days.

"why weren't you responding to my texts?" he asked, breaking the silence as you noticed him staring at your phone discarded to the side.

"rafe, i'm really not in the mood for your dick in me right now- so if you could so kindly leave-"

"since when did you not want to fuck?" he laughed, eyes squinting in disbelief as you groaned loudly, another cramp hitting your stomach like a truck.

"since blood decided to gush out of my lady parts this morning," you snapped.

rafe was always an ass, but you were not in the mood for bantering.

his eyes widened for a second before dropping, his pupils softening at now realizing your uncomfortable state.

"at least you aren't pregnant," he chuckled, nose scrunching as he shrugged his shoulders.

oh you could sock him right in the face.

"fuck off, rafe," you spat, throwing your pillow at his body but unfortunately he dogged it.

you gave him the finger before rolling over and yanking the covers over your body.

you heard him mumble something under his breath before leaving your room, this time through the door.

you would have cried from his reaction, hormones speaking, but your body was exhausted.

"wake up."

was that rafe, again?

"rafe, what did i say?" you groaned, rolling over dramatically and pulling the blanket down, "i don't want to have sex-"

now wasn't that a sight.

rafe cameron standing in your room with a grocery bag and heating pad.

"calm down, i come in peace," he says, placing the bag next to you before kicking off his shoes and moving to sit in front of you.

"is that chocolate?" you asked, taking out a bar before grabbing another. and another.

"i didn't know which one, so i got options," he raised his hands in defense, "didn't need you ripping my head off."

you couldn't help but laugh quietly, a smile forming on your lips as you mumbled a thank you.

"rom-com?" you asked, eyebrows raised as you inspected the DVD case you pulled from the bag.

he cleared his throat before scratching the back of his neck.

"you're the weirdo who enjoys them."

"hey!" you gasped, smacking him with the case before tossing it to the side.

"well this weirdo is about to watch this movie, so don't think you need to stay here hostage," you said, watching his eyes soften as he bit the inside of his mouth.

"i'll go heat up the heating pad."

you don’t know how you got into this situation.

cuddling with your fuck buddy—his arm wrapped around your waist and legs tangled together, your hands in a bowl of popcorn mixed with m&ms.

the corny rom-con played across the tv, rafe not paying much attention as he kept stealing glances at you.

“feeling better?” he asked, voice soft as he squeezed your waist.

you turned to look at him, a small smile on his face as he raised an eyebrow.

“not really,” you sighed, giving him a teasing smile as he hummed.

“really?” he asked, face only inches away from yours as his minty breath fanned over your lips.

before you could answer, rafe closed the gap to connect his soft lips with yours.

you’ve kissed rafe multiple times, granted it’s been during more intimate moments—but this time felt different.

he was slow, and caring. he was gentle with you.

his hand caressing the side of your face as if you were made of glass, the complete opposite of how he would in bed.

he pulled away for a second, blue eyes locking with yours—the only noise being the movie in the background.

“what about now?”

you bit your bottom lip, eyes closing for a second as you hummed…thinking.

“let’s try again.”

[kawaiiblossoms04]

Namaste, lovelies!

Welcome to a premium, 4 course meal of filth—served hot, messy, and extra unholy. It's been a minute since I blessed y'all with a long one-shot, so I hope it hits the spot (pun absolutely intended).

If y'all have requests, drop them—I might just indulge your depravity. I love a good Side-Quest. But DO NOT, under any circumstances, ask me to write about Choso.

That man is built like a greasy gas station attendant who just lost his last brain cell huffing diesel fumes behind a dumpster.  He literally looks like he bathes in sink water and air-dries by sitting on the curb outside a McDonald's to steal Wi-Fi.

Y'all try to romanticize him, but let's be real—he looks like he pays for coochie with pocket lint, a half-smoked Black & Mild, and fake Gucci bags he snatched from someone guy on the corner.

And if y'all INSIST on requesting Choso? Oh, I'll write it. But you're not getting mysterious, brooding, misunderstood Choso. Nope.

You're getting cracked-out (not coke, it's simply way out of the manz price range), half-homeless, definitely-on-a-watchlist Choso, posted up outside a 7-11, begging for change, offering half a cold-ass McNugget in exchange for a puff off a Newport and possibly selling bootleg DVDs from the early 2000.

And if I write that? Oh, it'll be nasty. Apocalyptic. Y'all aren't ready for the biblical plague of filth I'd unleash.

*Finished serving your hors d'oeuvre 🧆*

Unfortunately you may not skip the appetizer as the chef is still preparing the main course. 👩‍🍳

-

Now, onto Gojo's slander. *Your appetizer 🫕*

The narcissistic scammer with main character syndrome.

Listen. I was THIS close to sparing him, but then I remembered that he looks like the type to say "It's giving..." unironically.

This man smells like Dior Sauvage, heartbreak, and unpaid child support.

Y'all think Gojo's fine, and I get it. He's got the pretty privilege and the cocky charm. But let's be real—he's one bad day away from becoming a male prostitute.

You know this man doesn't do laundry. He just grabs shit out the hamper, sniffs it, sprays it with Febreze, and keeps it pushing.

You think he has a skincare routine? Nah. That's sheer genetics working overtime, because you know damn well he's washing his face with the same 3-in-1 body wash he uses for his hair, ass, and balls.

His diet? Strictly Red Bull, convenience store sushi, and the audacity to hit up any woman expecting a home-cooked plate.

Do NOT let this man lie to you. He would absolutely hit you with "Damn, that's crazy" mid-argument, gaslighting you and then change the subject to himself.

You think he's romantic? You think he dates women? He'd date you?

Ma'am, honey, sugar. Come closer.

No.

This man is in a committed relationship with his own reflection. I bet he stares at himself in the mirror for so long that his own reflection gets tired of his shit.

If Gojo had a choice between saving you from a burning building or saving his sunglasses, you're getting left for dead, bestie.

And just in case you survive? He's posting an "RIP, gone too soon 😔" IG story with your best selfie before you even make it to the ER.

And once he realized you made it out unscathed.

I just KNOW this man be squinting at himself, licking his lips, and rubbing his chin like he's in a 90s R&B music video... plottin... thinking about how to get with you while he's still laid up in another woman's bed.

He'll comment 'gorgeous 🥰' on your post, but THEN have the audacity to say 'But like...your foundation a little off tho 👀 just lookin' out for you'—like Sir, was that necessary? Just say I look good and go.

And don't even get me started on his financial decisions. He's the kind of man to own multiple luxury watches but still Zelle request you for $2.79 because you added an extra drink to the bill while he was in the restroom on a date.

He calls himself "Daddy" but has never been on time for a single commitment in his life.

And yet, somehow, he can still fuck.

But let's be clear—it's not because he's skilled. It's because he has the stamina of a hyperactive golden retriever and is too competitive to accept anything less than you sobbing and tapping out.

Sex with Gojo is a high-intensity cardio session. No breaks, no mercy. You're screaming into the mattress and he's grinning like he won a championship.

And if you try to catch your breath? He's smirking down at you, "Aww, you tired already? I thought you said you could handle me?"

He gets you to cum like six times out of sheer spite.

You're trembling, half-dead, legs useless, and he's standing over you, sipping Gatorade, flexing his abs in the mirror.

And the worst part? The dick is so good you still let him stay over.

Why? Girl you tell me? 🤨📸

Gojo would clown you all night, raw dog you into the fifth dimension, rearrange your guts with no instructions, and then the moment he sees you texting someone else—suddenly he's in his feelings.

He's hovering over your shoulder like, "Who's that? 😐"

He's side-eyeing your phone like, "Oh, so you just be entertaining everybody, huh? 🤨"

He's laying in your bed, butt ass naked ,sweaty, looking like he just won something, but now he's on his side, fiddling with the hem of the blanket, hitting you with that soft ass, "Sooooo... what are we?" 👀

Sir. YOU JUST HAD ME SPEAKING IN TONGUES AND NOW YOU WANNA BE SHY?! 😭

He just gave you the best dick of your life, had you limp and re-evaluating your life choices, but now he's laying there with his little pretty ass eyelashes fluttering, pouting like a child, waiting for validation.

You say, "Uhhh we chillin?" and now he's deep sighing, rolling onto his back, staring at the ceiling like he's in a dramatic movie scene.

Then the next day, he posting himself lip-syncing 'Doing It Wrong' by Drake.

Like boy, if you don't—! 😭

Look...I'm sorry, but this man would be pacing in his penthouse at 2 AM, blasting Bryson Tiller, waiting for YOU to text first. Just EXTRA Light Skin, standing there, shirtless, arms crossed, staring out the window while it's raining overthinking...

He got every sad boy song on repeat, texting Nanami, “Bro... I think I love her.”

You KNOW Nanami left him on read or hit him with a "...Gojo, go to sleep."

Meanwhile, you’re sleeping peacefully, and this man is wide awake, staring at the ceiling, hand on his chest like he’s at his own funeral.

Then next week, he's talking about 'high-value men' and 'feminine energy' on his new Red Pill podcast. Talking about how these modern women don’t deserve him.

I could drag him all day, but I won't lie on his dick. And the only reason this manz makes it into my fanfics is because he actually keeps his ass clean... and possibly waxed.

Ok, ummm...I think I'm done 🤭... maybe. Blame the peach Celsius and coffee.

Anyways. I hope your palate is ready for the main course. Because ya girl is cooking up something spicy 🌶️😈

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

Korn - Freak On A Leash

[kisscara]

pity party [scaramouche x gn!reader] ⎯⎯ modern au, minor angst, fluff

scaramouche claimed he's never come to care about his birthday. anymore, at least. since kindergarten and every other grade after that, not a single person cared to show up when they were invited. he clearly remembers sitting at the dinner table, party hat atop his head seemingly drooping in the sad setting of the room.

but there was another thing. he always invited the whole class, except for one person. there were a lot of rumors about you and scaramouche wanted to stay as far away from you as possible so that his classmates wouldn't mistaken him for being your friend. it'd completely ruin his image.

however, on scaramouche's eighteenth birthday, he wondered what would happen should he invite you. of course, he'll slide invitations in the lockers of the rest of his peers, but just like before, they probably wouldn't care to come. it didn't even matter if they didn't have a gift, just their presence alone would put scaramouche over the moon.

and so, he waited in the living room. every now and then, he'd play video games on his phone, hoping to wait out the arrival of his peers much more quicker but in reality, he was trying to get his birthday over with.

suddenly, the sound of the doorbell going off caused him to sit up from his slouching position. could it be? scaramouche tossed his phone aside and practically ran to the front door. he swung it open and his heart began doing somersaults in his chest.

you awkwardly stood there, waiting for him to speak up. when he didn't say anything, you took it upon yourself to engage the conversation. "happy birthday, scaramouche." you presented your wrapped gift for him with a smile. he idly stood, frozen as you placed the gift in his hands.

you welcomed yourself inside of his home, and that's when he finally snapped out of his trance. "that took me a lot of time to wrap, so i'd appreciate it if you viciously ripped it apart when i leave," you playfully commented. scaramouche carefully put your gift on the table in the dining room and a grin tugged at the corner of his lips.

"this is a big occasion, isn't it? after all, you're finally an adult." you sat on the couch and scaramouche joined you. "um, yeah. listen, we haven't properly met before, right?" he asked. you murmured, "mhm, i figured you were avoiding me like everyone else." at that, scaramouche tensed up.

you burst into a fit of laughter, "c'mon, i'm just kidding! what's with the serious look?" scaramouche relaxed his shoulders in relief. his first party guest and he nearly screwed it over. you grinned, "i'm (name). they don't really like me just because... you know what, i don't know either but hey,"

you took a party hat from the table and placed it on your head. "i didn't know eighteen year olds still held birthday parties like this," you giggle, to which scaramouche replied in a flustered frenzy, "my mom put those out!" you laugh, "i get it. by the way, do you like horror movies?" scaramouche looked to the side.

"my mom still has me on a netflix kids account and she gets notified whenever i try making a purchase using my credit card..." scaramouche covered his face in embarrassment. you leaned against the couch, "you too, huh?" scaramouche looked up from his hands to glance at you.

has celestia sent down an angel for him?

you waved around a few dvd cases that came from your bag, "i used my friend's money to get these. i obviously paid them back." you stood up and crouched down in front of the dvd player on the tv set. "you ever watch a nightmare on elm street, poltergeist, scream, halloween... any of the classics at all?"

scaramouche shook his head and you flashed him a smile, "great, me neither!"

that evening, scaramouche lost track of time marathoning horror movies with you. the two of you ate the snacks from his dining room and hid under a big blanket, all of the lights turned off to set the right mood. he was grateful that you didn't question where the rest of the guests were, not once.

you tightened the grip on your popcorn bowl and scaramouche intently watched the screen. "i can't look," you squealed, covering your eyes. scaramouche couldn't help but let out a chuckle. he had a feeling that if he were watching horror movies alone, he'd be looking away as well. but he wouldn't miss this for the world.

suddenly, the front door slammed open and you and him shouted in unison. you fell off of the couch and scaramouche looked over. "oh, it's much too dark in here, it's bad for your eyes," ei tutted, turning on the light. she tilted her head, "kuni, who's that, dear?"

scaramouche gritted his teeth, "i'm busy, mom-" ei gasped, "is this a party guest?" she started giggling, "i expected this birthday to be like the rest but i'm glad you found a worthy friend, kuni! i'll be in my room, okay? don't stay up too late, you two!" you sat back down on the couch and exclaimed, "thank you, miss!"

the second scaramouche heard ei's bedroom door close, he turned the lights back off. "sorry about her," scaramouche muttered. the movie served as pure background noise as you remarked, "she seems sweet. where was she the whole time, work?" scaramouche mumbled, "yeah, runs a business."

your pupils dilated, "really? that's so cool, no wonder you have a ton of friends." scaramouche froze up from where he was sitting next to you. friends. in class, they'll act like his friends, but it's like they're strangers the second they step outside of the school grounds. i mean, they don't even go to his birthday parties.

"mhm." he rested his chin in his palm, "after this, are you going to pretend we don't know each other in class, just like before?" you perk up in surprise. "why would i? i have a new friend now ⎯ ah wait, i don't even know if it's mutual," you nervously corrected yourself with a sheepish smile.

scaramouche's porcelain complexion flushed red. "you... want to be my friend?" he asked in a small voice. "definitely! you're funner than i took you for, scaramouche!" you happily comment before tossing another popcorn into your mouth.

"okay. let's be friends, (name)." scaramouche gave you a smile and you smiled back. he looked at the television set. "by the way, funner isn't a word," he said. you complained, "is too!" scaramouche laughed. for the first time ever, he genuinely laughed with a friend.

a half hour later, you checked your phone's notifications. "oh, i got to go, my mom's car is outside." you quickly gathered your things and put on your shoes. scaramouche solemnly watched as you reached for the doorknob. "hey," at your call, he looked up from the floor.

"you can keep the dvds, i'll come back another time to get them. you can watch the rest without me or wait 'til i'm free. got it?" you winked at him and scaramouche lightly chuckled, "yeah, i'll wait for you." you waved, "thanks for the great night, scara! i'll see you at school tomorrow!"

and the front door shut with a click.

scaramouche's gaze caught your gift on the table. he made his way over and began to delicately unwrap it. he read the sticky note on the box, word for word. 'happy 18th birthday, scaramouche!! i don't know you too well, but i sewed this up myself. i hope you like it ♡'

scaramouche removed the top of the box and his eyes lit up. a felt doll that looked just like him. with caution, he took it out of the box, feeling as if he'd ruin this precious treasure so easily if he wasn't careful. he held it to his chest and sighed in content.

from that point on, he looks forward to his birthday, all because of one person.

© kisscara

[cynicalruins]

So a while ago I got this mysterious Kohei Murakami DVD from 2004 second hand for cheap, couldn't find any info on it but I think it's a specific genre of DVD? Not very knowledgeable on the ikemen market.... Bought it anyways bc I like mr Murakami very much and I just had to find out wtf he was gonna be doing for 50 mins

it came with a small photo booklet, and since I'm obsessed with scanning everything i own for posterity, here it is below

and here's the other side of the cover, which i have to admit jumpscared me a bit since I wasn't expecting to open the case and find him staring right at me

As for the contents of the DVD itself? It was essentially segments of him doing fuckall (sexily) for about 2 mins, interrupted by brief intermissions where he does a comedy duo sketch with himself in a different outfit, and a few angsty music videos sprinkled in (unfortunately, they did not let him sing)

Highlights include:

him holding a showerhead like a phone (epic faiz reference)

FORZA MILAN

and him holding a toy raygun to his head

in conclusion: it was fun and bizarre, felt both 100% genuine and like a parody of itself, I now understand even more why he's best friends with Toshiki Inoue

and uhh I guess if anyone really wants to see the video itself and can't find a copy i can try ripping it? Feel free to send me a message or smth

[mask131]

I have been trying to make this post for a long time now... But I kept pushing it off again and again, because I thought if I made it I would be ripped to pieces by Tumblr's wild beasts. Now that the Gaiman accusations appeared (and that older cases were dug up), I have to admit I had a selfish little sigh of relief because I thought I could finally make this post... But then I quickly realized upon seeing all the misinformation and "hot takes" people were sharing around that my post might potentially get support just because it is against Gaiman's work... And I don't want that either because it is just my opinion about an adaptation and a TV series, and it has nothing to do with the crimes talked about currently. This is why I won't tag it "Neil Gaiman".

So I will make this post, but be warned, I had this opinion this the release of season 1 so it's old news. Now that the disclaimer is out of the way here is my opinion:

I do not like the Good Omens series.

Shocking reveal, isn't it? I have never hidden that Good Omens is one of my favorite novels ever. Heck it was because of Good Omens that I decided to give a shot to Gaiman's works, because before I just rolled my eyes at stuff like Coraline and was a dedicated Pratchett fanboy. Good Omens the book was a big part of my life, and I still love dearly this book - I am still a bit pissed off that people forget it wasn't all Gaiman, it was Pratchett too.

But I am not surprised people think it so... because of the series. The show adaptation. Which I do not actually like. In fact, I think I posted a bit about this when season 1 was over, and then I just shut myself silent because the show-fans of GO were just annoying and irritating to me. And one of their irritating trait was to completely erase or forget about Pratchett's involvment, and only praise and talk and refer to Gaiman as the sole creator of Good Omens which is... deeply infuriating.

I did not even watch season 2. I don't know what it is about, I just know the plot of episode 1, and that's literaly it. I don't know who are the characters of season 2, what is its plot, what is its twists... Never had interest to watch it, never bothered. Why? Well two reasons.

Reason A: Season 1 did not really made me giggle with glee or smile with happiness or cheer with enthusiasm. The announcement did, the pre-release pictures and promos did, the first episodes did... But by the end of season 1 I was just... "Okay? That's it? I guess... it's nice. I prefer the book though." Yes, they tried to stay faithful to the novel, yes they paid heavy homage to Pratchett, yes I understand why so many people loved it... and yet I am amazed at how different the show is from the novel. Because despite being faithful in the portions it adapts... the show removes a LOT from the original novel. It has been explained as budget cuts, unfinished post-productions, time constraint, the limits of a TV show... some of the deleted scenes are bonus in the DVDs, some only exist in the official script, some never reached the script stage at all...

But here's the thing: by removing these parts, the creators of the show made a story that isn't at all the novel. And as a result, when chatting with fans of the show, I ended up realizing we had a "deaf dialogue" as we didn't speak of the same story or the same characters. Take for example the addition of an entire episode dedicated to the backstory of Crowley and Aziraphale. Not bad in idea, very enjoyable for a fan of the Good Omens world... but very detrimental in the scope of interpreting the story. Because this, and the big advertisement around these characters, and the big stars put in their role, and the TV guides and reviews description always starting with "An angel and a demon on earth"... It led everybody to think "Good Omens" is a story about Aziraphale and Crowley. That they are the main characters, the protagonists, and everybody is a side-character.

THEY'RE NOT! Yes they are one of the protagonists - ONE of the protagonists. Yes they appear on the covers, it doesn't mean it is a story about them. It is a story about Adam, and Adam is, for example, as much a protagonist of the story as Crowley and Aziraphale. Another noticeable change: the novel ends with Adam, because it opens with his birth (well, not immediately, but it is the main big event of the opening of the novel) and thus is concluded with him. In the show they end with Crowley and Aziraphale, and a bonus section AGAIN pulling the plot by the side of the duo. GO the novel is very Pratchettian in its structure and handling of the characters - it is a traditional "early Discworld" style of storytelling, almost like a traditional Russian novel, where you have a lot of characters leading separate but linked storylines, and it blurs the line between who is the "protagonist" and who is just a "secondary character" as there is no real central focus outside of the story itself, which is the narrative lead instead of a specific character.

Results? Now everybody thinks GO is primarily and firstly a romance between an angel and a demon. When in fact the original novel is, first and foremost, about a parody of the Apocalypse and about the displacement of an Antichrist - displacement of which Crowley and Aziraphale are the most active agents, but it doesn't make them the sole protagonists of the story. This is why the announcing of season 2 made me lose interest: I could have bought new Crowley and Aziraphale adventures... but without Newt, Anathema, Shadwell, the Horsepersons of the Apocalypse, Adam and the Them? They were placing their bets on new characters invented for the show that I had never heard about, so of course it did not interest me.

(I also STRONGLY defend the idea that the novel Crowley-Aziraphale relationship wasn't meant to be just and solely a romance, that it was a bit more ambiguous and open for interpretations, but that's a fight I have to lead another time)

I am still pissed off at how GO (show) fans treat Adam and the Them sections like garbage and as parts that could be entirely cut off - when they were crucial and the heart of the novel. It was a proof that the show had manage them very poorly.

Reason B: I did not trust Gaiman's claims.

Remember, this is before the whole business of sex crimes popped up. I am not saying this retrospectively. But when season 2 was announced and released, I did not trust Gaiman with his claims of "continuying Pratchett's legacy".

See, it was well-known, recorded and reported that yes, Pratchett and Gaiman had worked on a potential sequel to Good Omens before Pratchett's death. And when Gaiman explained that season 2 would be based off those left-over ideas and concepts for this sequel (the same way several of the added segments of season 1 were leftovers of this same unwritten novel) I was "Great!". But the way Gaiman shifted around when talking about this on Tumblr bothered me.

Originally he claimed season 2 would be based on the sequel novel. But then he claimed season 3 would be based on the unfinished sequel, with season 2 merely being a "bridge" to season 3. And then he added that however season 2 was not a "filler" but was "needed" to be able to reach and access season 3's story? Despite season 3 being supposedly based on the unmade DIRECT sequel to the Good Omens novel, an unmade sequel that several elements of were directly introduced in season 1? This made me very suspicious and distrustful. This is also why I never bothered watching season 2 - it always felt to me as if Gaiman was trying to sell his own ideas under the name of Pratchett, and since only he was in the know, we couldn't prove anything.

Now to be fair, Gaiman WAS fair in handling Pratchett's moments in season 1. For example, while yes he had some of the Pratchett-written moments cut (like some of the Them's scenes), he also had several of his own sections cut (for example it is known that the Four Horsepersons of the Apocalypse scenes were mainly written by Gaiman - and I was really pissed off at how they removed basically half of their scenes because they are one of my favorite parts of the novel). But you can unfortunately feel how Pratchett wasn't on board because of precisely how his main part in the novel (Adam and the Them) ended up underwhelming and ignored by everybody... Which leads me to

Little C: This one is basically a bonus thought I am throwing here because I don't know how else to introduce it. The Good Omens show (at least season 1, again I didn't watch season 2) was so sanitized... A lot of the dark humor was cut out of the show, and it felt so hypocritical and such a classic "Amazon sanitizing" job. For example Famine's scene with the dieting model was cut off to "not offend people" and "not be triggering". Despite it being a very much needed commentary and thing to point out about human evil? And the line about the "faggots" was cut-off again to not be "offensive"... Despite it being a very clever pun on UK English versus USA English and the USA having proven VERY recently that they are NOT actually a gay-friendly nation? They gave flavor and spice and a much needed dose of the "anger under the humor" typical of Pratchett's work, and removing these little bits here and there made the show feel a bit... sugary sweet? A bit sanitized.

When tboredman said he was a bit wary about the coming of the Good Omens show because of how he perceived "red flags" with the trailers and promos, I was quite puzzled... Unfortunately now I can see it was a literal omen. By the way, if you want a very cool, very nice, very inventive webcomic that pays homage and takes inspiration from Good Omens while being its own hilarious yet dark Apocalypse parody... I suggest you check Boredman's Apocalyptic Horseplay. It is really cool! It is on Webtoon or on this very Tumblr (check @tboredman )

[ghoulishtomato]

NIGHT AT THE MUSEUM KNOCKOFF MOVIE???

Under the "keep reading" tab, you will see a bullet list of my reaction to a movie I found at Half-Priced Books called Night at the Magic Museum. It'll be me pointing out things about the movie and what I enjoy and whatnot. I do my best to describe what happens in the movie but, again, it's mostly reactions, so not a reliable play by play of the movie's events.

First, the basic plot synopsis of the movie that they have in the back of the DVD case (which is completely true and accurate to the events of the film):

⚡ During a fierce electrical storm, lightning hits a museum creating a magical passageway between our world and the world within the museum's paintings. Ben and Kim (brother and sister) find themselves transported to a 17th century village under siege by Falco, an evil sorcerer learned in the ways of black magic. The kids learn that the evil Falco is in search of the village's most prizes possession: The Jewel of Polaris. With the Jewel, Falco will be unstoppable. Ben and Kim must save the village and return to our world before it's too late.⚡

Now, onto my actual (a little bit disjointed) commentary:

before the actual movie, there was a trailer that had some lovely 90s Fantasy Whimsy, and the scenes/compositions scratched my brain just right that now my hopes for NAT(M)M are probably way too high now. Also, the trailer was for something called The Tiny Kingdom, so ofc my NATM brain thought of Jed and Oct

LOVE the orchestra music that plays over a black screen as they list the credits. If they really wanted to rip off NATM tho, they coulda shown us B Roll of the magic museum. But it serves it's purpose and I love orchestra music so I'm not bothered.

We are now in 1632. A Sharp tongued British man named Falco is sneering at his subordinates (?) and my Red Dwarf brainrot has immediately projected Arnold Rimmer onto him.

Falco is kind of cunty actually. And also sounds EXACTLY like Rimmer.

Very obvious ADR for this one side character, but otherwise, not the worst production! I enjoy this!

This would fuck as an old anime, that's what the dialogue feels like.

It's probably impertinent that I tell y'all right now that I fuck with older shit and actively enjoy what people nowadays would likely call major flaws and "ruining the immersion".

hAHA ISTG THERE IS JUST SOME DUDE WHO ACCIDENTALLY FELL INTO THE SHOT WHEN HE DIDN'T MEAN TO, I LOVE LIVE THEATRE 💀

Some... Editing discrepancies... They say it is raining outside... No it's not 💀 And not enough for there to be flashes of blue lightning visible from inside. But luckily I possess a strong will for suspension of disbelief. And the blue lightning is just sort of a running motif through the movie as a reminder of the real world while they're in the painting.

Ben and Kim are mentioned in the plot synopsis, but they leave out the fact they have a little sister named Casey, who I argue is pretty important to the movie. Kim works at the museum and she has to bring Ben and Casey along with her.

Omg, Armour in a museum. Like Lancelot.

Okay VERY obvious ADR line that was supposed to be said by young teen Ben, but the ADR'd voice sounds like a grown ass man 💀? Quite a few noticable ADR moments that don't quite match up with what's on screen throughout the movie actually.

Alright, paintings can come to life because of lightning. No Egyptian magic here.

God, Ben is such a 90s teen boy.

Very clearly the draw of this movie is not the museum- like at all. It's this ONE painting functioning as a portal and the legit world it leads to. Not in any art style a la the black and white painting in Smithsonian, or the Escher painting in Secret of the Tomb. Just a straight up other world. Painting just sucks Ben and Kim in after lightning strike and spits them out into a hay pile in fantasy land.

There's a menacing guy who fell out of a painting and is now up and about in the museum (not important).

Older sister Kim is coming to ridiculous conclusions to blame Ben for the situation they're in (a la annoying big sister stereotype) but Ben's responses are so calm, candid, and reasonable that it's not annoying to me HAHA

Ben's so fucking funny actually HAHA. Everyone has had at least one surprisingly funny line actually

This Fantasy world low-key reminds me of The Legend of Zelda and I fuck with it. Just a little bit. (But everyone is basically human here; no fish people, or even fairies or hell, not even elves).

Falco is such a cunty asshole. Excellent villain so far oh my gAWD. He's so evil.

People keep mocking each other in this movie it's so funny.

HAHA, OKAY SO- They gave us a magician guy (M) who indirectly is responsible for Lincoln's assassination. This movie is so delightful. M is my new favorite.

M is there, btw, because Casey likes to draw, and he's basic her OC that they manage to get into the painting (in order to help Ben and Kim get home and whatnot) by sticking here drawing to the painting they're in. Yeah, Casey's just hanging in the museum with a security guard named Monty (who also play the magician M. The actor actually has some nice range in this movie!).

If you're like crazy about world building, I hate to tell you that s o m e of the stuff about this isn't real clear to me (like, it's implied the fantasy characters also existed in the real world or something but like??? That doesn't make sense here) so like 💀💀

Fun and creative puzzle moment near the climax :D Just one though. Also, Ben likes to roller skate, and that's helpful for this cave he's in to find some magic jewel to help him and Kim get home (and that he's gotta find before Falco).

Also there was a cave in this movie that Istg I saw in a dream...

There's this voiceover narration for some "Tests of bravery and intelligence" Ben has to do, and the narrator sounds like Crispin Freeman to me, heehee (it's def not him tho).

Btw, sister Kim has been delegated to prisoner waiting to be rescued but this is a late 90s fantasy movie so like... what do I expect.

The acting is kind of 1 Note, all on the same level for the most part. It's not bad by any means, of course, they've all been funny at least.

...... This movie had an extremely lackluster and borderline disappointing climax with all the fantasy land magic jewel shit... 💀 Falco deserved something more grand...

Btw, remember how I said there was a guy from a painting wondering around? Well he seemed to be after Casey for unknown reasons. But he was hardly in the movie 💀 He seemed to pose a threat near the end, but dispatching him was "super easy. Barely an inconvenience!" (A sword shot out of fantasy land painting for some reason and killed him before meeting him back into his painting).

So that's it. Literally NOTHING like Night at the Museum save for magic painting portal. Again, as mentioned in my previous post about the movie (and based on how the movie just looks and functions) it was made in like '99.

So what the fuck is the deal with the EXTREMELY NOTICEABLE Night at the Museum coattail riding???

Well, the company that released the movie (from what I can tell) is Moonbeam films, which wasn't founded until 2012- bUT it's parent company is Full Moon features, which was founded in 1988. So if I were to guess, perhaps Full Moon features made the movie, but Moonbeam released it on DVD.

NOW, THE ORIGINAL TITLE FOR THIS FILM WAS ACTUALLY Search for the Jewel of Polaris: Mysterious Museum. But when it was released on DVD in August of 2012, it was renamed to Night at the Magic Museum (it looks like it had a few other different names it could've been called as well, including just The Magic Museum or Mysterious Museum).

Both these production companies or whatever don't make like... The best films, I guess. Or at the very least, very tongue-in-cheek goofy ass movies that aren't trying to be cinema or anything (which is so valid of them). In fact, Full Moon features is known for shit like Evil Bong, Gingerdead Man, and Gingerdead Man vs. Evil Bong.

The point is- they're not particularly high quality or serious about their movies and productions if I were to take a lucky guess (cause I'm not gonna search THAT deep into this; I'm not a YouTuber who can get paid for it 💀).

SO- I THINK...

Moonbeam Films changed the movie title AND specifically designed the DVD case to match Night at the Museum as close as they possibly could (from the composition down to the font) YEARS after the movie was originally made/released, and a few years after Night at the Museum released it's sequel, Battle of the Smithsonian. Hell, the kid on the DVD cover doesn't even look like the movie's MC, Ben (left) 💀 They just grabbed some random white boy to pose SPECIFICALLY for this.

NATM had proven itself to be- like- EXTREMELY fucking popular among kids, families, and a bunch of gay people who want to see that tiny cowboy and Roman kiss. Like we see with lots of bootlegs, they were likely banking on riding the coattails of NATM's success in order to make money on their low budget crummy movie...

Except like.... Search for the Jewel of Polaris isn't bad? It's nowhere near the level Night at the Museum is production wise, of course. But it's got a homey feel to it. It's got an actual story it's telling, and the actor's do quite a good job! (Especially in the beginning of the movie). It is it's own, quaint little movie that I would like to watch a second time.

To ride on the coattails of another movie kind of shows insecurity about the movie's actual contents I think. I mean, that dinosaur, knight, pirate ship, and weird alien thing we see on the cover?? Not in the damn movie 💀 This attempt to be dishonest about what the movie has to offer while also maybe hoping people confuse it with another, successful movie in order to milk money out of it just looks bad on Moonbeam Films' behalf.

In conclusion: Search for the Jewel of Polaris is NOT a Night at the Museum ripoff, and could never have been, what with being made 6-7 years before the first NATM actually came out. It was rebranded in 2012 as Night at the Magic Museum for DVD releases by Moonbeam Films. It's a cute, simple little movie with it's own charming characters and concept, and you can feel the human touch/heart all throughout it 💛💛

Thank You for reading. ☺️✨ Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be thinking about Falco for forever til eternity.