#the fact that there are tiny versions of some of the neighbors in their houses on the map. trapped inside. multiple franks.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

looking very closely at the website neighborhood and here's some little things i noticed (plus some overthinking & flower symbolism):

~ the only butterflies on the "map" are the ones outside of Frank's house, and the single one outside of Eddie's.

~~ i think the flowers outside of Eddie's are either hyacinths or lavender. given that the flowers are different colors, they're probably hyacinths. which is a Fascinating choice to me, because hyacinths can symbolize regret, devotion (especially beyond death), love, forgiveness, and jealousy - depending on the flower color. Eddie has light blue, dark blue, and purple. The butterfly is landing on the purple one (sorrow, mourning, forgiveness, regret, devoted love).

~~ its also Fascinating because the myth behinds hyacinths is about the greek god Apollo and his (male) human lover, Hyacinthus. they were playing discus (metal frisbee). Apollo threw the discus too hard, and it bounced back and hit Hyacinthus, killing him. devastated, Apollo grew the hyacinth flower from Hyacinthus' spilled blood. SO THE FACT THAT EDDIE, GAY PUPPET EDDIE, HAS HYACINTH FLOWERS OUTSIDE THE POST OFFICE IS UM. INCH RESTING!

~~ (also also in the myth, Apollo wanted to rescind his immortality to join Hyacinthus in his death. and in an alternate version of the myth, Hyacinthus was technically murdered, because Zephyrus was jealous that Apollo preferred a mortal over him & purposefully blew the discus off course to strike Hyacinthus. things to think about. yes, in this whole myth metaphor im viewing Eddie as Hyacinthus and Frank as Apollo. do with this what you will)

~ All of the trees in the neighborhood are in the same general style, except for the tree outside of Sally's home, which is a pine tree. i wonder why!

~ the only buildings with second floors are Barnaby's, Frank's, Sally's, and Poppy's homes. rip the "wally falls down the stairs" memes

~ there's a teeny tiny Home in the post office display window

~ Julie's house has quite a lot of heart symbolism. like, a weird amount. an amount to the point where i now have an entire theory around what her role and arc might be. i Will talk about it with minimal prompting.

~ one of the swingset balloons has a happy face balloon with its eyes closed, which stands out to me (and fuels my julie theory)

~ the only neighbors who don't have flowers outside of their buildings are Sally, Julie (disregarding decoration), and Howdy.

~ Poppy has daffodils, which symbolize rebirth, new beginnings, resilience, and hope. however, they have a negative side of selfishness.

~ Barnaby has red, yellow, and blue tulips. red means undying love, admiration, and truth. yellow means "there's sunshine in your smile", joy, happiness, friendship - But it can also mean unrequited love or jealousy. Blue means individuality, trust, and good luck

~~ note that there's a dead/trampled white tulip. white tulips symbolize sorrow, "my condolences", apology, honor, purity, faith.

~ Frank has sunflowers, daisies, and some others, but those i think are more generic, unspecific flowers for added decoration. i couldn't find a "red flower on vine" that fits the general look of the ones on his house. now, sunflowers symbolize adoration, loyalty, longevity, happiness (also, might i add that these flowers are from another greek myth about apollo, this one where Apollo turns a jealous nymph into a sunflower for snitching on his mortal lover, which got her (the lover) killed. inch resting indeed.)

~~ also blue daisies, which i am assuming are the blue flowers outside his house, symbolize freedom, trust, loyalty, confidence, and honesty. lots of positivity surrounding Frank's house!

~ Wally has daisies. these symbolize innocence, purity, new beginnings, hope, and affection. it can also symbolize the ability to keep a secret. a fun fact i found interesting is the word daisy comes from an old english word meaning "day's eye."

~~ do i believe these flower choices were purposeful? maybe. probably. it does seem strange that there are specific, distinct flowers drawn in equally specific parts of the "map", while a couple of generic "cartoon" style flowers are sprinkled throughout

~ three green apples are growing on the tree next to Howdy's Place

~ it stands out to me that the bodega window above the fruit stands is completely blacked out. no window shine or nothing

~ Sally's "yard" is weirdly barren. everyone else's buildings (excluding Home) has several things decorating the surrounding area. all she has is a spotlight and a tree.

~ Barnaby's house having paint all over it (and a paintbrush & can next to it) is just cute to me. it makes me think that he wanted to paint like his lil' buddy Wally and just went ham with it. or it was a team effort between them<3

~ it took me a while to notice the tiny "Eddie's" painted above Post Office. it gives the vibe (to me) of him tacking on the "Eddie's" to make the office feel more like his. maybe he saw the sign "Howdy's Place" and decided to paint his name on his building to make himself feel more established and at home

~ there's something on / part of Frank's roof. i don't know what it is. if anyone has an idea please tell me its driving me insane. at first i thought it was a chimney but theres two? making an additional symmetrical structure? idk!!

~ there are only three buildings with straight up rainbows. Eddie's post office (hanging from the roof and in the window), Sally's house (the entire front), and Frank's house (butterfly on the door wreath. i almost didn't catch it, it's a sneaky one!)

[the-acer-scientist]

the Galapagos affair was a failed lonelyvast ritual, in this essay I will…

y’all know that episode of tma where literally all Oliver Banks wants is a gods be damned nap and some peace and quiet and the only way to get there is to go slightly south of the middle of Absolutely Nowhere? buckle in, and come with me as I ramble about that time in history where a real person had the same idea. disclaimer: my only source is a mostly-remembered version of the documentary The Galapagos Affair: Satan Came to Eden, so please do not quote me on anything

friedrich ritter, in 1929, left everything and everyone he had ever known save for one shipload of supplies and a ‘friend’, dore strauch. you see, his ultimate goal was to escape the shackles of society once and for all. he and dore were going to Return to Nature, really do their best to revert to pre-civilization. and the best place to do this, of course, was Floreana (one of the smaller Galapagos island).

imagine, for a moment. you, a shack of a house, a woman you brought along (mostly to monologue about philosophy at), and 173 square kilometers (67 sqmi) of island. for the rest of your life. 75 kilometers from your nearest neighbor and 960ish km from the mainland, nothing but undiscovered forests and open seas. as far away from society as it was possible to get. sure, it sounds lovely from here. everyone has those moments of ‘gods, I just wish I could get away from it all’. but realize this: there was no coming back. there was no chance of speaking to another human being except your roommate for the rest of your entire life. a decision that big, that irreversible, and especially that the decision was to stride into the unknown? tell me there’s not buckets of fear in there. when I call this Vast, I’m not just talking about the location.

in addition, tell me that the lonely didn’t prey upon the both of them. ritter was already Lonely, no one wants to get that far away without a reason, and he was exactly the kind of pretentious philosopher who believed that everyone is born alone and dies alone. dore, however, was not Lonely before she left. dore was only looking for an adventure, for variety, and to stay with ritter both as a friend and because he was ‘helping’ her with her MS. but, he failed to mention before they left, he did not actually think all that much of her. if I am remembering the documentary correctly, one of the other eventual inhabitants of the island recalled that ritter’s personal journal contained nary a single kind word about dore. tell me that’s not another layer of being Lonely, to be considered with contempt and disapproval by the only other person you’ll ever have contact with.

and, ironically enough, the Loneliness of it all was in fact taken down by a news article. the press got ahold of the story of the two people who were determined to abandon the world, published it, and lo and behold, the two were joined by an entire family in 1932, then soon after by a self-declared baroness and her two,,,, listen I don’t want to call them manwhores but I can’t think of a more classy term right now so we’re going with it

and of course, as humanity is wont to do, drama broke out and the perfect isolation of the tiny volcanic island was shattered.

[alopiidae]

i wrote a recount of what happened this summer

this is the public version, if u know me or we’re mutuals u can dm me if you want more details. hell anyone can ask about more as long as its not work related

after a long job search, I managed to land a temporary position at a park featuring a natural wonder and I'd totes dox myself if I said anything about it. I'm cool with sharing details in DMs with people I know are legit watchers and whatnot buuuut there's people that I don't want to be able to find my trail and just saying as much as I will would be identifying enough haha.

The job itself was great, the site was gorgeous. The problem was that it was in a small town and I had to move there. And there was only one place to move to. I actually looked at another place too but it was 50 minutes away... and well. for 750$ a month, i could rent a tiny room (or the "harry potter room", a windowless room featuring ancient posters of daniel radcliffe and a literal broom on the wall) in a run-down family estate, that was once a secret resort. there were holes in the deck, taxidermy all over every wall, and invitations to family dinner. the host explained the resort history as we looked out to the helicopter pad island in the lake. guests like oj simpson and the prime minister had stayed there back in the day.

anyway the other place was 600$ for a room in a bungalow 2 minutes away from work. Sounds normal, right? Oh, what could have been...

My boss actually asked one of my references if I could live in a house or something. I thought he was weird to do that, but well, maybe he was just tuned into the flow of time or whatever. My landlord rented out the rooms of the house separately, so I did not know my roommates prior to moving in together. A fun fact for later is that my landlord did not run a background check on any of us.

We had, besides myself:

- Landlord's employee, a deeply traumatized woman who did not care what I knew about her. Let's call her R.

- Her irresponsible on-off fiancé. The two of them lived downstairs so we didn't need to see each other much. He shall be C.

- Roommates were a couple. One was G, a man the age of my father who was visibly recovering from a meth addiction...

- And N, his fiancée not too much older than me. A fun fact about her was that she would be making noises constantly. It was baffling.

My roommates would buy something new every day despite having no money. They let food go bad all the time. They watched TV so loud it was like there was a shootout in the dining room, and they reacted to it like it was real. The downstairs neighbors were loud and didn't care what we saw. But I didn't care! I actually liked my job and everything was fine for a whole  almost three weeks!

By the end of those three weeks, I knew something was coming. I didn't know what it'd be, from home or work, but I just had this feeling like there was another shoe about to drop that didn't go away, even when it came out one of my coworkers was charged with something reaaaaally bad. That wasn't personal enough.

Literally the next day after I expressed this sentiment to some people at work, my roommates left in a huff and I got a text from my landlord threatening to kick me out if I spent more than 15 minutes in the bathroom at a time. Which is insane even if you don't factor in how I'm chronically ill, the fact that I get out or don't go in if I know someone else may have to, and the fact that she'd been up for two hours already that morning. And I promise I didn't wreck the thing LOL. Sharing a bathroom was THE thing I was most worried about when faced with a roommate situation, it's always been something that stresses me out and EVERY TIME I've had to move out it involved adding to the stress (public bathrooms at my last job, composting toilets practically in the middle of a public kitchen at the one before), and the fact that they went to the landlord before saying anything to me had me very worked up and panicky at work.

Then I got called into my boss's office.

I had no idea what it was about and was still trying to not be too paranoid or whatever so I didn't think it'd be anything bad until I looked... They'd gotten an email about me saying that I was using slurs and vulgar language to the guests and not talking about the site, that I smell, and expressing distaste over my ambiguous gender. It called for my immediate termination.

The email address... was my roommate N's full name at gmail dot com. I hadn't heard her surname at that point but that was first and middle and too much of a coincidence that it was the same day. My boss physically tracked down my landlord since he wasn't picking up, and confirmed it was her email. So, thank god she was stupid enough to use that address LOL, I swear to god if I got fired for that...

Naturally I was freaked out. I went back to grab some of my stuff (no one went with me but I wanted to go during work hours so someone would at least notice if I disappeared lol) and she was in the shower so we yelled at each other until G stepped in. She was holding my toothbrush hostage n shit lol. I took what I could and went back to work since I had no where else to go. Eventually, my dad took the long drive down and we stayed at a shitty motel since it was the only thing open while trying to work things out with my landlord. We also looked up N by her full name and found out she'd been charged with assault with a weapon on a teenager a few years ago (and responded to the article about it with LMAO), so that put things into perspective a little more.

Me, dad, and landlord went and met with G who allegedly had no idea what was going on. Never saw a man that broken. He admitted she was physically hurting him too, he had some deep scars on his scalp. She was apparently having a mental health episode which tracks but that's a bit too far for me. They were given a while to move out but in the meantime, it wasn't safe for me to be there, so I put most of my stuff in my car, and my dad took the rest to my uncle's. Apparently while I was gone, N was extra annoying to R and C. R apparently heard N say I did 10 loads of laundry at once?? And that R smokes and plays loud music, which is true, but N also smokes and played loud TV so that was stupid.

So I went to work and somehow carried on in my public-facing job like normal even though I didn't even know where I'd sleep that night, which I think was strong of me. It was planned that I'd go to my uncle's and just do a long commute, but he admitted he wasn't in a good headspace for guests, so he and my parents collectively ended up putting me back in that motel for 10 days.

Let's do the five senses for this experience, okay?

- Touch: the feeling of rough carpet on your legs when you exhaustedly wipe out after removing your work clothes and don't wanna get the bed dirty.

- Sight: stained walls, microwave stacked on top of a mini fridge, dated everything.

- Taste: dried out microwaved oatmeal and watery half-cooked instant ramen.

- Smell: my socks drying waaaay too slow, surprised I found no mold, really.

- Sound: all the most annoying whiny Simple Plan songs in the folder of random music I stole off my dad's computer, to accentuate the misery, and how the wifi didn't fucking work.

I checked the bed, and joked that they had every kind of bug except bed bugs (I think we all know where this is going but we'll save it for later). There was a shop where you could get like, the random junk that's in the average grandma's closet on the floor. The guy who ran the place was unsettling. The restaurant was bad enough I didn't go a second time. There was no parking lot, you just drove into the lawn. At least they had a pool. Not a good one, but better than nothing when you're on your feet in the blazing sun 8 hours a day.

When N and G did leave, I thankfully had the foresight to not cancel my last night booked at the place. They left the place a MESS (more on that later). This resulted in the incredibly rare instance where it was wise to pour the milk in before the cereal; I poured milk into a container and left it in the motel fridge so I could put the milk in the apartment fridge instead of taking it to work the next day when I checked out before my shift.

Anyway. The place had been a mess when I FIRST moved in before N and G did. I had to scrub everything. There was dog hair in the fridge and this like, layer of rot and yellowedness on practically everything. So I was pissed I had to do it again, since they left lots of wonderful things like;

- Used kitty litter

- Cigarette ashes on my mattress

- Rotting liquid spinach in My side of the fridge, after I'd been declining their polite offers for me to eat it previously

- Lots of random shit and garbage. I did get some unopened food and houseplants out of it, though that doesn't make up for... the everything else. I also discovered they'd stolen some of my snacks, and a drawer full of stuff I missed. It ended up costing about 1500$ in damages between the items, motel, and clean-up effort.

They'd also been insisting they were cleaning when I asked what chores I should do around the house when things were normal. Interesting how much whiter everything got after I cleaned it again.

I hung out with R and C and it was a little crazy. More of N's crimes and issues, things that implicated R in crimes (she's done time haha), trying to steal a guy for me from his gf (we ain't doin that), R realizing her bisexuality, lots of real deep talk, aaaand the fact there was mice in the house. More on that bit later.

I went home for a visit and got some stuff to keep the mice off my food. I crashed hard emotionally because going home does that to me, makes me feel like I'm not getting anywhere. By this point I was exhausted from work. I hiked about 40km a week, was on my feet and in the sun all day. It was good but hard. And keeping up with the housework was very hard as well. I had the whole thing to myself, and my landlord, to try and make things up to me, didn't let anyone else move in while I was still there and didn't charge me for one of the months. I was too wiped to do anything besides keep everything clean, and myself fed.

I spent an entire day off cleaning so I'd be free the next day. My last task was putting my bedding back on. When I was done, I sat down, and I saw a funny green bug I didn't recognize. My pal avery got real fixated on figuring out what it was, and eventually went to reddit for an ID.

They said it was a masked hunter nymph, an immature assassin bug. Then he said to me, he didn't wanna tell me what else they'd said... that they primarily feed on bed bugs.

So the next day I took everything off my bed, checked the whoooole thing for eggs, blood, bugs...

And there was One Dead Bug, between the mattress and boxspring. One.

The landlord nearly cried on the phone. My mother manifested in my home and poured HEAPING AMOUNTS OF DIATOMS (literally just supposed to lightly dust it) on the floor, and basically we spent the WHOLE DAY STEAM CLEANING AND VACUUMING only for the landlord to get back like 'yeah a company will come and do a treatment tomorrow' so I had to REMOVE all the diatomaceous earth ALONE with no vacuum, which is hell, and prepare everything to essentially be sprayed with pesticides.

Man I was tired BEFORE I had to vacuum five days in a row and do all my laundry every treatment. All my stuff was in trash bags. I was pretty miserable and bitter, but I did manage to get out swimming one day which was nice. One night I managed to accidentally stab myself and set off the fire alarm within minutes of each other.

Now, back to the mouse. I'd never really had to deal with mice, we had one once when I was like 10. I see em outside all the time, no problem, but it's very different to have it inside and know you have to GET IT. They are very cute. I screamed. I threw a frying pan. Somehow R and C didn't wake up. I eventually caught it in a bowl, dumped it in a trash bag, and started walking, unable to bring myself to kill it. Eventually I heard an owl call, and decided that fate would have its way, and let the mouse go. When I returned... there was a second mouse. I didn't catch it, but I didn't see another the whole time. My boss liked to make jokes about the frying pan thing in front of the guests. By now, most of my coworkers my age left for school so I didn't have many people to talk to at work aside from the guests. Man do I have weird encounter stories about them, ahaha. My coworkers had drama too, that I was not involved in.

C was very unhelpful during the bug treatments. The first one, I was trying to give them time to get laundry done too, but neither came back til after dark. When I tried to explain to him his clothes were covered in pesticides, he said "you seem agitated" and offered me a hit of his joint. These people are in their 40s btw. They fought often. Every time C fucked something up, R would escalate it to being about how he'd left her before/the other woman. Eventually, he snapped and started getting physical about it. Kept me up all night once and I was so tired at work, I leaned on a rock and fell enamored with how it was supporting me for a solid while. After he was similarly irresponsible following another bug treatment, they fought, she locked him out, and he literally kicked the door in. They broke up, but then it was time for a HURRICANE!

I did good at prepping for the hurricane and managed to not lose any food over the 2 and a half days between my ice collection and C's generator, which he fueled by smoking btw. I got a couple days off from work, during which I... sat in the dark. Listened to R and C reconcile, carnally. And shower by pouring cold kettles of water in my hair. Goooood tiiiiiimes. When I got back to work I got to see a powerline explode! C did leave afterwards. I wish them both therapy.

For the sake of not writing too much, I'll leave it there, but I did go home after the park closed for the season, a few weeks short of me being EI eligible despite having to move to an area with fewer jobs to get one and having a disability with an astronomically high unemployment rate. I still think about it all a lot. I'm like, haunted man. Now I have to get another job?! I'm interviewing for something close to my childhood dream job on Tuesday, and I'm very intimidated. I really just feel like going back to my art right now tbh lol...

[horce-divorce]

WELCOME BACK TO PART 2

this time my friend was able to add to her collection with a few absolute treasures found at the local goodwill

we started off with THE ORIGINAL 1993 FOX DISTRIBUTED ENGLISH DUB OF MY NEIGHBOR TOTORO!!!!!!!!!! 10000/10 off the bat because this is the version I watched so many times as a child that my copy of the tape MELTED. the fanning sisters did like a fine job or whatever but I don't understand why Disney had to redo the dub when they took over distribution in the aughties. I'm forever gonna be bitter about that bc the original was perfect as it was and that version of Mei just had so much genuine little kid zest, she reminds me more of Ponyo and I love her. So anyway the fact that my friend found this and we could share it with our other friend has completed some kind of cosmic cycle for me and I'm very happy <33333 diff scenes make me cry now that Im older. When Mei falls asleep on Totoro for the first time I started bawling. and when they take that first bath in their house and they're un-haunting it with their laughter. And when they made the flowers grow and they're going "it was only a dream!" "It WASNT a dream!!" and also when Satsuke asks Totoro for help and he's the first person to be THRILLED that she asked bc he knows he can help!!! And also when catbus says "next stop: little sister!" and when they leave the corn for mom. and when the credits roll and you see mom come home. UGH ALL OF IT. I bawled through the whole damn thing it's such a good fucking movie. (Idk who needs to hear this but as an aside I've been on T for a year btw and case in point, I cry all the damn time, so.) If you catch me singing the theme song out in the woods you either join in or you mind you damn business

after this came FERN GULLY (1992) which I was just saying to @endreal I needed a rewatch of, and what better way than on VHS on a CRT just like how I used to watch it as a babyboy! Some of the music in this movie is so bad, but some of it is sooo fucking good? Go listen to Toxic Love. I'm asexual but Tim Curry could get it if he wanted to I'm js. Anyway this movir is so 90s it hurts (the giant walkman playing Land of A Thousand Dances, the 90s Standard Movie Tropes that were in every fucking movie, god what a ride). and it's genuinely SO fucking beautiful, this is actually one I'd love to see remastered/in HD because I bet there's gorgeous details lost on the old format, it's a true visual masterpiece. All in all, it holds up! 10/10 this movie is a fan favorite and classic for good reasons and it, like Holes and Totoro, has a solid message at it's heart. faeries use collective action, Tim Curry is both evil and sexy, the fairies are so tiny and cute and sitting on mushrooms all the time, it's about using our inherent connections to save the environment, and it hints at a romance that ultimately doesn't come to fruition. it hits all the right spots. good shit. my top tracks for this one are Toxic Love and Dream Worth Keeping. (Deadass stop reading and go listen to Toxic Love right now. If this helps, here's the vibe check from the current top comment)

Batty's Rap physically hurts to listen to but is a BLAST to recite, and is chock full of incredible dad joke fodder to have in your pocket. there's also some funny dialogue/quotes that do hold up for me amidst much of the 90s stuff that feels more dated... the big, big bottoms with bad shorts thing is iconic but also, "we're communicating now!" "not THIS little mammal!" And "how many times a day I gotta threaten your life?" Instantly made it back into my rotation.

finally came DEAD POET'S SOCIETY (1989) which was another one I feel the VHS experience only enhances. this was a weird tonal shift from cartoons and made it hard for me to pay close attention to, but there are some very slightly "readable as gay" undertones, and regardless, both Robin Williams and (baby!!) Robert Sean Leonard put on such wonderful performances. the bonds these boys share are so nice, and good fucking god am I so thankful I went to public school. this one's rather dry and a bit of a tough watch, it's not something everyone will relate to (this is fundamentally a story By And For White Cishet Men), but its worth the watch if you can handle the topics at hand (tw for suicide and abusive parents). For me the whole movie comes together with that final "o captain, my captain." I bawled my eyes out lmao. Its just a nice, solemn story about all the ways people can touch your life and influence who you are. and also, if you think I'm NOT starting a secret poetry club in a cave somewhere just bc I'm in my 30s now, you're a fool and not invited to my sick poetry slam, cool cats only. 7/10

We started but did not finish Sailor Moon Promise of the Rose, so I'll have to come back with my review of that one. She had some other really good ones we have to finish yet as well >:) we're having so much fun with this. Even as someone who's been taking a step back to MP3s and physical media lately, I didn't expect to enjoy going back to a CRT/VCR setup so much. It definitely is an Experience™️ especially with the way time has degraded the physical media... For example, that Fox orchestral intro thing sounds sooo funny, instead of "bwom" it's like BwaaaAoOOaoOoOaoOOm, and all the audio does that. hope that makes sense. Anyway it's good shit 👍if you're someone who still has a way to watch movies this way in the year of our lord 2023, I highly recommend it

My friend just moved to a her grandmas old place and she doesn't have internet, so instead we dug out Grandma's trusty VHS collection and watched a bunch of movies from the cusp of Y2K. We also have plans to dig out more because this is our thing now, fuck Netflix. So here's my reviews so far:

Holes. what a GREAT fucking movie. Good message that is blatantly anti-prison industrial complex and anti-capitalist. good morals, good soundtrack, great casting, the author of the text wrote the screenplay so it hits hard like the book does, the romance between Kate and Sam will be goals to me forever. "I can fix that"!?!? KILL ME JFJDJWKWKFNJRNE 11/10 good shit. youuUuUUUU got to goOooOoo dig those hooooles 🎶

Another one that's still good? POTC: curse of the black pearl. Yes it's Johnny Depp Disney Garbage Trash, but it's WRITTEN SO WELL. Whatever writers they got for that shit obviously have written many a fanfic (positive! praise!!) bc the dynamics and dialogue btwn characters flow so smoothly. It's absolutely and utterly unlike real life, it's just the pirate story we all always wished we could be in, and it's still an absolute blast. for that I award it 9/10. This one was funny bc it came out on VHS in time for the commercials to be advertising DVDs.

Jimmy Neutron Boy Genius? This one's hard, cus this was one of my FAVORITE movies growing up. I noticed going in, however, that I remembered far less about what happens to Jimmy and his friends then I did about Caveman. Basically all I remembered was Jimmy's dad is stupid, and "when I sneeze it looks like a advanced species too." and that's bc Jimmy Neutron is a completely vapid and inane tale with absolutely no message, that unfortunately did not stand the test of time to me personally. It's pretty much unremarkable. they try to mix the "he's a genius baby" humor with 5th grader booger jokes and it just doesn't work, the booger humor doesn't land for adults and the genius humor isn't quite smart enough to be actually funny most of the time. Tbqh I think watching this as an adult gives me more ideas for horror movies than anything else. They go into space ON ROLLER COASTERS, WITHOUT HELMETS!!! They're fighting an entire civilization of space traveling ritual sacrificing EGGS and they have A SINGULAR! ONE! CHILD! ARMY! TO FIGHT THEM!!!! THEY CANT BREATHE OUT THERE! that's too scary I can't take it seriously lmao. 4/10 with all positive points going to Jimmy's hot mom and himbo dad (ideal romance tbh and where 90% of the humor comes from), Carl, Sheen, and Cindy, for screaming "THOSE FINDINGS WERE INCONCLUSIVE AND YOU KNOW IT" during their first on screen fight, that joke did actually land so they can have a cookie for it. And the teacher who gets turned small and gets left that way forever. What the fuck lmao

We also watched Pocahontas and I mean. Even as a kid watching that one was more of a lesson in "here's how NOT to talk about history," and as an adult, her "romance" with John Smith is more weak and pathetic than anything I've ever seen before or since! We got to "Savages" and all I could think was "Disneys orchestra really put their whole pussy into this one, huh?!?" I wish I could say the rest of the movie/soundtrack made it worthwhile but I'm gonna go with a solid 2/10 here. we still had a fun time tearing into their choices, and the aesthetic of an old Disney movie watched on VHS like nature intended is a form of ASMR. I didn't realize how much I missed the clackety clack of the plastic cases or the smell of a warm, freshly rewound tape. <3 good shit.

Stay tuned for more of my 20 Years Later: VHS Reviews No One Fucking Asked For! we're holding out hope that her parents still have my friends own VHS collection bc her and her sister used to have a banging VHS collection and I NEED to see Quest for Camelot.

[1kook]

crunchyroll & rail

the 10th installment of my netflix & chill series !

SUMMARY Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. WARNINGS smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… MISC fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality, RATING m (18+) WC 8.7k

NOTE (!) the smut in this chapter is relatively short ! I was more concerned with writing this monumental step in their relationship, so sorry to all the lads who come here specifically for the p0rn but today we focus on the l0ve <333 anyway nc 10!!!!! Can u fuckin believe….

Jungkook mentions it at the dinner table one night. You’re not eating— well, you are not eating; Jungkook has been stocking up on his protein intake like a madman —but finishing up some work you had brought home. Your back aches, your eyes burn. The mere sound of his soft voice has all those feel-good endorphins shooting through your nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. “We should take a trip,” he says, fork clattering against his plate to signify the end of his feast. 

Your fingers tap across your keyboard, eyes flickering between an Excel sheet and the report you’re typing out. It takes you a moment to respond, a delayed, “huh,” that even Jungkook doesn’t find convincing.  

In the background, you’re listening to what has to be one of the worst voiceovers of the original Sailor Moon series in a language you don’t even understand. But you know the series like the back of your hand, know what exactly is happening even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, because you’ve watched it only about a million times. It’s mostly just there for background purposes anyway, some white noise to try and replicate the noisy soundtrack of your office. 

To make matters worse—complicated?—, you had been too lazy to get onto your usual pirating sites and had settled for the five minute, five part, 240p clips of Sailor Moon on YouTube (you know the ones), and Jungkook has to wait until Episode 74: Part ⅖ ends before you grace him with a proper response. “Where do you wanna go, baby?” you ask, giving your eyes a break from the data as you move to scour YouTube for Episode 74: Part 3/5. 

He’s stretching back now, arms wound up above his head. His hair— god, his hair —is an ashy color now, a faded version of its golden ancestor from a few months ago. Soon, he’s planning on going back to brown, claims he’s getting too old to be dying his hair, whatever that means. For now, you watch his inked fingers run through his scalp; he looks delectable. Maybe you’re hungrier than you initially thought. Or at least thirstier. “A cabin,” he suggests, and he offers this little half shrug that would otherwise seem normal had you not been well-versed in the art of Jungkook Body Language. His front teeth nibble at his lip, eyes laser focused on his empty plate. Even now, he still gets nervous asking you out. That thought alone makes your ego soar as high as an airplane. “Just something small.”

Usually, “something small” with Jungkook ends up being something big and, in most cases, something expensive. Which you’re totally not opposed to— you’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t even bother trying to dissuade Jungkook from showering you with gifts. It’s one of his many, many, many, many forms of loving you and, well, he knows you like the back of his hand. He rarely misses. 

Lo and behold, it is a grander affair than a simple cabin. “Well, it’s more like a resort,” he confesses, reaching across the table for your hand. Immediately, his thumb finds itself rubbing over the simple band of your promise ring. “Just wanna do something nice for you. I know you’ve been tired lately,” he adds on, voice a quiet murmur that nearly gets lost under the intensity of the pout that appears whenever he becomes even the slightest bit bashful. 

You smile, the fondness in your heart skyrocketing to impossible heights when he lifts your hand to press those pretty petal lips against your knuckles. “Well, just let me know when,” you tell Jungkook. “So I can request time off from work.” 

Episode 74: Part 3/5 starts playing after an ad, and you’d pause it for the sake of preserving this moment with Jungkook, but it’s hidden under so many tabs on your laptop that you lose it the second you leave the tab. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, sending his ashy locks cascading beautifully. “You know that show is on Crunchyroll,” Jungkook says, seemingly moving past his bout of shyness now. “And you have the password.” 

“Do I,” you murmur, but he’s lost you once more, your true talent of typing with one hand showing itself as you return to your Excel sheet, the other still firmly squeezed in his grasp. Jungkook releases soon enough anyway, cleans up the table quickly, and disappears off into the kitchen. He sings when he washes the dishes, likes to pretend he’s a terrible singer even though you’ve told him countless times he could easily take X Factor by storm. (And you know exactly what it takes to wow those judges— you spent the entire last month psychotically watching multiple X Factor seasons from multiple different countries, nearly considered joining the damn audition yourself.) The horribly dubbed Sailor Moon is yelling now, shrieking really, and Jungkook calls from the kitchen, “don’t forget to take your contacts out, sweetheart.” 

It’s domestic and it's nerve-wracking. 

You want Jungkook, that much is a fact. Aristotle and Socrates and that other guy could debate the philosophical intricacies of the world, turn this dimension in on itself until it was a scrambled mess of emotion and thought, but the one thing they could never change, could never even question, is your love for your boyfriend. You want Jungkook badly, but more importantly, you want Jungkook forever. 

And you’re sure Jungkook probably, maybe, hopefully feels that way too. But the way you feel is… slightly concerning to say the least. For starters, you’re convinced your love for Jungkook was meant to be, and that’s saying a lot coming from you. You’re not one for cheesy, soulmate tales— that was more Jungkook’s thing —but the more you think about it, the more you become convinced that you and Jungkook were destined to meet. Like the planets aligned one year, the stars conferred, a tectonic plate somewhere in California shifted; whatever it may have been, something happened somewhere that led to the birth of this beautiful romance of yours. 

Lately, being with Jungkook has this inexplicably fiery feeling blossoming in your chest, these waves of emotion that sometimes have you fantasizing about the weirdest of scenarios with him. Like yelling at him for not taking the garbage out on time, or bumping into each other as you make dinner in the kitchen, or buying a new rug together. 

(Most drastically, the other day, you had a dream where you were pregnant and Jungkook was there and there was a house and a dog and an annoyingly friendly neighbor and this god-awful tile in the bathroom.) 

Long story short, you’ve been fantasizing about a forever with Jungkook. The concerning part is the timing; was this too early? You’re nearly halfway through your second year with Jungkook now, and you know most people date for many, many years before the mere thought of union even occurs to them. In another life, maybe you were the same, would have held off until the very last moment. But with Jungkook things just feel right (at least for you), like there wasn’t going to be anyone else after him. And you sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be. 

You slump back into your seat, eyes fluttering shut. Too many thoughts swirl around your mind, and the screech of the Sailor Moon voiceover on screen certainly doesn’t help. How you managed to spiral that far down your thoughts in the span of one 240p, five minute clip of a larger episode amazes even you. To add onto your worries, the clip abruptly ends and Episode 74: Part ⅘ is nowhere in sight, a fact that draws a frustrated moan out of the already sensitive you. 

Luckily, Jungkook eventually returns, standing closely behind you. His presence is enormous, the room suddenly overflowing with a shit ton of those feel-good endorphins all over again, except this time they reach an all-time high when he leans over and quietly shuts your laptop. “Come sleep,” he says softly, and it’s a pleasant mixture of his genuinely caring voice and that horndog purr of his that lures you into bed. And it’s that same voice that croons softly into your ear, fingers nestled between your folds until you’re orgasming yourself into a deep slumber. 

Much to no one’s surprise, the cabin turns out to be quite the luxurious lodging; two floors of dark oak everywhere you turn, a stunning stone fireplace in the bedroom, and a truly breathtaking view of the resort’s snowy hill (read: front row seats to watch all the snowboarders and skiers wipe out in the snow). Jungkook had splurged quite the pretty penny on it, so you make a point to clap it up for him when he first opens the door to your temporary home for the weekend. 

The main bedroom is beyond words. It’s got an attached balcony (that you doubt you’ll be using in this chilly weather), and a wooden canopy bed that makes you feel like a royal (that you will certainly be using). It’s separated into two areas, the bed space and a tiny entertainment area on the other side of the room. Perhaps the best thing about the room— and the cabin itself —is the huge, smart TV mounted above said stone fireplace and the fact it allows the phone mirroring option in lieu of not having any streaming sites. And as is with every and anything to do with televisions, Jungkook is the most excited of the two of you. “Baby, look,” he beams, pointing excitedly at whatever he’s got mirrored onto the television this time. Knowing him, it’s probably another documentary. 

You had the forethought to finish your work before the trip, spent two days in the office going absolutely ham on this month’s final reports until your department head promptly sent you home to finish the rest there. You had given yourself a fright upon entering the bathroom that night, the state of your under eyes so severe, you feared it was sufficient cause for a national emergency. Similarly, Jungkook had done the same with his work, cooped himself up in his study until he was free from the shackles of capitalism for the weekend. All this to say you’ve missed him these past few days. 

But even though you’re sorely malnourished in the affection department and craving a good kiss or two, you wouldn’t dare interrupt one of Jungkook’s little nerdy, tech-induced fanboy moments. They’re cute, in their own geeky way, providing some insight to a mellower side of your boyfriend who looks on with childlike wonder; Jungkook’s eyes always get so big when he talks about nerdy stuff. You get to work hanging up the silk shirt he packed for tomorrow night’s fancy dinner at the resort, listening to some British narrator’s detailed description of the functionally extinct Northern white rhinos living under 24-hour surveillance in Kenya.  

(Jungkook’s really into nature documentaries again, had spent a few nights sniffling as he watched that one Koko the gorilla film.) 

The original plan was to head to the nearest store and whip up something small to eat at the cabin. But Jungkook is a little tired from the long drive, slumps down into the couch in front of the now lit fireplace like a limbless blob as he tunes into his documentary. His nose is a little red from the outside chill. It’s so cute. He’s so cute. You love him so much, you fear you’ll accidentally squeeze his cheeks to death. It’s a thought that occurs more times than you’d like. 

According to the pamphlet on the nightstand, the resort has its own room-service to order from. Normally you would do that, but not this time; you had gotten into a bit of a squabble with the man at the front desk after he had tried to withhold Jungkook’s reservation for arriving two minutes past your check-in time, called each other all sorts of names before he backed down and gave you your room key. So you’re still a little salty, to say the least. Instead, you settle in for some pizza in front of the huge TV, calling up the nearest place to order some of Jungkook’s and your favorites. 

You plop down beside him, instinctively cuddling closer when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “So,” you start, flipping through the rest of the resort’s introductory pamphlet. There’s a loud roar on screen. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what Northern white rhinos sounded like until then, and you probably never would have if not for the man beside you. “What are you in the mood for tonight, sweet boy?” 

You’re not sure if it’s the fatigue or the overall relaxed vibes he’d been exuding since the moment you entered the cabin, but Jungkook is weirdly cooperative today. “Whatever you want,” he responds, head on your shoulder. He even places the remote in your hands, gives your enclosed fist a gentle tap as if he’s just handed you the secret to eternal youth. In other words, it’s a rare sight to behold. “This is your trip, pretty girl.” 

You appreciate the sentiment, but feel the need to clear the air, tucking your feet up onto the couch as you snuggle closer. “Our trip,” you clarify, and snatch the remote anyway before he changes his mind. 

Jungkook releases a quiet huff of laughter, head rolling back against the couch cushions to display his thick, juicy neck that definitely doesn’t awaken any vampiric tendencies in you. “We can even watch some anime if you want,” he murmurs, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that would have made any teenage girl in the early 2000s squeal with excitement. It’s one of those barely there touches, but the way he holds you makes you feel so safe and warm and loved. So loved and in love. “The ones on Crunchyroll, though.”

For the sake of preserving these good vibes (and your ears [and Jungkook’s sanity]), you navigate to the Crunchyroll app on your phone, quickly finding your latest obsession and mirroring it onto the big television before Jungkook can react. “Sailor Moon?” he asks with a tone that implies a feigned interest, mostly out of respect for you; he’s, sadly, still not the big dorky anime fan you had hoped to convert him into. 

“In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you,” you recite dutifully, snatching up the throw blanket on the end of the couch. It’s barely big enough to cover the both of you, has Jungkook’s outstretched legs and your booty subject to the chilly air. Who cares, Jungkook is a furnace anyway. 

He snorts. “Punish me,” he mumbles, as if he doesn’t believe it. His snarky comment wins him a playful pinch against his doughy cheek, not that he particularly defends himself against it anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you tug at the pale skin. 

“Don’t fuck with the moon, Jungkook,” you warn him, snuggling closely against his side as your favorite opening song begins filtering through the speakers of the television before you. It’s infinitely better than the 240p YouTube clips you had subjected yourself to the entire last week, the graphics scarily clear. 

“Right, of course,” Jungkook says, but a hint of amusement seems to curl around the sound anyway. Nevertheless, he lets it go, cuddles into your side as you pour your full focus into watching yet another group of ragtag teenagers with supernatural abilities kick some ass. 

You can tell Jungkook isn’t really into it, and you’re torn between just snuggling him into a well deserved nap or taping his eyelids open so he can become a fan of this show with you. 

The loving, caring, adoring side of you says Jungkook deserves the entire world and more (the more in question preferably being a fluffy blanket and a nap). He worked hard this week, just like you, and on top of that he was the one who planned this entire weekend getaway for the two of you to enjoy. You want him to rest up.

The obnoxiously in love girlfriend-slash-best friend in you says Jungkook is sorely missing out on one of the greatest shows on planet Earth and that naps are for the weak. 

Your jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a loud sound on the television, a yelp from Ms. Sailor Moon herself that has you jolting up in surprise. Jungkook welcomes you deeper into his embrace, chuckles at your little fright. “Scared?” he teases in that low voice that makes you feel like you’re going crazy, really. So crazy and irrational, and the only thing that stops you from bombarding him with an unexpected outpouring of love is that hard and sharp thing that pokes your side when you get too close to him. It’s not Jungkook, sadly, but something in the front pocket of his hoodie instead. 

And for some reason, part of your brain is stuck all of a sudden, rewinding the last two and a half years like a broken cassette tape that had the tape reel hastily stuffed back inside by a toddler. It’s choppy to say the least, and it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook calls your name softly, tenderly. “__,” he murmurs. It’s a little weird; it’s not often he says your name, mostly referring to you with one of the many pet names from that part of his vocabulary that focuses exclusively on terms of endearment. Your heart skips a beat. 

Now, if anyone were to ask, it’s approximately around this time that you begin to spiral. The pink curve of his bottom lip is just too close, the mole on his nose too prominent. Paired with the obnoxious tittering of Usagi on screen, you can feel your thoughts begin to overlap, bumping into each other within the realm of your brain until all that comes out are the messiest of messy thoughts. 

They go like this: 

Most episodes of any anime run for approximately thirty minutes. Take out the commercial breaks, the opening and ending credits, and it becomes something closer to twenty. Twenty minutes per episode, filled with plot and gags and tears and whatever else necessary to make you feel something, anything really. 

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask tentatively. 

In contrast, it takes approximately two seconds for Jungkook’s lips to quirk up— first the right side, always the right side —and his eyes to crinkle. Two seconds for him to smile, a sweet expression that reminds you of Netflix and college and quiet laughter and tattoos and silly YouTube videos and cookies and cell phones and job applications and blond hair; two seconds to make you feel everything all at once. 

“There’s nothing,” he says, but his cheeks are pink, and it’s not from the cold anymore. His smile is so big it makes your own cheeks ache just looking at it. You can’t even hear the television anymore. Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. “It was supposed to be for tomorrow,” he admits, unwrapping his arm from around you. 

It’s a little funny, somehow, because his hands are covered in ink, in tiny doodles and intricate pieces of swirls and words that ooze this aura of strength and toughness. But they tremble when he opens it, as unsteady as a wispy dandelion on a windy day, fumbling with the box. And when you look closely, he’s been biting at the skin along his thumb again, that nervous habit you’ve been trying forever to help him overcome. 

Someone is saying something on screen, something important to the plot. The volume is loud, but not as loud as your heart. Not as loud as Jungkook’s quiet murmur when he speaks again. “Will you marry me?” he asks softly, looks at you with flushed cheeks and big eyes and his heart on his sleeve. 

The answer has always been the same, hasn’t changed since the first time he planted the seed in your mind. Still, it catches in your throat, nearly loses out to a surprised and emotional sob that you barely manage to bite down. You had just been speaking, had just been ready to deliver a whole spiel on the importance of him watching Sailor Moon with you. But when you try now, it’s raspy and dry, as if you haven’t used your voice in years. “I— yes,” you exhale, surprised by the lonely tear that trails down your cheek. You go to wipe it away, but Jungkook beats you with a gentle hand cupping your cheek. 

His smile is wobbly, patches of red blossoming across his face that eventually consume his entire appearance as he leans his forehead against yours. Only then do you realize he’s crying, and you laugh out of reflex. “You’re crying,” you say, and Jungkook snorts. 

“You cried first,” he sniffles, smiling. “You made me cry.” 

He looks like a wreck, but, like, a hot wreck. An engaged, hot wreck who’s eyes flicker back to the TV to remind you to pause your anime, always so considerate. You do, hastily smashing buttons on the remote before remembering it’s controlled by your phone, hands flying back and forth as your nerves actively work to retire themselves after Jungkook’s proposal. “Easy there,” he soothes, eventually catching your hand in his, drawing it up for a kiss against your knuckles. 

The ring fits perfectly, snuggly. Vaguely, a memory drifts through your thoughts of Jungkook and Doyeon on a rampant mission to reorganize your jewelry box a few months ago, but it disappears as quickly as it came. You’re taken by the ring, a simple band with a pretty diamond on top. It’s a good mixture of you and him; flashy yet mild. 

“You love me,” you marvel, a revelation you’ve had the honor of experiencing time and time again with Jungkook. Still, it never fails to render you speechless. He hums. 

“I do,” he says, taking your hand in his. “It’s the easiest thing for me. Like breathing, or existing. I think I was made to love you.” And normally, you’d be the first one to correct him. Jungkook was made for so much more, a fact he’s proven time and time again with his abilities and the sheer size of his heart. He was your golden boy, could do anything he set his mind to. Always amazing you, always making you fall in love all over again. 

But now, with the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air, you find yourself incapable of negating the fact, instead sniffling at the meaning. 

Pleased with your silence, Jungkook places another chaste kiss against your ring. “I love you, __,” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. Your entire body feels as if it is doused in gasoline, lit aflame over and over again. Your heart threatens your rib cage, pounds away with the strength of a world renowned boxer. Jungkook’s hands curl around your wrists carefully. “I used to think we were like the moon and the sun,” he admits, “that you were my sun and I was your moon. In love but always separated by those thin veils of the sunrise and the sunset.” He pauses, nuzzling sweetly against your palm once more before gently guiding them down between the two of you. “But that really sucks— saying goodbye to you every night? I hate that, __. I hate watching you leave, I hate watching you run off in the mornings or halfway through the day, having to drive back and forth from your place to mine. I hate having to be away from you when all I wanna do is hold you. I— I want to be by your side,” he rambles, eyes nervously meeting yours. They’re still glassy, dark lashes framing his chocolate irises wonderfully. “Forever.” 

Your heartbeat stutters, the simple word looping itself in your mind like that night in his dining room all over again, all the fantasies of having a forever with Jungkook bubbling to the surface. Jungkook pushes on. “You are my sun,” he says softly, mostly to himself. “But… I don’t wanna be the moon anymore. Being the moon means, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye. In the night or in the morning, it always comes to an end. And I don't want there to be an end with you,” he insists, clutching your hand tightly. “I wanna be another star, the closest one to you. The one who gets to be with you forever. I wanna be by you and shine with you and—“

“Explode into a gazillion little fragments of cosmic dust with me,” you offer, and Jungkook nods along eagerly, too amped up on his speech to bother scolding you for your playful comment. 

“Yes, I want to— to—“ The words catch in his throat. So much emotion from the man you once thought was the dictionary definition of calm and collected. “To—“ 

“Marry me,” you fill in, and Jungkook practically blows a fuse from how emotionally fired up he’s become, exclaiming a resolute, “yes!” that leaves you stupidly grinning back at him. 

His outburst leaves him with flushed cheeks. “I do,” he reiterates in a softer tone, averting his gaze from you as if embarrassed by his cheesy outpouring of emotion. Usually, it’s the other way around; you make all the corny declarations of love and Jungkook laughs along suavely. It feels nice to have the tables turned. 

There’s so much to say, but the words all fade away when Jungkook shyly looks at you again. You settle on tackling him back onto the couch cushions, taking his surprised little yelp in stride as you suffocate him in your embrace. “Save those words for the big day, superstar,” you giggle, peppering his red face with tiny kisses that make him scrunch up cutely. “I can’t wait to blow up into one huge supernova with you.” 

Beneath you, Jungkook groans. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, voice muffled against your shoulder. Begrudgingly, his arms come up to envelope you, pulling you closer until the blanket scrunches up uncomfortably between you two. “That must’ve sounded so lame.” 

Leaning back so you’re not completely squishing him, you carefully push his silvery hair away from his forehead. “Don’t be,” you assure him, placing one chaste peck against his pouty lips. “I thought it was cute. I didn’t know you were into astrology.” 

A sigh. “Astronomy,” he corrects, “astrology has to do with zodiac signs and placements.” 

You run your thumbs over his cheeks, collecting any of the drying tears that paint his face. “Oh, like how you’re a Virgo and I’m a“— 

The TV remote you had lost somewhere along the way is suddenly rematerialized beneath your knee, sends the speakers blaring to life with a deafening screech that has both you and Jungkook leaping up like two frightened cats. “You always do this,” he laughs, that loud boyish sound that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. He watches you with a gentle smile as you hurriedly shut off the television, the remote haphazardly tossed somewhere behind you afterwards. You return to his embrace, wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth. His heart thumps a steady rhythm beneath your ear. 

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever,” you warn him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he’ll suddenly disintegrate before your eyes.

Above you, Jungkook hums, placing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I look forward to it,” he responds, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel the wrinkles in his shirt imprinting themselves against your cheek. He’s back to being that suave bastard again, and you find yourself wishing you had milked those big crocodile tears out of him for just a little bit longer. 

Fingers gently press against the muscles in your nape, push themselves in deeply until you can feel all the tension seeping out, turning you into a limbless blob over Jungkook. “Jeez,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “And you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you’d rather get engaged at a fancy restaurant with a pretty dress,” he defends, and you can hear the grin on his face. “For the photos.”

“Fair point,” you concede, eventually pushing yourself up so you’re not entirely squishing your boyfriend beneath you. Jungkook is already looking at you when you lift your head, has got this funny double-chin from this angle that makes his normally sharp jawline disappear. You find yourself tapping a finger against his chin, on the chocolate chip mole that hides itself beneath his plump bottom lip. “If anything, just propose to me again tomorrow at the restaurant.”

It wins you an eye-roll. “I’m not gonna propose to you again tomorrow,” he laughs, doesn’t even push you away when you become annoying and start tapping your fingers against all his beauty marks like you’re playing Whack-a-Mole. 

“Booo,” you frown, but let it go soon enough, foregoing your little game to press your lips against his. “Then I better make this a night to remember,” you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

Your hands dip into his luscious locks, fingernails tracing thin lines along his scalp that are certain to send tingles down his spine. As predicted, Jungkook releases a quiet groan soon after, a sound that’s muffled against your own lips. He’s pliant tonight, but not in a way that would elude fatigue. Pliant in a way that suggests he wants you to take the reins tonight, exhaling softly against you as he parts his lips. 

“Let me take care of you,” you hum, the hand that had been mindlessly hovering along his cheek drifting down to caress the side of his neck. Jungkook nods, his irises swimming in lust. You smile at his silent compliance, give his throat a light squeeze that makes his breathing hitch in surprise. 

He’s always at his prettiest when he’s beneath you like this, limbs moving in slow motion as you guide him along. You can already feel the beginnings of his arousal stirring beneath the front of his sweats, his cock slowly making its presence known against your thigh. You press your lips against his once more, making sure to make it rougher than the first kiss. Your tongue is met with little resistance, slips past his lips and dips into the hot cave of his mouth where Jungkook releases another trembling breath. 

Two hands come up behind you, trail themselves over your back and down to your ass, where he gives the two globes a tight squeeze. It draws a whimper out of you, one that Jungkook greedily swallows up. His tongue rubs up along yours, the wet muscle daringly pushing back against yours. His rebelliousness is only quelled with another press of your fingertips around his throat.

“Slow down,” you tell him. The first roll of your hips against him is slow, cruel in that you cut the motion short just as Jungkook begins to push back. A bratty huff escapes him, swollen pink lips pushing out into that endearing pout you love so much. It makes you grin, releasing the grip around his throat to carefully brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes. 

It’s a gesture that works to soften Jungkook as well, the petulant look on his face melting away as you trail your pointer finger along his cheekbone. It’s replaced with a more tender one, dark lashes blinking up at you slowly. “Open,” you command upon reaching his mouth, finger pressing down against his pink lower lip. Jungkook obeys, opening his mouth until you can see his pink tongue and the dark abyss that leads down his throat. Your finger pushes itself in, and Jungkook certainly doesn’t try to resist. His lips suction around the digit fairly quickly, tight enough to keep you there but loose enough for you to slowly draw your finger in and out, each short plunge pressing down against his tongue. 

It’s a rather short affair, one that comes to an end when he accidentally bucks up against you, pressing his hardened member against your core. You retract your finger.  “Can you,” he tries, but his cheeks are stained red and he refuses to meet your gaze. “Just…” 

You intercept him with a chaste peck, maneuvering your legs until your knees are firmly pressed into the couch cushions beneath him, his thin waist trapped in between. When you sit up, you feel drunk on power and the way Jungkook looks up at you certainly doesn’t help. “Can I sit on your face?” 

He chokes. “I— sure, please,” he blurts out. His gaze follows you as you slip off of him, quickly discarding your pants and top on the floor. One pat against his thigh has him hurrying to shimmy out of his clothes, his sweatpants caught around his ankles. 

“You’re excited,” you laugh, stripping him of his bottoms when the frustration takes him over. 

Jungkook scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, tugging his shirt off with one smooth motion. The ink around his bicep is as dark as ever, contrasts wonderfully against his warm face. “My fiancée is gonna sit on my face.”

The title makes you preen, quickly finding your place on his lap once more. With your clothing out of the way, Jungkook really does become a furnace. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch, soft too. “Fiancée,” you giggle, hands on his chest. They slide down, fingers playfully nudging his brown nipples. Jungkook flinches at the touch. “Gonna sit on my fiancé’s face,” you parrot back, delicately pinching one nipple between your fingers. A moan spills from his lips, his cock pushing against your thigh once more.

It’s the reminder you need, pushing back dutifully against him as you continue to toy with his chest. He’d look pretty with piercings, you find yourself thinking, watching on in fascination at the way his pert nipples stand at attention. Beneath you, Jungkook begins to grow desperate, his hands finding their place on your waist to encourage you to grind down against him once more. 

Jungkook swears up and down that he’s not particularly sensitive about having his nipples touched. But when you’ve got him like this, sinfully laid out before you, you can easily confirm that his claims are nothing but lies. He loves having his nipples touched, squirms beneath you impatiently with each playful tug and twist you bestow upon them. 

You duck down, pressing a kiss against his pectoral, just beside his nipple, and Jungkook’s entire body shivers. A few careful drags of your tongue against his warm skin only serve to string him along further, the prettiest whimper pulling itself from his lips when you finally envelope one of them in your mouth. “Wait,” he gasps, clawing at your clothing as if he both wants to push you off and push you closer. You grin, brandishing one mean nip at the sensitive nub. 

Eventually, your incessant need to play with Jungkook’s chest is fulfilled. “Lay back,” you instruct, watching as he shuffles down flat on the cushions, silver hair tumbling away from his eyes. He’s so red, eyes hazy. Your panties are discarded, joining the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor. 

Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on Jungkook’s face had terrified you, filled you with nightmares of crushing his windpipe or breaking his nose. For the most part, they’re pretty unrealistic fears, ones that can be easily shut down after one careful Google search on safe sexual practices. These days, it’s all too easy; in the mornings, especially, it’s become natural for him to guide you on top carefully, holding your hand as you whimper and sob over his face. 

In the current moment, you find yourself stroking a hand down the side of his face, completely enamored with the huge puppy eyes he levels your way. Jungkook likes having your pussy in his face just as much as you do, loves making you feel good in any way he knows how. But there’s a separate matter at hand, one that stands at attention beneath his black boxers and successfully wins your attention. 

Truthfully, there is no dilemma to ponder over; you want both to ride Jungkook’s face and suck him off. The solution?

“We’ve never done this before,” Jungkook mumbles in amazement, his voice slightly muffled from his position beneath you and slightly behind you. Still, his arms dutifully wrap around your thighs, guiding you closer to his mouth where his hot breath fans against your glistening folds. You rock back willingly, hands preoccupied with pushing his boxers down and away from his engorged cock. 

“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the cock before you and the tongue that gently laps at your folds. Jungkook makes a sound, something between a hum and whimper, his mouth slowly getting to work against your folds. “M- Maybe,” you stutter, all thought processes coming to a halt as you carefully take him in your hand. 

His cock is hard and long, his tip an angry shade that weeps with precum. From this angle, you get to watch Jungkook’s huge thighs twitch at the sensation, the tattoo that marks up one of them doing little to hide the fact. Your hand squeezes him, watches in awe as another fat droplet oozes out of his tip. A moan tears itself from his throat, and it’s so goddamn sexy it nearly drives you insane. 

It’s one particularly long lap of his tongue over your clit that sends you into action, back arching at the tingles that shoot down your spine. Wasting no more time, you guide Jungkook’s cock into your mouth, let your own tongue shower his mushroom tip in kitten licks that have him bucking upwards. He releases your clit with a lewd pop, hot breath fanning across your lips. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice harsh. 

Admittedly, it’s more difficult than you thought it would be. 

You’re not one to be easily overwhelmed (says you), but with Jungkook’s twitching cock in your mouth and his teasing tongue dipping into your entrance, it becomes hard to juggle your attention between the two. Even Jungkook, who is quite frankly the master of cunnilingus, seems torn between the two, his breathing shallow and quick against your folds. 

With each slow descent around his cock, he shudders, thigh muscles tightening in anticipation. It causes a lull in the pace of his tongue, the generous kisses and licks against your folds subject to a somewhat uneven pace that, surprisingly, leaves you more on edge than you’d ever expected it to; right when you think he’s about to suck your clit into his mouth, you’re met with a harsh exhale instead, one that makes your lips flutter. 

You’re both disappointed in yourselves for never having tried this mind-blowing position before, and equal parts understanding as to why you haven’t tried this position before— it’s a lot. His cock is halfway down your throat when it twitches, sends a gush of precum into your mouth that has your eyes rolling backwards, a whine slipping out around him. Jungkook appreciates the vibrations, letting it fuel him as he plunges his tongue into your hole. It’s a two way street, you realize, one that is constantly experiencing traffic. 

“Baby,” you gasp, pulling off of his cock with a slick sound, hypnotized by the trail of saliva that connects your lips to his tip. Jungkook’s tongue prods along your slit, makes your eyesight go blurry when the tip of his nose brushes along you as well. The idea of his cute nose buried deep someplace it shouldn’t be has you grinding down on him. “We can— we should stop,” you stutter, your trembling hand reaching forward to grasp the base of his cock. 

He’s slick with your saliva and his precum, and your hand makes a squelching sound upon contact. It must feel good, because Jungkook moans against your folds, his thighs unconsciously falling farther apart as you slowly jerk him off. You think you might’ve heard your name slip from his lips, but your mind is fuzzy, lost in your lust as Jungkook licks a sinful line from your hole to your clit, curling his tongue at the end. “J- Jungkook,” you cry, flinching away because it’s become too much, your toes curling as the beginnings of an orgasm threaten you. 

Before that can happen, he relents, leaning back with a heavy exhale, his hands loosening their grip against your ass and plopping back down against the cushions. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your hold. A lonely droplet of precum trails down the side, your knuckles coated in the glossy substance. Beneath you, Jungkook rubs one soothing palm against your hip. 

You slink off before he can get any funny ideas, maneuver yourself around until you’re kneeling between his parted thighs, his fat cock standing at attention between the two of you. From here, he looks ravenous, and you begin to question who exactly is taking care of who. Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from pinning you down and swallowing you whole, a thought that makes your toes curl. 

It’s with a cautiously horny hand that you reach for his cock again, holding him with both hands. Jungkook growls, head lolling backwards until all you can see is his neck and his chin, thick veins protruding along his skin. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment longer. “C’mere,” he purrs, hauling you up until you’re clumsily leaning over him, palms framing his face. A lone finger runs down your spine, its faint touch making you arch forward. “Sorry,” he says, securing an arm around your waist. “I know you wanted to take care of me, but…”

You roll your eyes, submitting yourself to his clutches as he masterfully rolls the two of you over. The couch is soft beneath your back, and Jungkook looks pretty from above too. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” you murmur playfully. 

Jungkook’s forearms find their place beneath your thighs, the fold of the back of your knee perfectly slotted against his warm skin as he shuffles closer. “Maybe another time,” he laughs along sheepishly, his hard cock gliding over your slit, teasing your clit. You gulp, eyes scanning over his lean build as if it’s the first time. “Sorry,” he repeats, but he’s got this stupidly dopey grin on his face as he glances down at your pussy; he’s insane, he’s got to be, what man makes heart eyes at a pussy?

Your man, apparently. Grasping the base of his cock, Jungkook takes care to drag it along your folds collecting your wetness along his length, a deep shudder wracking his body through it all. “I knew you would do this to me,” he mutters, so low you nearly miss it under the thundering sound of your heartbeat.

“Huh,” you mumble, and you’d like to defend yourself and say you weren’t as cock-crazy as Jungkook was coochie-crazy, but that would be a lie. You’re staring at his cock as if it holds the secrets to the universe right now.

Jungkook juts his head to the side, a motion similar to the one he does when he’s trying to crack his neck. His tongue prods along his cheek, eyes laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. “From the moment you walked into my house,” he grunts mindlessly, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He chances a glance up, meets your gaze with a patient look, “all good?”

“All good,” you hurriedly reply, fingers finding their place against his broad shoulders. With the way he had prepared you earlier, mouthed along your clit and your folds until you were pleasantly aroused, the glide now is too easy. Tight, but easy, has the two of you releasing twin moans that echo off the wooden walls of the cabin. 

Jungkook’s forehead is covered in a thin veil of sweat, one that glistens when the evening sunset pours in through the balcony doors, highlighting him in a golden light that makes you dizzy. The angry tip of his cock sinks into your walls, Jungkook’s ashy strands sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. For some reason, you find yourself reminiscing on the aforementioned moment Jungkook had spoken of. Of the soft sweater he’d worn that day and the dinner he had made, the blond tips on his chestnut hair and the way he’d clung onto every word you’d said. 

It makes you tear up, and, after laughing at Jungkook early for crying, you quickly turn your face away. 

Jungkook isn’t dumb. “What now,” he chuckles, though his breathing is labored, every inch of his cock that penetrates you further bringing with it another rush of adrenaline. At the hilt, you’re embarrassed to say there’s multiple tears streaming down your face, so you can’t even play it off as you usually do. “Crybaby,” Jungkook teases, but his voice is so soft and tender you don’t know what to do with yourself. 

“Just move,” you bite out, shamefully covering your face with your hands. Jungkook leans over you, the movement pushing his dick deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him. A kiss is placed over your knuckles, just shy of your engagement ring. Your chest lurches with a silent sob. “Jungkook,” you whimper, sinking further into the cushion, “please, just—“

“I got it,” he assures you, placing one final peck against your handmade (literally) shield. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he makes sure to whisper, “love you,” before unsheathing himself. 

You shudder, your heart feeling so full, you fear it’ll burst. You both love and hate when he treats you like this, like an ice sculpture in the scorching heat that has him doing everything he can to keep you solid. His touch is soft, the roll of his hips too slow for your liking. You feel so small and vulnerable— too pampered. “Harder,” you beg, your voice an airy whine that has Jungkook chuckling above you. 

He lives to please you, hiking your leg over his shoulder with a renewed vigor. His hands find themselves on your waist, forcefully pinning you down against the couch cushions as he sets upon fulfilling your latest request. The next series of thrusts are jerky, have you jostling in his grip as Jungkook pounds into you with an all new mindset. “Lemme see you,” he huffs, thumbs painfully digging into your skin. You tremble in his arms, heart swayed by the quiet plea in his voice. “Let me see your face, pretty girl.”

Reluctantly, you do, brandishing your tear-stricken face his way. Jungkook smiles, that stupidly handsome smile, his hips snapping into you roughly. “Fuck,” he moans, the expression never leaving his face, even when run your nails over his chest harshly. “You’re so pretty.”

You ignore him for the sake of your already weakened mental state, focusing instead on the brutal force of his hips, the way his cock stretches your walls out. Each push has you seeing stars, thighs quivering from the sensations that shoot up your spine and down your toes. “Oh,” you mewl, hands gripping his biceps as you lose yourself to him. Your eyes roll back, vision a mess of colors and nothingness all at once. 

“Is this hard enough?” Jungkook husks out, and he sounds so close. His proximity is confirmed when his mouth slots against yours, his harsh breath mingling with your own as he continues to frantically buck into your inviting heat, each new round of thrusts leaving you weaker and weaker than before. “God,” Jungkook cries, the sound nearly lost beneath your own moans and whimpers. “Gonna k- keep you forever,” he spits, tongue slipping into your mouth.

He’s messier than usual, moves with unrefined movements unlike his normal self. You don’t care, you love him all the same. His sloppy kisses turn into desperate ones, matching the pace of his hips. “Kook,” you sob, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his thrusts are reduced to a shallower depth. 

“I’ve got you,” he croons, lips against your jawline. His cock presses in and you swear you feel it alongside every inch of your walls, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. He’s layering messy kisses down your face now, lips sucking dark marks any chance he gets. 

True to his word, Jungkook indeed has you. His cock pistons in and out at an astonishing pace, each surge into your folds making you dizzy over and over again. It’s a feeling you fear you’ll never grow tired of, in fact, it’s a feeling you fear you’ll begin to crave even more in the future. The good thing is, that future will extend into forever. 

You yank him towards you, swallow his low laughter with your lips. Jungkook doesn’t complain, lowering himself until he’s practically squishing you beneath his beefy body, cock ramming in and out despite all that. His tongue glides along yours, makes it his mission to muffle each of your cries. 

It doesn’t take long for you to be fulfilled. Given the fact you had sucked him off like a lollipop whilst having him eat you out, you’re not entirely surprised. That and the emotions of tonight have you melting into him sooner than you’d like, his name falling from your lips as your thighs clamp down around his waist. Jungkook takes it in stride, slows the maddening pace of his hips to cradle you in his arms. You’re like jelly, practically flop back into the cushion when he slips an arm beneath you. “You’re so good for me,” Jungkook praises, lavishing your throat in tiny pecks as his orgasm circles around. “My pretty girl.”

“Love you,” you sigh, and your body feels numb, his intrusion but a small touch now that he’s tired you out once more, your walls tender and raw. Jungkook presses a smile against your throat and, moments later, releases inside of you. 

Even minutes after the deed, the feeling refuses to return to your legs. He didn’t go that hard— well, you’re not entirely sure. The memories always become blurry toward the end of your escapades. Everything rushes back in waves, and for some reason, your first thought is, “where’s Sailor Moon?”

Your post-rump conversations have never been the most coherent, usually filled with pretty weird thoughts and ideas. Still, more grand things have happened tonight for you to be worried about a magical anime girl. Jungkook draws himself out of your core with a huff of laughter. “On the TV,” he answers, unfazed by the oddity of your question. 

That’s how you know he’s a keeper.

It takes a while, but eventually Jungkook responds. “Avocado toast,” he says, though his answer is dripping with uncertainty. He’s naked as the day he was born, snuggled up beside you in bed. He’s propped up on one arm, looking down at you over the ample swell of his manly bosom. It takes everything in you to keep your hands off his chest. 

“Correct,” you respond, “and what movie did we watch?”

Without missing a beat, “Transformers, the first one.”

You nod, glancing at the ceiling as you rack your brain for any other trivia questions to ask your fiancé. “The title of the playlist you made?”

A flush paints his cheeks. “Date Night playlist,” he answers through a pout, reprimanding you for bringing up such a memory with a flick to your forehead. You wince. “I was young and silly,” he defends.

You beam, cuddling into his side until he’s forced to lay back down. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease. “We’re only gonna get older from here,” you lament. You’d say it’s difficult to picture him with a gray head of hair, but his current silvery locks don’t leave much room for your imagination.

Jungkook pulls you close. A beat of silence passes, and then, “so who are we telling first?”

Definitely Namjoon.

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[grumpyhedgehogs]

Rose Colored Glasses

Summary:  Ethan sacrifices everything for family. Then, with help from a familiar face, he moves on.

Notes:  Just a little something brought on by me lamenting the fact that there aren't enough fics out there that just have the Winterses and Bakers being normal friends and family.

AO3

The third time Ethan dies, he wakes up warm.

It’s a large step up from the frozen wasteland Eveline greeted him in, but the process of coming back is still just as painful. This time, it’s not his chest feeling hollow or his ribs burning as they scraped together after being shoved into the cavity where his heart was supposed to be. Now it’s mostly a full body ache; for a moment, before his thoughts reorder into some semblance of sense, Ethan thinks wildly that he has the flu, that everything since Mia had finished making dinner had to be a fever dream. She made soup--maybe because he’s been sick? She was always better at noticing when something was wrong than Ethan was. She probably put him to bed after dinner, gave him a cold compress maybe, and he’d passed out and thought up the entire nightmare because of that stupid children’s story.

The ache eases, though, almost immediately, leaving behind the warmth sinking into his bones. Ethan sighs but doesn’t open his eyes. It was all real--he knows that. He died--again--and now he’s...somewhere else. But the air isn’t cloying in his lungs, and he doesn’t hurt anymore, and it’s so, so comfortable, so he doesn’t suppose he minds too much. Rose is safe, Mia is safe, even Chris is safe. Hasn’t he earned a little rest? Hasn’t he earned the right to close his eyes for a while?

Sensation filters back in gradually, and Ethan realizes all of a sudden that he isn’t wearing his jacket or hoodie anymore. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbow. He doesn’t feel the heavy weight of his hiking boots on his ankles. His pants feel clean and unwrinkled, rather than stiff with bloodstains. There’s a constant pressure at his back holding him up, like lying on a brand new mattress. Then sound fills his ears; rain against a windowpane, his own soft breathing, the far-off sound of pots and pans and a stove turning on. His nose twitches when he smells something spicy and full-bodied, a good home-cooked meal. But Ethan still does not open his eyes. They’re too heavy. The ache has passed, but Ethan’s body is so very heavy.      

Even when a hand passes over his brow, Ethan can’t seem to find the strength to open his eyes. The fingertips are square and blunt, the skin worn from hard work. The palm rests gently over his brow before moving on. Ethan thinks of Mia, running her fingers through his hair every time he’d get sick, and cannot keep in a tiny, miserable noise.

“Shh, you're alright, son,” says a familiar voice. It’s less rough now, less demented than Ethan remembers it. Kinder, definitely. “You’re alright now. You’ve gone through enough pain to warrant a little rest.”

Ethan murmurs incomprehensibly, even to himself, and drifts.

When he wakes again, he is still warm. It makes him sigh and settle before finally, finally, opening his eyes.

The room he is in is rustic, with old, worn carpets and wooden furniture. The bedframe is wood too, and his blanket a deep blue, obviously hand-knit. The rain still patters away at the window above his head, but it's gentle and calm. A pair of loafers he recognizes as his own wait at the foot of his bed.

Sitting at his bedside, his glasses slipping halfway down a sloping nose, is Jack Baker.

“Hello, Ethan.”

“Hello, Jack.”

Ethan sits up, scrubs a hand through his hair and over his eyes. A phantom pain twinges through his wrist and he hisses, but it’s gone the next second. Jack hums and nods. “You’re feelin’ some pain?”

“Just the old ones,” Ethan tells him, letting resignation drip from his words. Waking up to a dead man-turned-monster after his own death is just par for the course at this point. Somewhere between getting his hand chopped off by a monstrous version of his wife and realizing that Mother Miranda ripping his heart out was not, in fact, the first time he died, Ethan stopped trying to make the world make sense. Jack Baker waiting for him in the afterlife? Fine. Sure. Why not?

“That’ll happen for a while,” Jack tells him, still gentle as a lamb. “The older they are, the more the pains stick around. They’ll leave you eventually. Just takes some time.”

Ethan nods and swings his legs out of bed. He looks up, considering, and at the openness of Jack Baker’s face, quirks the corners of his mouth up. “This is it then, huh? This is the end.”

Jack smiles too, wider than Ethan thinks he could manage. “Don’t know ‘bout that--but this is what we have for now. Reminds you of old times, huh?”

“Just not the good times,” Ethan says.

“No,” Jack agrees tiredly. “Not the good ones.”

His companion is silent as Ethan slips on his shoes and, after another pause, clumsily folds the blanket he has been given. Afterwards, he has to admit he can’t prolong the inevitable any more. “What are you doing here, Jack?”

Jack seems to take him at his real meaning, take his words for what are you doing here with me, Jack? “You remember what I told you the last time we saw each other, son? What I asked you to do?”

“‘Free my family.’” Ethan repeats. Those words have haunted him for longer than he’d have thought possible. All that death and the blood resting squarely on his hands--could it really be labeled as freedom?

Jack leans forward and, telegraphing his movements, slowly places his hand over one of Ethan’s. His fingers are square and strong and soft against Ethan’s reflexive fist. He finds himself relaxing far more quickly than he’d have expected. “You did as I asked you, Ethan,” Jack tells him. “Even though it pained you, even though it was the most difficult thing in the world for me to ask of you, you helped us. You didn’t have to.”

Ethan stares at him blankly. “Sure I did.”

“Oh?” Jack smiles, leans back and crosses his arms. His rocking chair is more stable than the one they’d had Eveline’s old body stored in back in Dulvey. It creaks with his movements. “You could’ve broken a window and run for it. You found your wife and could’ve gone off into the woods instead of facing Eveline. But you stayed, and you helped, and now we’re here instead of stuck in that mold.”

“Well--but--it wasn’t like I had a choice--” Ethan tries, his tongue feeling thick and strange in his mouth. No one has ever actually sat and talked with him about what happened in Louisiana, never acknowledged what he’d had to sacrifice before Ethan himself brought it up. Even Mia shied away from it. Taking a deep breath, Ethan tried again. “It was just the right thing to do.”

“But you did it, Ethan. No one else. So thank you.”

And well, that is true, so Ethan keeps his mouth shut. He shrugs, feeling awkward and embarrassed and not sure why. Jack Baker takes pity on him after a silent moment. “Since you helped us, we decided to wait for you. To make sure y’all are safe and sound when it came to be your time.” Jack looks over the rim of his glasses at Ethan, and for a second Ethan feels like a little boy about to be scolded. “We thought it would be quite a while before you showed back up, son.”

Ethan snorts. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Don't see why you should apologize for saving your daughter. There is nothing disappointing about you, Ethan.”

That warmth increases in Ethan’s chest. “Who else is here? Marguerite?”

Jack nods and softly claps his hands on his thighs. “She was fit to be tied when you showed up so unexpectedly. She’s downstairs now, getting some supper ready. We figured you’d be a bit peckish.”

For how well his last dinner with the Bakers went, Ethan feels considerably less apprehensive at the smells wafting upstairs. “What about Eveline? Lucas?”

“Lucas comes and goes,” Jack tells him. “He’s--he’s Lucas. It’s been harder for him than the two of us. He’ll come around.”

Ethan privately thinks that is the absolute last thing Lucas Baker will ever do, but keeps it to himself. “Eveline?”

“Nowhere we can see.”

He thinks of the cold, the snow, the mud and dirt and loneliness he woke to when he died at Miranda’s hand. “She probably doesn’t like company these days,” Ethan mutters.

If he hears Ethan’s comment, Jack doesn’t react. He stands then, and cracks his back, letting out a loud groan. Ethan smiles a little more at the humanity in the action. This is who Jack must have been before--well, before everything. Perhaps, if he and Mia had met them under different circumstances, they'd have been friends with the Bakers. Perhaps neighbors. Perhaps they’d have let the Bakers babysit Rose once in a while.  

“Zoe is the last one we’re waiting for,” Jack says. “She won’t be here for a long while, God willing. You’re welcome to wait with us for as long as you like, of course.”

“I’ll need to stay for Mia and Rose.”

“Of course. Would you like some company?”

Ethan blinks before taking Jack’s offered hand, letting the older man pull him to his feet. “You’d wait with me? Even if Zoe comes first?”

Jack claps a hand to Ethan’s shoulder and lets it rest there, warm and reassuring. “For as long as you’ll have us, Ethan, it would be our privilege.”

The gorge in his throat swells, his face grows tight and his eyes prick. “Thanks, Jack.”

Jack inclines his head and leaves the words hanging in the air between them, comfortable and knowing. As he turns to lead Ethan out of the room, Jack pauses. “Oh, you got any good stories about little Rosie? I’m sure Marguerite would love to hear some. Been such a long time since we had a baby in the house.”

Ethan smiles, and nods, and lets the warm glow of the home beyond his doorway guide him out.

[naivesilver]

What's your fave/least fave versions of Mangiafuoco? The dude seems kinda ambiguous but Disney really did him dirty...

Stepping into the den of the beast, uh, anon? Well, thank you for giving me a chance to rant once again. I'll put everything under the cut because I don't want to clog everyone's dashes with my delirium.

So, the problem with Mangiafuoco is that contrary to other characters I don't necessarily mind seeing him used as a villain. His role is that of the merciful tyrant, the mood swing riddled man, the ogre who is not truly evil, but if you're making a movie about the story of Pinocchio and don't have the time to pack every scene into it, or if you need to cut some corners, then he is the easiest character to erase the duality of. No time for the Gorilla Judge plot? It's fine, Mangiafuoco can lock Pinocchio up. Coachman seems unnecessary? Well, the dude SHOULD be able to drive a carriage, right?

As such, even if not every adaptation gave him the justice he needed, there are only two versions of him that I actually despise - Puppettino from Emperor of the Night, and Disney's Stromboli. And while Puppettino was terrible because HIS MOVIE was terrible, Stromboli's flaws went far beyond quality. It was a matter of principle.

Imagine, if you will, that a well-renowned studio finally makes a movie about a story that is pivotal to your culture. You watch it, expecting to finally see some representation about your life experience...and it turns out everything that made that story yours has been americanized, mixed and mashed with neighboring countries' lore and costumes because who gives a fuck, and the only slightly faithful character is a) a villain b) a heavily-accented stereotype and c) part of that long-standing tradition of flamboyantly ambiguous evil characters that nowadays Disney would happily call "their first gay character". And to top it all off, this is the only version of the tale everyone ends up remembering, often being dismissive of its true origins.

What I've said might ring familiar to many, especially members of minorities that have grown up with mainstream media (and in fact, if you have examples of similar situations about cultures that don't belong to me, feel free to send them over - I will gladly give those warnings a boost), and it's EXACTLY what Disney did to Pinocchio, and to Stromboli, specifically. The movie could have been salvageable - decent, even. If not for him.

(And Jiminy Cricket, but I can't spend every Pinocchio post complaining about Jiminy, now, can I?)

But thankfully, the Disney movie is now 81 years old, we can put it well behind us, and there are way better Mangiafuoco interpretations to draw from in what has been published since then. I'll gladly list a few, in no particular order, because these are all genuinely good.

Pinocchio (2019)

One of Gigi Proietti's last performances, and one that allowed him to both flex his theater acting muscles and express his unbelievably charming and positive aura. There's a softness to his scenes with Pinocchio that fits perfectly with the atmosphere of the movie, and if Garrone's Pinocchio was already a whimsical, comforting experience, the actor's passing fits another layer of nostalgia over Mangiafuoco's appearances. Thank you for this, Gigi. Truly. You will be missed.

Le Avventure di Pinocchio (1972)

What Mangiafuoco should be - he was an arsehole to everyone, but he gave Pinocchio mercy, food AND clothes, which is exactly what a child living in poverty would need first (also the golden coins, but those didn't go that well). Comencini's miniseries' peculiarity is that it's constantly a bit rough around the edges, far from polished perfection, and what's rougher than a giant of a man bellowing at teeny tiny puppets? A+.

The Adventures of Buratino/Buratino and the Golden Key

I want to know what the fuck was the deal with him SO BAD...Why hide a key in the house of a man like Papa Carlo Geppetto? Especially a key that important? I so wish the Italian dub could be found somewhere, because I can't keep track of the stuff happening if I have subs and I don't know shit in Russian. I only know he was balls to the walls and thriving, and that anyone employing the likes of Pierrot must have had an iron patience. Definitely would watch him conspire in a language I don't understand again.

Pinocchio (2009)

Every time I make one of these posts I think back to this miniseries and EVERY TIME I forgot how utterly ridiculous this Mangiafuoco is. A mixture of Stromboli, an aged rockstar and a bondage enthusiast, with such ridiculous sound effects given to his voice it's a wonder Rai didn't laugh the director out of the room. At least they realized they could only do so much with the terrible CGI Italy is infamous for and made a miniature set for him to traipse around instead of trying to fake a giant man. Best Mangiafuoco if you want to laugh for a solid ten minutes.

And that's it! I hope I exhausted all you needed to know, anon!

[lambourngb]

This Hard Journey

Fic prompt: “There’s something you should know…” Michael Guerin Day 2. This picks up after yesterday’s “This Hard Life” - a part of interconnected ficlets of an AU after the shed, where Alex doesn’t join the Air Force. Mentions of Malex and an Alex/Other here. Finished on ao3 here.

***

He finally got a dog, was all that Michael could think as he sat outside of the house that matched the address Max pulled from the DMV.  They had always wanted to get a dog together, but with pet deposits and the tight budget for rent and food, that had always been a non-starter for them. Not anymore.

The quiet shaded street just off of the Buchanan Arts District was lined with old-style Craftsman homes among the peppered in new, renovated sprawling McMansions born of the house flipping obsession during the real estate boom. New construction sprouting between old, mature trees, juxtaposing progress with tradition.

Alex had chosen one of the older homes, untouched by the remodeling fad with a large fenced in yard filling the property footprint, and a dog house that mimicked the main house in style. Two solid years of song-writing had rewarded Alex with financial security, and of course, after three years living in cramped efficiency apartments and noisy neighbors with Michael, the first thing Alex would want again was a house. The roots of his upper middle class childhood were never far away.

Pressing his forehead against the steering wheel, Michael worked to gather the courage that kept him propelled down the over 1,100 miles from Roswell to Nashville. He had made it here, the least he could do was knock on the door instead of freaking out over the fact that Alex had a house with a mortgage while all Michael could muster in the two years since was buying a bank-possessed Airstream.

At least it was better than sleeping rough in his truck again, something he had done when he fell behind on the rent after Alex had left.

Michael took a deep steadying breath and pushed himself out of his truck. The spans of sidewalk suddenly seemed longer than I-40 through Oklahoma. Another deep breath, the irony of borrowing Alex’s self-soothing habit not lost on Michael at all, he tucked his left hand into a pocket to hide the old damage and knocked firmly on the front door.

There was a long silence extended, shoving anticipation into chagrin as Michael turned his head to peek at the tiny side-carport, confirming there was a car there. A loud, chorus of deep barks picked up from within the house. The dog sounded big, but none of that registered as he picked up Alex’s voice, muffled and indistinct.

“-calm down, buddy. Stay- no, stay- It’s probably Daddy’s new speakers arriving-”

After two and half days of driving, Michael had perfected his speech to Alex. It hit every open wound between them, from the fact he was sorry he hadn’t gone with him, to the weak but true explanation that he wasn’t ready then, but he was now. Then finally the big dice throw, the gamble of everything, that every city needed a good mechanic, Nashville was no different, it was no pressure- but maybe? Maybe they could start over?

The door swung open, and like a bag of spilled marbles, all of Michael’s words scattered away from him.

“Michael?” Alex’s polite smile for an expected delivery dropped into disbelieving shock. He did a comical double take, looking back into the house, then to Michael, then over Michael’s shoulder. The classic Chevy truck parked on the street chased away the shock. “Jesus Christ, it really is you.”

“Alex.” Michael swallowed, his eloquence gone. “You look good.”

They had had three years together, and during that time Michael had seen so many different versions of Alex Manes. He had seen Alex tired, dark circles shading his eyes more consistently than eyeliner with an off-kilter alien antennae from the Crashdown. He had seen Alex resolute, using his shoulders to impart a warning in his black clad Wild Pony shirt to any drunk who dared to give him a hard time. He had seen Alex awkward, as he helped Michael with his chores at the Foster’s ranch when it came to cleaning out a cow pen or pulling the twine efficiently off baled hay. He had seen Alex ashamed, as Michael patiently explained during their first grocery store visit that the EBT card only covered certain items.

This Alex was new. Clean, well-rested, skin clear and not tight on his cheekbones from lean meals or bloated from cheap food. An earring shined from his ear, he was dressed in a soft v-neck shirt and artfully cut frayed jeans. Good was an understatement.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here- I’m here because Isobel got married, and um, she wanted to invite you, but I talked her out of it. I’m sorry. I mean for that, but also for like, everything. Not following you here was something I regretted every day since, but I thought- I thought I had to stay back then, but I don’t anymore- and there’s something you should know-” 

“Babe? Is that our new speakers at the door?” A new voice called out, cutting off the word vomit that was spilling from Michael’s mouth beyond his control.

A male voice.

The wince and apology on Alex’s face told Michael everything he needed to know. Well. He probably should have seen that coming. Only Alex’s reaching out quickly to grab his hand as he turned away stopped him from bolting from the house.

“No, not our speakers, but an old friend from back home is here-” Alex called back, before turning back to make deliberate eye contact with Michael. “He wanted to stop by to say hello.”

A tall well-built black man came into view, holding a squirming pit bull in his arms, walked toward them both with a bright welcoming smile, “A friend from Roswell? An actual flesh and blood human who knows you? I was starting to think you were an alien, Alex.”

“Just because you’re related to half of Nashville and went to school with the other half, Dennis, doesn’t mean I sprouted from a pod-” Alex shot back playfully, clearly picking up a well-worn argument. 

Like a couple. A real couple. With a house and a dog. Michael licked his dry lips, forcing his muscles upward, they probably had retirement accounts. In two years Alex had built something more secure than he had in the three years in Roswell.

“Well any friend of yours, Alex, is one of mine,” Dennis greeted, turning his head to avoid an excited dog kiss before transferring the bundle of fur into Alex’s arms in a fluid movement of trust. “I’m Dennis, welcome to Nashville, um-?” he prompted, extending his left hand to Michael.

“Michael Guerin,” he answered politely, before Michael lifted his left hand awkwardly from his pocket and offered his right in return. His name didn’t alter the warm smile on Dennis’s face. Ah. So he must be a nameless ex for Alex then. Swallowing hard, Michael continued, this time a little meanly, “this hand doesn’t shake so well after I got on the wrong side of a hammer, sorry. But good to meet you.”

The stutter of the clumsy interaction hid Alex’s wince and flash of pain of the reminder. 

Feeling no joy from that, Michael picked up the conversation lightly, “I’m a friend from high school. Been doing some transport work, and a job sent me here to pick up a car to drive back to Roswell, so I thought I might stop in and see what the famous Alex Manes is up to…”

“I’m not famous, I just write the words,” Alex protested quietly, before backing away from the doorway. “We were just about to have lunch, if you want to stay-”

“He’s famous, don’t listen to him,” Dennis interjected proudly. “Did you hear that new song from Paramore? Alex wrote that.”

“Oh I know, I have all the singles Alex wrote,” Michael smiled, looking around the house and at the couple with another deep breath. “I’m his biggest fan, I think. But um, thank you, I can’t stay, I gotta hit the road back to-” he started to say home, but that hadn’t been true for a long time. “Back to Roswell.”

*** 

Hours later with his heart heavy, Michael checked into his room at the Super 8. Normally the expense would have bothered him, but after his day, he figured he was entitled to a little bit of spoiling. And if it was sad that plain wrapped soaps and tiny shampoo bottles constituted spoiling, well, he was content with that.

The clunky black case of his small portable DVD player was propped open on the hotel bed. It was a hand-me-down as technology and electronic gadgets moved into smoother, more versatile means. For him, it was perfect to watch a borrowed DVD in his Airstream since he lacked cable.

With the entire contents of a motel conditioner in his hair, Michael started the paused video file. The shaky dark footage started playing, the sound crackling with amateur hands, before the clear, strong voice of Alex Manes filled the air. 

It was probably pathetic to watch this cribbed footage from YouTube, but the romanticism that fueled his journey down 1-40 was also the same sentiment that preserved this moment in amber for Michael. Pulling open his old notebook from high school, he let Alex’s voice singing about love and loss carry him through the calculations of point atmospheric entry and the parallax distance of habitable stars.

It would be a hard journey, but Michael didn’t know any other kind at this point. Roswell wasn’t his home. Nashville wasn’t going to be home either, but the universe was ever-expanding, surely there was a place for Michael?

[artificiallyimplantedmemories]

[ ooc: FINALLY got around to this, after the foible this morning with it, so this is try number 2 at ep5 liveblog/commentary... under the cut as always ]

this has a speedrun/summary version of impressions the first third of it because I’d already watched all of that before tumblr ate the post so I might miss stuff idk. and then after that it’s my typical sporadic livebloggy madness. this got SUPER long oops

We have a lot of motifs in this episode, including the bloodied shield, the use of the shield as essentially a giant blunt blade rather than a shield, the conflict between different people’s interpretations of what ‘fighting because one has to’ means.

Walker is running from himself at the beginning, but where does one run to when the war is in your head? Particularly poignant for me (because I know that in the comics he joins the army to emulate his deceased brother) is how deeply the loss of a brother-in-arms cuts, but even more so how much the thought that he’s disappointed Lamar hurts. I think that in some ways, Lamar may have been a part of John’s moral compass, and his sustained belief in him has always helped him. It’s a reversed parallel to Steve and Bucky, actually, and I could elaborate on that but it might turn into an essay.

John tries to walk away from the fight at first, partly because he has other priorities, and partly because I think he does genuinely recognize that Bucky and Sam are good people. Of course there’s also the layer that he thinks of them as the original Cap’s sidekicks and therefore as the new Cap shouldn’t fight them, but… anyway the fight sequence is interesting to watch because it does show John as fairly well matched with them despite the fact that MCU Bucky has the serum. Part of this might be their reluctance to kill him while John has given up the façade and is now willing to do that in order to further his own plans as long as he doesn’t get caught. He cannot lose the title he’s given or he’ll be lost, now that he doesn’t have his best friend.

“Don’t go down that road. Believe me, it doesn’t end well.” “I’m not like you.” The difference is that Bucky was brainwashed. Yes, he’s still ruthless even after he’s broken free of it, but he’s taking conscious steps to be better. And thus the determination behind the “Yeah we do.” The shield deserves better than being in John’s care.

I paused to write and stopped on this face I’m laughing

The “why are you making me do this?” is obviously coming from a place of delusion but also speaks to how John’s personal motives are super unclear. Why did he take on the mantle of Captain America when it was established from the very beginning that he wasn’t completely comfortable with it? Was it, as he told Lamar, because he wanted a chance to be good? (In which case, obviously he’s having a breakdown about not achieving that?) Was it for his ego? Because he was commanded to? Having a John muse makes this a very interesting thing to explore.

Seeing Bucky’s arm get electrified and him knocking out because that’s directly tied to his neural implants was not any easier the second time around oof

“This isn’t you, John.” Further proof that Sam Wilson has more heart than legit anyone else, he’s still trying to believe that John is good.

I find it interesting that they have John remove the cowl in order to growl “I am Captain America.” It speaks to a rejection of what the old Cap was (though the cowl is the US Agent / updated Cap one) and his insistence that his version of Captain America is valid. (It’s not.)

Also because my literary obsessed reads way too much into tiny things that the show runners probably didn’t really care about as metaphors, I definitely saw the ripping of Sam’s wing as a reference to the restriction of freedoms by the US government lol just ignore me on that.

Bucky and Sam repeatedly saving each other’s asses is my jam. Also Sam using the power from the wing pack keeps reminding me from my observation back at the beginning that he’d do so well with full out repulsors. Tony totally would have set him up with that if MCU hadn’t killed him alas.

More of me finding parallels where there shouldn’t be any: they broke Walker’s left arm, just like they took away Bucky’s left.

I took a screenshot of this image when I watched it in the previous round, and it’s still going to haunt me. There’s something so tired and haunted and defeated here.

Bucky gives Sam the shield, because there’s nobody who deserves it more. The look on Sam’s face when he takes it and tries to clean the blood off of it (physically and symbolically of course) is heartbreaking. It’s a man who regrets his decision not to take it on originally but also now has to deal with the implications of both taking on that responsibility (in a country that doesn’t treat him fairly) and whether people will approve of anyone carrying the shield after John has fucked it up so badly.

A note that carries over from my first watch: people don’t usually refer to their enemies by first name. It’s done in comic books and movies with some frequency to remind people who is who, and in this case may also be a bit of humanization for Karli, a reminder that she is a sympathetic character despite the vicious way she does things sometimes. I also appreciate them reminding the audience that she’s competent and has a lot of support.

ALSO TORRES MY DARLING I’VE MISSED YOU. I wonder if Sam letting him keep the wings will actually develop into something (a la comics) or if they’re leaving that open ended. Also his smile is literal sunshine I’m not even joking about this, please give me all the Joaquín content thank you. Just look at him!!

I think by this point most viewers are fairly convinced that John Walker is Not A Good Man, but I think that his rant about always having done what he was told and done it well is purposeful and poignant here. His motives have always been to serve, but the matter of who he’s serving (or more importantly what - the military machine, the government that simply gives orders without thinking of the personal ramifications for those who carry them out) is put in contrast to Sam and Bucky, who are also veterans. I can’t help but draw parallels to the Nuremberg trials, people who did heinous things under orders and try to use that as an excuse for their innocence. It’s a reminder that a person doesn’t have to be visibly part of an evil group in order to do evil things. I won’t outline everything here but at least as far as the US Military goes, more info can be found at https://www.thebalancecareers.com/military-orders-3332819 about how and when it is defensible for people in the military to disobey orders.

You can hear John’s voice break during his rant, the conviction that he was doing what he was supposed to. He could have gotten away with more if he hadn’t been such a public figure, but an “other than honorable discharge” lmao what a diplomatic way to tell him how badly he fucked up xD

Also hey it’s Olivia. Most people forgot that John has a wife. (I’m glad she’s telling him to visit Lemar’s parents, they deserve that.) Also is this Valentina or is this a Skrull? Only time will tell.  (She’s probably not a Skrull, FATWS is too short for that, but on the other hand I’m not sure how I feel about the implications otherwise. Is she a SHIELD infiltrator? Is she manipulating him on SHIELD’s behalf? Did they steal the name and get rid of her backstory?)

The resignation on Zemo’s face during his encounter with Bucky (especially with a gun to his face) is unnerving. Zemo calling Bucky “James” made Natasha outright glare though. Her priorities are a little odd. But I’m glad Bucky didn’t kill him, I’m glad he’s not allowing him to be a victim of his conditioning. The Dora Milaje are taking him to the Raft… oh wait there might be Skrulls after all.

“If you ain’t bitter, you’re blind.” I feel that. I feel that hard. But I also understand the misplaced blame, the tendency for people who have been Through It seeing anyone outside their minority as their oppressor.

For someone who has dealt with the immensity of the trauma that Isaiah has, including the experimentation, the social isolation, the experience of being in the jail system for so long, it’s no surprise at all that he would be quick to assign blame. Add to that the risk of being killed for being part of an experiment that you didn’t agree to partake in early on, followed by extensive experimentation after? There are so many factors at play: violation of self, lack of agency, lack of safety… D: and the physical reminders of them are everywhere. look at the scarring D: D: D:

The range of emotion in this is so good, the acting is so good, I’m just overwhelmed with how honest this feels. 

“They erased me. My history. But they’ve been doing that for 500 years.” OOF

The crease in Sam’s brow when he’s told that no self-respecting black man would wanna be Captain America, there’s such righteous indignation there, but he has to temper it in the face of Isaiah’s grief. Over and over he proves himself capable of putting compassion first and foremost.

This sibling dynamic has been really nice to see. There’s tension, there’s individual struggles, there’s support (not always in the ways it needs to be, but they’re trying), but more obviously there’s a depth of love there. Seeing it is so rewarding.

LOOK AT THE WHOLE COMMUNITY SHOWING UP!! Oh man so this gets me, because I grew up in a neighborhood where we supported each other and threw block parties and everyone trooped into our backyard to play on the swingset that had been left behind by the previous owner. It wasn’t family, sure, but we took care of each other. In India, it was even more so, and even now when I go there, I crash at my next door neighbors’ place instead of my family’s house most of the time. I miss having that sense of community, that closeness to people because we all had each other’s backs. Where I live now, I don’t even know most of my neighbors’ names. It sucks.

Ahh, there’s the part that I’ve seen the gifs of, with Bucky showing up at the boat. I like the idea that Bucky has slowly come to think of his metal arm as more of a normal part of him despite the ache and heaviness of it. Of course in MCU, he has the serum so maybe he doesn’t notice as much, but I can’t imagine he wouldn’t experience phantom pain in it until at least he internalized it as his own body part, and even then the shoulder joint would probably ache. Still, perhaps it’s more akin to an old injury than a foreign object now, and therefore Bucky still does what he would do naturally, using his dominant hand instead of the ‘enhanced’ one.

I have Feelings about Bucky saying “I’m Bucky” with a smile okay I HAVE FEELINGS

Bucky must have worked the docks a lot way back in the 40s. His level of competence is one of natural instinct, he’s just used to it. I wonder if he worked extra to help pay for medication for Steve after Sarah passed away… oh, more feels :(

Meanwhile Sam is over here doing his human best and I love that. He calls in the crew to help, relies on people, but it never stops him from being a part of it. He’s not taking a managerial role, he’s another tooth on the gear.

“They don’t care if you wear small tee shirts or have six toes or your mom’s your aunt” lmao my brain went ‘You don’t happen to have six toes on your right foot, do you?’ ‘Do you start all of your conversations this way?’ But also look how happy they look here!!!

“Don’t flirt with my sister. Because if you do I’ll have Carlos cut you up, feed you to the fish.” SAM YOU’RE SO RIDICULOUS. But also the way Bucky goes a little pouty after. <3

Lemar’s family! Okay so Walker is straight up lying to them about who it was that killed him, but given the circumstances, I don’t expect anything different. And perhaps part of that is to assuage the family about the fact that there’s ‘justice’ done, but part of it also has to be a slight ego play, and you can see on his face that when they talk about him resting easier, his jaw sets. He’s going to go after who actually did it, whether he has the jurisdiction to or not. He does seem genuinely regretful and I will reiterate the brother-in-arms bit above. Walker needed Lamar as a support system, a confidante, and a nudge in the right direction.

What is Bucky thinking about when he sees the kids playing with the shield? Is he remembering his own childhood? Is he thinking about a future where the shield will be valued and honored and carried right again? Is he thinking about what it’s like to have a family, and missing his own? I need to know these things -_- -> WAIT I THINK IT GOT ANSWERED DURING THE TRAINING MONTAGE. Oh it’s even more than I thought augh. The closest thing he’s got left to a family is the shield because Steve was as much a part of it as it was a part of Captain America dfsjhdgfsd

Sarah telling the boys off! Good for you, girl. (Also I’m laughing at “she’s a very mean person” and “there’s a prowess that goes into my madness” pfft Sam)

“You gotta stop looking to other people to tell you who you are.” is SUCH AN IMPORTANT SENTIMENT. And “You want to climb out of the hell you’re in, do the work.” As someone who deals with a lot of mental illness bullshit, this is the TRUEST statement. Yeah, you might need help. It might be therapy, it might be meds, it might be other coping skills and distractions, but if you don’t want to be better and do better for yourself and face the rawest and most uncomfortable parts of your psyche, you don’t improve. You stay complacent, stay stuck in that rut, doing the same things that didn’t work before. I need to say it doubly because you know some people are going to say that Sam’s not giving Bucky the support he needs to climb out. IT’S NOT HIS JOB. He will choose to give support when Bucky asks/needs because he’s a compassionate person, but this speech right here is compassion, it is exactly the tough love he says it is. Bucky needed to be called out on not coping and I’m glad that it happened.

….also now kiss, thank you.

“We’re partners.” “Co-workers.” “But we’re also a couple of guys with a mutual friend.” “Friend’s now gone.” “So we’re a couple guys.” XD -cue vine- two guys chilling on a boat and…- wait that’s not how it goes.

“This is our history. We can’t lose this fight.”

“But what would be the point of all this pain and sacrifice if I wasn’t willing to stand up and keep fighting?”

Training montage! I hope he doesn’t slice his fingers off on that shield yeesh. Also my Clint muse is watching those flips like oooooh the dude’s got moves on the ground too now, oh no.

Okay we get that the Flag Smashers are going for intimidation but the trope of the red lighting makes me laugh every time. Nobody is going to turn out the lights and then turn on a different set of conveniently red lights that probably weren’t normally installed in that building. Even emergency lighting wouldn’t look like that. It’s just funny, I dunno. And of course we get a cliffhanger ending.

Post-credits we get John’s new shield being built, and all I can say is 1) if he’s able to pound that out, clearly his new shield isn’t vibranium, and 2) LEARN HOW TO WELD NEATLY AUGH THAT WAS AWFUL XD

Overall thoughts: Good episode! Not a huge amount of plot furthering, aside from the very last bit, but good insight into characterization and believably building the relationship between Sam and Bucky while also reading into motivations and differing views from people who come from similar circumstances. I’m really enjoying the compare & contrast I’m getting to do between Isaiah and Bucky and Sam, because there are so many overlaps and stark differences between them. The first half also gave us some great headway into understanding John as a person, though it’s possible some of that is me overanalyzing because I have a muse for him.

[miswaken]

excerpts from House of Leaves that I just think are neat + inform my portrayal of Alice

---------------------------------

      Of course, [Will] Navidson’s pastoral take on his family’s move hardly reflects the far more complicated and significant impetus behind the project -- namely his foundering relationship with longtime companion Karen Green. While both have been perfectly content not to marry, Navidson’s constant assignments abroad have lead to increased alienation and untold personal difficulties. After nearly eleven years of constant departures and brief returns, Karen has made it clear that Navidson must either give up his professional habits or lose his family. Ultimately unable to make this choice, he compromises by turning reconciliation into a subject for documentation.

      None of this, however, is immediately apparent. In fact it requires some willful amnesia of the more compelling sequences ahead, if we are to detect the subtle valences operating between Will and Karen; or as Donna York phrased it, “the way they talk to each other, they way they look after each other, and of course the way they don’t.”

-------------------------------

      In the living room, Navidson discovers the echoes emanating from a dark doorless hallway whish has appeared out of nowhere in the west wall. Without hesitating, Navidson plunges in after them. Unfortunately the living room Hi 8 cannot follow him nor for that matter can Karen. She freezes on the threshold, unable to push herself into the darkness towards the faint flicker of light within...

      This is the first sign of Karen’s chronic disability. Up until now there has never been even the slightest indication that she suffers from crippling claustrophobia. By the time Navidson and the two children are safe and sound in the living room, Karen is drenched in sweat.

--------------------------------

      Navidson was no longer around, except of course Karen still saw him every day and in a way she had never seen him before -- not as a projection of her own insecurities and demons but just as Will Navidson, in flickering light, flung up by a 16mm projector on a paint-white wall.

-----------------------------------

      Leslie Stern, M.D.: More importantly Karen, what does it mean to you?

      Funny how out of this impressive array of modern day theorists, scientists, writers, and others, it is Karen’s therapist who asks, or rather forces, the most significant question. Thanks to her, Karen goes on to fashion another short piece in which she, surprisingly enough, never mentions the house, let alone any of the comments made by the glitterati.

      It is an extraordinary twist. Not once are those multiplying hallways ever addressed. Not once does Karen dwell on their darkness and cold. She produces six minutes of film that has absolutely nothing to do with that place. Instead her eye (and her heart) turn to what matters most to her about Ash Tree Lane; what in her own words... “that wicked place stole from me.”

      ...Karen gives her piece the somewhat faltering title A Brief History Of Who I Love...

-------------------------------

      There are only 8,160 frames in Karen’s film and yet they serve as a perfect counterpoint to that infinite stretch of hallways, rooms and stairs. The house is empty, her piece is full. The house is dark, her film glows. A growl haunts that place, her place is blessed by Charlie Parker. On Ash Tree Lane stands a house of darkness, cold, and emptiness. In 16mm stands a house of light, love, and colour.

      By following her heart, Karen made sense of what that place was not. She also discovered what she needed more than anything else. She stopped seeing Fowler, cut off questionable liaisons with other suitors, and while her mother talked of breaking up, selling the house, and settlements, Karen began to prepare herself for reconciliations.

      Of course she had no idea what that would entail.

      Or how far she would have to go.

-----------------------------

      “He’s still alive,” she tells Reston over the phone. “I heard him last night. I couldn’t understand what he said. But I know I heard his voice.”

      Reston arrives the next day and stays until midnight, never hearing a thing. He seems more than a little concerned about Karen’s mental health.

      “If he is still in there Karen,” Reston says quietly. “He’s been there for over a month. I can’t see how there’s any way he could survive.”

      But a few hours after Reston leaves, Karen smiles again, apparently catching somewhere inside her the faint voice of Navidson. This happens over and over again, whether late at night or in the middle of the day. Sometimes Karen calls out to him, sometimes she just wanders from room to room, pushing her ear against walls or floors. Then on the afternoon of May 10th, she finds in the children’s bedroom, born out of nowhere, Navidson’s clothes, remnants of his pack and sleeping bag, and scattered across the floor, from corner to corner, cartridges of film, boxes of 16mm, and easily a dozen video tapes.

      She immediately calls Reston and tells him what has happened, asking him to drive over as soon as he can. Then she locates an AC adapter, plugs in a Hi 8 and begins rewinding one of the newly discovered tapes.

      The angle from the room mounted camcorder does not provide a view of her Hi 8 screen. Only Karen’s face is visible. Unfortunately, for some reason, she is also slightly out of focus. In fact the only thing in focus is the wall behind her where some of Daisy and Chad’s drawings still hang. The shot lasts an uncomfortable fifteen seconds, until abruptly that immutable surface disappears. In less than a blink, the white wall along with the drawings secured with yellowing scotch tape vanishes into an inky black.

      Since Karen faces the opposite direction, she fails to notice the change. Instead her attention remains fixed on the Hi 8 which has just finished rewinding the tape. But even as she pushes play, the yawn of dark does not waver. In fact it almost seems to be waiting for her, for the moment when she will finally divert her attention from the tiny screen and catch sight of the horror looming up behind her, which is of course exactly what she does when she finds out that the video tape shows...

-----------------------------

      nothing more now than the mere dark. The tape is blank.

      Finally when Karen does turn around to discover the real emptiness waiting behind her, she does not scream. Instead her chest heaves, powerless for a moment to take anything in or expel anything out. Oddly enough as she starts to retreat from the children’s bedroom, it almost looks as if something catchers her attention. A few minutes later, she returns with a halogen flashlight and steps towards the edge.

      Hanan Jabara suggests Karen heard something, though there is nothing even remotely like a sound on the Hi 8. Carlos Ellsberg agrees with Jabara: “Karen stops because of something she hears.” Only he qualifies this statement by adding, “the sound is obviously imagined. Another example of how the mind, any mind, consistently seeks to impose itself upon the abyss.”

      As everyone knows, Karen stands there on the brink for several minutes, pointing her flashlight into the darkness and calling out for Navidson. When she finally does step inside, she takes no deep breath and makes no announcement. She just steps forward and disappears behind the black curtain. A second later that cold hollow disappears too, replaced by the wall, exactly as it was before, except for one thing: all the children’s drawings are gone.

      Karen’s action inspired Paul Auster to conjure up a short internal monologue tracing the directions of her thoughts. Donna Tartt also wrote an inventive portrayal of Karen’s dilemma. Except in Tartt’s version, instead of stepping into darkness, Karen returns to New York and marries a wealthy magazine publisher. Purportedly there even exists an opera based on The Navidson Record, written from Karen’s perspective, with this last step into the void serving as the subject for the final aria. 

      Whatever ultimately allows Karen to overcome her fears, there is little doubt her love for Navidson is the primary catalyst. Her desire to embrace him as she has never done before defeats the memories of that dark well... In this moment, she displays the restorative power of what Erich Fromm terms the development of “symbiotic relationships” through personal courage.

      Critic Guyon Keller argues that the role of vision is integral to Karen’s success:

I believe Karen could never have crossed that line had she not first made those two remarkable cinematic moment: What Some Have Thought and A Brief History Of Who I Love. By relearning to see Navidson, she saw what he wasn’t and consequently began to see herself much more clearly.

      Esteemed Italian translator Sophia Blynn takes Keller’s comments a little further:

The most important light Karen carried into that place was the memory of Navidson. And Navidson was no different. Though it’s commonly assumed his last [recorded] word was “care” or the start of “careful,” I would argue differently. I believe this utterance is really just the first syllable of the very name on which his mind and his heart had finally come to rest. His only hope, his only meaning: “Karen.”

      Regardless of what finally enabled her to walk across that threshold, forty-nine minutes later a neighbor saw Karen crying on the front lawn, a pink ribbon in her hair, Navidson cradled in her lap.

------------------------------------------

      As to what happened after Karen disappeared from view, the only existing account comes from a short interview conducted by a college journalist from William & Mary:

Karen: As soon as I walked in there, I started shivering. It was so cold and dark. I turned around to see where I was but where I’d come from was gone. I started hyperventilating. I couldn’t breathe. I was going to die. But somehow I managed to keep moving. I kept putting one foot in front of the other until I found him.

Q: You knew he was there?

Karen: No, but that’s what I was thinking. And then he was there, right at my feet, no clothes on and all curled up. His hand was white as ice. [She holds back the tears.] When I saw him like that it didn’t matter anymore where I was. I’d never felt that, well, free before.

[Long pause]

Q: What happened then?

Karen: I held him. He was alive. He made a sound when I cradled his head in my arms. I couldn’t understand what he was saying at first but then I realized the flashlight was hurting his eyes. So I turned it off and held him in the darkness.

[Another long pause]

Q: How did you get him out of the house?

Karen: It just dissolved.

Q: Dissolved? What do you mean?

Karen: Like a ad dream. We were in pitch blackness and then I saw, no... actually my eyes were closed. I felt this warm, sweet air on my face, and then I opened my eyes and I could see trees and grass. I thought to myself, “We’ve died. We’ve died and this is where you go after you die.” But it turned out to be just our front yard.

Q: You’re saying the house dissolved?

Karen: [No response]

Q: How’s that possible? It’s still there, isn’t it?

END OF INTERVIEW

--------------

      In Passion for Pity and Other Recipes For Disaster (London: Greenhill Books, 1996) Helmut Muir cried: “They both live. They even get married. It’s a happy ending.”

      Which is true. Both Karen and Will Navidson survive their ordeal and they do exchange conjugal vows in Vermont. Of course, is it really possible to look at Navidson’s ravaged face, the patch covering his left eye, the absence of a hand, the crutch wedged under his armpit, and call it a “happy” ending? Even putting aside the physical cost, what about the unseen emotional trauma which Muir so casually dismisses?

      The Navidsons may have left the house, they may have even left Virginia, but they will never be able to leave the memory of that place.

[random-imagines-blog]

Let Her Go {Emma Frost x Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 3294 Summary: After getting rejected by someone you thought you loved, you do eventually find all you’re looking for. Song inspiration: Rhapsody in Blue - Gershwin (x)

The music coming from your room did not have a source that most people expected. You had no radio, no record player, and definitely no tape cassette. Nor did you have a television that might have produced the sound. Rather, it was coming from your very pores, the emotions that you were feeling. Manifesting sounds and music was your power, though it was not a very useful one unless the disco was growing dull or you needed to get someone’s attention quickly. Rhapsody in Blue was loud, expressing your emotion to the other ladies in the boarding house that you were living in temporarily. You had your window open, the curtain was fluttering outside of it, having been drawn out by the breeze, and you sat next to it, enjoying the sunshine on your face.  It was the first time that you had enjoyed anything in the last month. Since you left your teaching position at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.

You sighed as you saw a redhead walking down the street with her dog. Even the flash of that hair color was enough to bring you back to your slump, the song skipping to one of the piano solos to match her steps. You had gotten away from the school so you wouldn’t think of Jean Grey anymore, but everything brought back memories. Damn, how you missed the excitement of the school, and the missions that you were brought on.

You turned away from the window, having seen enough people for the day. Your eyes went towards the empty bottle of vodka that sat near your door, ready to act as a doorstop since the glass was heavy enough. You had promised yourself only one bottle during this hard time. Rejection was tough to deal with, especially from someone you thought perhaps would be your soulmate. Just one bottle, any more would be excessive. Just merely one bottle.

The jazz surrounded you like a hug. If you were in a better mood, you might even dance to it. Instead, you sat alone, traumatized at the idea of being close to another human. It was nearly enough to make you cry.

The air around you grew heavy, like something big was about to happen. You resisted the shudder that went up your spine, and the shiver that threatened to overtake you. You think you’d be  used to this by now. There was a knock at the door, and a beautiful, tall and leggy blonde walked in, closing the door behind her. It was her that brought the feeling with her everywhere that she went.

“I don’t  need to read your mind to tell how miserable you are,” She said, tossing her bag onto the flowery comforter that covered your bed. She was a vision in white; nearly blindingly so. “Why is it so hot in here all the time? I feel like I’m going to melt.”

Emma Frost, everybody. The person who has been keeping you sane since the whole fiasco. Since you foolishly thought that Jean Grey might be your soulmate and you confessed your love to her, only to be rejected. The only person who didn’t whisper about you behind your back. Or, at least, you haven’t caught her doing it anyway.

“Because I don’t pay enough for air conditioning,” You said, pointing towards the open window, where the breeze was your only source of air. “I mean, if you want to go into my landlady’s mind and convince her to put some units in, I’d be highly grateful.”

“I might,” She said, sitting on the edge of your bed. Her one leg crossed over the other, as cool as a cucumber. “Or you can just come stay with me. I told you - I have the room.”

She had to talk a little bit higher as the music kept floating through you. You kept your mind focused on the clarinet, the piano, the grooves of the song. Because if you didn’t, there was a chance that it might go to something inappropriate.

“And have to deal with this all the time?” You said, meaning the music coming off of you. “You can barely handle it when I’m in a mediocre mood. And don’t even get me started on what I actually sound like in the shower.”

Emma chuckled, going through her purse for her frosty-pink lipgloss and applied it slowly without a mirror. How she made everything look so effortless, you could not understand. “Honey, I always make sure I know what I’m getting into before I make an offer. Especially one that breaks my rule of not getting too close to people. But you need a place with privacy. Your neighbors are sick of your crying at night.”

“Did they tell you that, or are they just thinking it?”

Emma just gave me a knowing look with her big baby blues. You sighed, figuring that it was the latter since they were all too polite to actually complain.

“I can afford this place, you know? Being independent, it feels nice,”  You said, wishing you were even able of convincing yourself of that fact. Of course, Emma didn’t buy it.

“You quit your job, and you’re living off of your very meagre savings. And all you do is stare out that tiny little window, trying to see if you can spot her when she comes to town. Y/N, you can do better than that. If you’re really that bothered, you can pay rent at my place. I know how good it feels to be able to give yourself a second chance, and I want to help you with yours. Come on, don’t make me pressure you.”

You knew that she could be in your head and hating where you are within a second. You looked around the dreary room with it’s fake-cheery yellow wallpaper, the window that only opened halfway up, the gingham curtains, the flower bedspread. None of this was actually yours. The only things that were happened to be the clothes that were still in your suitcase. The fact that you haven’t unpacked spoke volumes.

“I hate when you make a point, you know that?”

-

You found a job close by to where Emma lived. It wasn’t as cushy a job as working at Xavier’s school, but you couldn’t claim that you were in love with any of your co-workers which was a nice change. And admittedly, living with Emma was the best decision that you had ever made.

When you came home after dark, Emma was there with take-out, since neither of you were really the cooking kinda people. She was much too busy and glamorous, while you - you were honestly just a bit lazy after working all day. The only downside was that sometimes her long, blonde hairs could be found on your clothing, since she shed like a damn sheepdog. You teased her about being able to make voodoo dolls of her, and there’s nothing her powers could do about it, which was just enough to get an actual emotion out of her, rather than her perfect expressionless face.

You started noticing more and more about your friend as you spent an increasing amount of time with her. She wore white as if it were going out of style; and it probably was because nobody rocked it as well as she did. You noticed how she shunned most human contact, but stayed close to you. Your pinkie fingers were side by side as you both rested on the couch, watching a movie on her television screen. You noticed that she didn’t use her telepathic ability on you, despite having ample opportunity. She actually took the time to ask your thoughts, or what you wanted. She didn’t invade.

“You look like you’re thinking about something,” Emma said, walking into the room, her white heeled boots clicking against the wooden floors. “It’s not that ginger again, is it?”

“No, actually, I’ve barely thought about her in days,” You admitted. Emma raised an eyebrow, then joined you on the couch, waiting for you to continue to speaking. “I think that what you said when I told you I was leaving the school was right. That it was just an infatuation from seeing her everyday. A crush that I blew out of proportion. So ... thank you. I might not have been able to see reason if it wasn’t for you.”

“Hmm-” The corner of Emma’s lips went up into a half-smile. “You’re welcome. Any other crushes that you want me to ruin for you while I’m at it? That one woman you work with is rather cute. Workplace cute, not model cute, obviously but-”

“No, no, I’m okay,” You said, laughing. It felt so good to laugh again. You were becoming yourself once more, but a stronger version. A more aware version. “How come it’s always about my crushes? You never tell me about yours. Come on, you worked with some pretty attractive people, even if some of them were villains.”

“You think so?” Emma asked, raising an eyebrow. She reached past you to the table where your cup of tea was sitting on a saucer, and helped herself to a sip. “None of them were quite my type.”

“Oh,” You said, a little surprised. “Well, what is your type?”

You didn’t even mind that she was drinking your tea. You were just so curious about why she never opened up about her own love life, and intrigued that she was doing it now.

“Oh, I don’t know. There is one person but ... it would never happen so I’ve decided to stop entertaining the thought.”

“Are they married or something? Because believe me, anyone that would turn you down is a fool. I’ve been living with you for a while now and you haven’t annoyed me yet, that’s a very good sign.”

Emma stayed silent as she thought, and as you watched, she tapped her fingers against the teacup. For once, you wished that you were the telepath so you could figure out what was so hard for her to say aloud.

“Oh come on,” You said, nudging her with your elbow. “Whoever it is, you can tell me. I swear I won’t even tease you for it. Unless it’s Logan, because that man has so  much body hair it’s disgusting.”

Emma started to laugh at that, and put the teacup back down on the saucer. “Oh, honey, no,” She shook her head between giggles. “Definitely not Logan.”

“Then it can’t be that bad. Come on....” You bothered and bothered until you knew that you would get her way.

“Fine!” She said, throwing her hands up into the air. “Do you really want to know that bad?” You nodded enthusiastically. You’ve never seen her so nervous about admitting something before. This was not the witty and calm Emma Frost that you knew well. “My type is you, exactly you,” She said, dryly, reaching for the tea cup again but you stopped her by grabbing onto her wrist gently.

“I’m not laughing, if you hadn’t noticed,” You said, turning even more to face her. You let go of her, but she didn’t reach for the tea again. She was just reaching for it as a distraction, something to keep her hands busy as you both processed what had just been said.

“Yeah, I noticed.” Emma said, putting her hands on the knees over her immaculate dress. “But you’re not doing much of anything at the moment, are you?”

“I’m thinking,” You said, crossing your arms in front of you. “What was it you said - infatuation because we see each other every day?”

“I would think that was it, if I hadn’t had feelings for you for about a year before you moved in.” She sighed, uncrossing her legs and just crossed them the other way. “It’s fine, y/n, you’ve been through a lot. That’s why I wasn’t going to say anything. I know you’re not unbreakable and made of diamond, like me.”

“Yeah, well,” You said, trying desperately to think of something to say. “Can your diamond skin do this?”

You focused on the song ‘Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend’ in your head, and it flowed out of you just as easily as if it were a blink or a breath. Marilyn Monroe’s sweet and sultry voice filled the living room, tuning out the television program that was on Emma’s tv. She stared at you, not saying anything until the actual line of ‘Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend’ was sung.

“No, I can’t do that,” She said, getting onto her feet. “But thank you for telling me through song how you feel.”

You realized the connotations of the song, and how Emma had taken it. She was your best friend, but you had essentially just showed her that it was all that she could be. “Can you just wait a second please?” You said, jumping up yourself. “I’m still not laughing, and I’m not ... not upset about it either.”

Emma stopped in her doorframe, leaning against it. How did she make every motion look so graceful? “Good to see you don’t hate me,” She stated.

“I could never, Em!” You protested at the very thought. “How could I ever hate you? You’ve given me everything - my life back, most importantly. I just ... I’m not good at the emotions thing as we both clearly just found out. And I don’t want anything to ever come between us...”

“So nothing is changing despite my big admission, pour the champagne,” Emma said, clearly dripping in sarcasm. “Goddamnit, let me think for a second, alright?” You said, collapsing back on the couch, running your fingers against your scalp in frustration. “This does change things. A lot of things. I just never thought that someone like you would ever like someone like me. You’re so... perfect.”

“But not perfect enough for you to consider,” Emma said, her voice loaded with lack of emotion, which was an emotion in itself. You knew what that tone had meant. That was how you spoke to Jean after she rejected you. How you spoke to everyone, actually. Hiding your emotions was a way to protect yourself.

“Don’t think that way, you know that I care about you,” You pleaded.

“I know,” Emma said, moving a blonde hair out of her face with a quick movement of her head. “I’m not letting it affect anything. If it changes how we are, that’s on you.”

-

You took a couple of days to think about things. Emma had gone off on a mission of some sort, and you laid around the penthouse apartment, doing next to nothing but worrying about her. Yes, she was made of diamonds when she wanted to be. And yes, she was a telepath and could anticipate any move against her. But that didn’t sooth your mind much. Becoming so close to her over the last couple of weeks and then having the threat of losing her - it put things into perspective.

You jumped up when you heard the door open, reaching for something that could be used as protection. You settled on a lamp, not realizing that it would probably cost you a month’s salary to replace it if you actually broke it.

The room was dark, and you could just see a form moving near the front door. The burglar was being bold, if that’s what it was. You held the lamp up and were about to bring it down on the burglar when the light turned on and revealed it to actually be the person you had been worrying about all this time.

“A lamp, really?” Emma asked, lightly taking the lamp from your hands as you paused to take the sight of her in. “A frying pan would probably be better.”

“I -” You started to stutter before realizing you weren’t even sure what it was you wanted to say. You dropped your arms to your sides, feeling like a sullen child. “I missed you.”

“Did you?” Her tone was cool and collected, as always. “You almost didn’t.” She set the lamp down on the closest table, letting the cord dangle off for now. Her last name suited her well. She felt chilly to the bone tonight.

“I would have kissed it better,” You said, feeling warm enough for the both of you as you admitted that. She arched an eyebrow in your direction, then walked towards the kitchen. You followed her, as silent as you could muster, though you were letting off some sounds without meaning to. Rhapsody in Blue. Always that song.

“And what changed while I was gone?” She asked, pouring herself a large glass of water, and swallowed it down. She looked tired, not as put together as usual. But her attitude didn’t differ from before.

“I had lots of time to think,” You muttered, with her barely able to hear you over the clarinet. “I did miss you. And I worried about you the whole time, even though I know that you had it under control. You always do.”

“That’s the grand conclusion that you came up with? That I’m clearly a badass?” She said, turning the cup around in her hands. You felt your mouth go dry.

“Well, not really - I’ve known that for a long time. The conclusion that I came to, in your words, is that I’d kind of like to change our friendship. Into something more than a friendship.” The song rose into a crescendo, your hopeful feelings taking on a musical charge. You could feel electricity in the air. The hairs on your arm were sticking up. “It took me a lot of time to let Jean go, and then even more for me to make sure that how I feel about you isn’t just ... a rebound. It’s not, I’m positive.”

“Took you long enough,” Emma said with a smirk. “I’ve been able to read you easier than a book, y/n. That’s why I confessed to you when I did. Because I knew that you felt the same way and needed a nudge to say it.” She put the glass into the sink, then approached you. She took your face between her hands, so you were forced to look into her beautiful, blue eyes. “Though I have to ask, why is it always this song?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, leaning more into her hands, craving the touch to be stronger.

“When you dream of me, you play this song. So what’s so special about it?” She questioned you, giving you what you needed by coming even closer, your face still at the mercy of her hands.

“I do?” You asked, suddenly concerned at what other music you might have exuded in your sleep. “I suppose it’s because it covers everything I feel about you. Happiness, hope, anxiety at times.”

“You’re an odd one,” Emma said, letting go of you. You felt colder without her, but she took your hand instead. “Come, sleep with me tonight, play it as my lullaby.”

“If that’s what you really want,” You said, going with her extremely willingly.

[agustdmono]

NEIGHBORS; jhs Oneshot (M)

Pairing(s): Jung Hoseok x Reader

Summary: A new family arrived in your neighborhood. You were determined to befriend their one and only son. You definitely weren’t ready for what the boy had in store for you.

Word Count: 9.6K+

Genre(s): ONESHOT! Mature (18+), Smut, bts AU (Boy Next Door Hoseok)

Caution(s): Slight dom!Reader, Slight dom!Hoseok, swearing, dry humping, lots of foreplay, oral (Y/N receives), oral (Hoseok receives), fingering, choking, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms

Author’s Note: We’re back _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):_

You were distraught.

Nothing in the world could ever replace your love for your ex-neighbor: Grandma Margaret. She wasn’t related to you in any way, but you still called her grandma. You’ll miss the cookies that she bakes exactly at 1:23 PM or the smiles she gives you whenever she sits on her front porch. For your twentieth birthday, she gave you her old vinyl player and you cried. Literally.

“Y/N, dear, I’m just a few houses down,” Margaret chuckled.

“I know, but neighbors are special,” you sniffled, placing your hand on your chest to add a dramatic effect.

She rolled her eyes at your actions, but you knew she was amused. It didn’t take very long for you to get along with her. She had a similar personality to yours―basically an older version of you.

“I’m still your neighbor, hon,” she spoke before taking a small sip from her tea.

“No! The point is, you ain’t next to me.”

The two of you sat on the chairs in the gazebo at the front of your house, casually conversing about what’s been going on. She informed you that your new neighbors should be coming in today and you whined, earning a small smack from her cane. Honestly, you’ll even miss getting whacked by her cane.

“Come walk me back. Enjoy my company while you can .”

Of course, you complied. You got up as you held out your arm for her to grab. Both of you managed to climb down the stairs before a moving truck drove past your house and parked on the vacant house’s driveway. You ignored the sound of doors slamming because you were too focused on bringing Margaret home, but for some reason, she wasn’t budging.

“You should welcome your new neighbors, Y/N.”

You looked at her with pleading eyes, hinting that you really don’t want to meet new people just yet. You still had to leave time to mope about not seeing her as much as you want to. She threateningly raised her cane; which caused you to raise your hands in defeat. You jogged towards the opened cargo and saw two men lifting a couch out of the vehicle. Not wanting to distract them, you waited until they placed the heavy object down at the bottom of the ramp.

“Hello, I’m Y/N L/N! Your neighbor on the right-hand side,” you greeted, trying to seem as cheery as possible.

You looked over at Margaret, who was eyeing you and gave her the thumbs up. You’re only doing this for her in all honesty. It’s not like you’re going to experience a whole ‘boy next door’ type of thing. Those things only exist in movies. Right?

“Ah! Hi there! I’m Jung Junsu and this is my son, Hoseok,” the older looking male draped his arms over Hoseok, who had trouble making eye contact with you.

He was shy, but it didn’t bother you at all. In fact, it made you more curious about the male. Once he finally lifted his head up to look at you, he flashed you a shy yet bright smile. You swore that your heart fell out of your chest. He’s a good looking guy and you weren’t prepared for this moment since you were currently wearing your favorite Kookie slippers.

“Jung Hoseok. Hope we can be friends,” he spoke, slightly bowing his head.

“The feeling is mutual,” you beamed. “Do you guys need help? I just need to walk Granny back to her home; so, I’ll be able to lend a hand right after.”

“Actually, we’d appreciate that. My wife needs a hand with the kitchen utensils.”

“No problem. I’ll be back soon.”

You quickly ran back to Margaret, who was fiddling with her cane. You told her what had happened and she was pleased. She mentioned Hoseok and you couldn’t stop babbling about how cute he was and how his smile nearly blinded you. Both of you finally reached her new home, giving her a long hug before you left to help your new neighbors.

“And here’s when Hoseok dressed himself up for the first time,” Mrs. Jung smiled fondly as she pointed at the young boy in the photo album.

You almost cooed at the photo. He was wearing blue jeans and a bright yellow shirt with mixed-match shoes. You could see how proud he must have felt by the way he was posing in the photo.

“Oh! Let me show you when he took a bath and he-”

“Mom! I think she’s seen enough,” Hoseok snatched the photo book before she could lay her hands on it.

The pink tint on his cheeks was evident and you let out a soft chuckle. His mom rolled her eyes but spared him the embarrassment for the day.

“Just come after your classes and I’ll show it to you, Y/N,” she winked as she got up from the couch and headed for the kitchen, but she halted in her steps. “Will you be joining us for dinner?”

You looked at the clock and jumped from your seat. You were so immersed in helping their family that you completely lost track of time. It was already a couple of minutes past seven. The skies were dark and the stars were coming out. Is your mom gonna lecture your ass? Yes. Was it worth it? Hell yeah.

“I’m sorry, maybe next time? My mom is gonna kill me for not being home the whole day without letting her know,” you couldn’t help but bow since you knew it was an appropriate way to show how apologetic you were.

“Of course! You’re welcomed here anytime, Y/N,” she turned back towards you and gave you a hug; which you reciprocated. “You were a big help today, you must let us thank you someday.”

You almost wanted to cry at how welcoming and friendly the family was. They’ll never replace Grandma Margaret, but you definitely don’t mind them. You quickly bidded goodbye to Junsu before leaving their house. Hoseok, being the gentleman, walked you to the door. You slipped on your slippers and without thought, you hugged him goodbye. He froze on the spot, unclear of what to do; so he patted your back. You weren’t offended at the gesture. In fact, you found it amusing at how unsure he seemed.

“I’ll be seeing you around, neighbor,” you smiled, before making your way towards your house.

Once you reached your door, you turned back to make sure he headed back inside. Much to your surprise, he was standing by the van with his arms crossed over his chest. He wanted to make sure you reached your doorstep safely. Your eyes locked with one another and he shyly waved at you before he jogged back to his door. You heard his door slam and that was your cue to head in.

What a nice fucking guy.

Just after one meeting, you were already swooned by Jung Hoseok.

School.

You dreaded school.

Just the word school, made you want to throw yourself off a cliff, but that’s not the point. The real question is whether Hoseok is attending your school or not. A small part of you hoped he would be.

Okay, maybe a big part of you hoped.

Just to be clear, you don’t have feelings for the male. You’re simply curious and you wanted to know more about him. You already set a goal for yourself: befriend Jung Hoseok. It doesn’t seem impossible since you’ve already earned the trust of his family. You just needed him to trust you.

You followed your morning ritual: brushed your teeth, washed your face, and combing your hair. Of course, you had to check the weather for today. That’s crucial because you didn’t want to make the same mistake again when you wore a sweater in ninety-degree weather. You unlocked your phone and tapped on the weather app.

“Sunny,” you read out loud.

You were hoping to wear one of your hoodies, but the weather has spoken. You grabbed some jean shorts from your closet and threw on a shirt. The boys at your school didn’t really catch your eye; so, there wasn’t really anybody to impress. Before you head to the kitchen, you wanted a small amount of sunlight to light up your room. You walked towards the curtains and pushed them apart a tiny bit.

“There ya g―Shit!”

You jumped at the sight of Mr. Jung on the other side of the window. Thankfully, he was just talking to his wife. Nothing more than that. You recollected yourself, finally walking out of the room.

It’s only in the movies. Hoseok’s room wouldn’t be the one adjacent to yours. What did you expect?

“Spill. Hot neighbor or not?”

You looked at your best friend with confusion. She literally appeared out of nowhere and sat in the seat next to you while you were just trying to enjoy your snack before the professor walks in.

“What are yo―oh, you mean the Jung’s?”

“Judging by the last name, I’ll take that as a yes,” F/N concluded as she nodded her head.

“He’s cute,” you continued. “I wouldn’t say hot.”

“Just wait.”

Sometimes you questioned her intuition, but you decided to let it go. Hoseok is cute. He is literal sunshine. He has a smile that makes you want to coo at him, not devour his mouth. You decided that he was adorable, not hot. Nothing more, nothing less.

“How’s the progress with your boy, Min Yoongi?” You smirked.

“It’s getting…somewhere?”

“And?”

“We’re getting coffee during our two-hour break in between class,” she explained as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“Bro. Just ask him out already.”

“Patience is a virtue, Y/N.”

You scoffed at her comment. The professor finally arrived and you were already falling asleep thirty minutes into the session. You looked over at your best friend, who was watching a movie on her laptop. She looked at you and winked before focusing back on her screen. Instead of doing the same, you decided to leave class to go for a stroll.

The campus was practically empty. You enjoyed the peace and quiet for once. Sometimes the place was loud and bustling with fellow students, but not this time. Placing your earphones into your ears, you continued to walk down the concrete path. Your eyes were too focused on the ground and you didn’t notice somebody walking right into your lane. You two bumped shoulders and you turned to see who it was. 

Hoseok.

“I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t see whe—oh, hello.”

“Hey there, neighbor. You lost?” You asked cooly.

“How did yo—“

“You’re the only person I’ve seen on campus right now. Meaning, everyone’s in class and you’re not.”

“What about you?” He asked, beet red.

“Taking a leisurely stroll, thank you very much.”

He grunted at your answer, but he seemed conflicted. You couldn’t let a lonely person roam aimlessly around campus.

“What’s the room number?” You questioned.

“Oh, um, H-208.”

“Come, come, I shall take you there!”

You began to walk towards the room and he hurriedly followed behind you. The silence between you two was steadily increasing the awkward tension.

“What class is this?” You asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Dance,” he answered right away.

This piqued your interest. A boy who dances? Oh man, that’s like wishing on a shooting star: rare as fuck.

“That’s really cool, not a lot of guys do that nowadays.”

“I’m really passionate about it. I enjoy hip-hop the most.”

The two of you easily conversed with one another. You guys would jump from topic to topic and there was a lack of silence. You were relieved at how quickly he opened up to you. Mentally, you pat yourself on the back. Sadly, the conversation had to come to an end as the two of you reached the entrance of his class.

“Here’s your stop.”

“Thanks a lot, I owe you one.”

“Ahh, it’s no big deal,” you shrugged. “I gotta head back to class now. I’ve been gone for thirty minutes already.”

You turned your heels and began heading back towards your class. You heard a voice, so you turned back around to see who it was.

“Y-You’re fun to talk to and thanks for keeping me company,” he smiled before pushing the door open.

Thump.

“Well, shit.”

“And I said, you need some sugar for your coffee? Because I’m what you need,” your best friend explained.

“You have balls.”

“I’m deter—oh wow, he got some looks.”

You looked to see who your best friend was talking about.

It was Hoseok, leaning against the building while his attention was on his phone. Your best friend wasn’t wrong. You’re surprised that you didn’t notice his black button-up rolled halfway up his forearm or his black skinny jeans that showed off his muscular legs. How could you have missed the important part of his being?

His long wavy hair that fits him so damn perfectly.

Hot damn.

“Hot damn is right.”

“Oh fuck, I said that out loud?”

“Loud and clear,” F/N laughed. “You said he was cute. Now I call bullshit.”

“How’d you know that’s Hoseok?”

“I didn’t, but now I do~!”

You wanted to smack your damn forehead. The two of you kept bickering, but mostly her making fun of your crush for Hoseok.

Wait.

No, it’s definitely not a crush. He’s just a good looking guy who has a heart of gold. You were too busy trying to convince yourself that you don’t like Hoseok to the point where you didn’t notice him walking towards you two. F/N had to smack you out of your thoughts and you were ready to smack her back until you finally noticed him. You immediately put your fist down and smiled at him.

“Y/N! I was waiting for you,” he beamed.

“He was fucking waiting for you,” F/N whispered in your ear; which resulted in your hand colliding with her arm.

“Oh? What for?” You asked, genuinely confused.

“I thought we should walk home together. It would be nice to have someone to talk to,” he offered.

“Take her, please,” F/N pushed you towards him. “I love you, text me when you get home.”

With that, she ran away at the speed of light. Curse her and her running skills. You looked at him while he looked right back at you. How did you not notice his deep brown eyes or his jawline that could slice an iron bar? Okay, exaggerating, but it really seems like it’s possible. Especially for him. Don’t you just hate when friends point out something that you’ve been missing this whole time?

“Ready when you are,” he spoke up.

You nodded and led the way.

“You should come over for dinner later,” he suggested.

Both of you were standing by your front door. His suggestion nearly threw you off, but you definitely weren’t against the idea because you’d be stupid for rejecting free food. Specifically, Korean food.

“Maybe! I gotta ask my mom first,” you answered back.

You swore you saw his smile faltered for a second, but you decided to brush it off and not question it. He watched as you unlocked the door to your house. You couldn’t help but feel nervous. Your heart was beating fast and you didn’t know why. You finally managed to get the door open, so you turned towards him and waved before heading inside.

“W-Wait!”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s exchange numbers, so um, you can text me if you decide to join us.”

You blinked once, then you blink twice because you had to process what he just told you. He wanted your number and you weren’t sure about how to handle that. If you get his number, then you can text him anytime you want. Unless he only texts for dinner purposes only. Once again, you tried not to think too much about it. It’s not like you were excited or anything. It’s just a number.

“Yeah, sure,” you said cooly, trying to hide your excitement.

He handed you his phone and you did the same. You both typed in your phone numbers and gave back the devices. You would hug him to bid him goodbye, but after your best friend pointed out how handsome he was, you hesitated. Your heart was doing flips in your chest, but you’re sure it’s not because you have a crush on him. It’s only because he’s a good looking man. Right?

“Make sure to text me,” he spoke up as he pulled you into a hug.

“Y-Yeah, of course.”

He pulled away and headed back to his house. You finally stepped inside your house and ran to your room. Tossing your backpack aside, you sat at your desk and contemplated whether you should join the Jung’s for dinner or not. The sunlight was blinding your eye, so you got up to shut the blinds. Just as you were about to do so, you saw a figure through the other window.

You expected to see the older male on the other side, but you actually saw Hoseok. Not that you had in issue with that. You thought of waving at Hoseok, but that would be creepy because it would look like you were watching him this whole time. Technically, you’re doing that right now. Just as you were about to shut the blinds, you swore you only blinked for a second and his shirt disappeared from his body.

Oh my- fuck.

Your mouth hung open at the sight. The man got a body. He’s so toned that you could just cry. It was pretty clear that God was biased and Hoseok was his favorite, so he gave him the good shit. You weren’t complaining though because you’re satisfied with being his friend.

But do you truly just want to be friends?

The sound of your phone vibrating snapped you out of your thoughts. You picked up the device to check who it was, but it was an unknown number. That piqued your curiosity. Unlocking your phone, you immediately hit the text app and opened the message.

(1) New message

Sunshine

Hello

You

Did you put yourself as Sunshine?

Sunshine

Yes…

But will you be joining us for dinner?

You

Will the moon and planets be there??

Sunshine

They’re busy

You’re invited to eat with the Jung family

(:

You

I accept, Sunshine

Sunshine

:D

You squealed when he sent that smiley face. That’s so fucking cute. Hoseok’s bright smile was the only thing you could imagine now. You realized you didn’t even ask your mom, but you knew she’d understand. When it came to good looking men, she’s the best wing women out there. In reality, she was sick and tired of your single ass life. What a supportive woman.

Without thought, you grabbed the nearest shirt and changed out of your current one. No one cares about the bottoms, so you just kept on the same shorts that you wore to school earlier. You left the room to inform your mom about your plans. Closing the blinds completely slipped your mind.

You’ve been standing in front of the door for a solid ten minutes now. You didn’t really understand why you became nervous all of a sudden. Literally, a couple of days ago you were fine and comfortable with the family, yet here you are at their doorstep, refusing to push the doorbell. The parents were friendly. The atmosphere was great. They were great. You’re just overthinking. It couldn’t be Hoseok making you feel this way because you’ve only known him for a while. It’s not like you saw him shirtless or anything.

You counted to five and forced yourself to push the button. The sound of the bell echoed through your ears. You waited a couple of seconds and the door flew open, revealing a disheveled Hoseok. Since when did messy hair and heavy breathing look so good on a man?

“Hello, please come in.”

You thanked him and let yourself in. The house was more organized and lively compared to scattered boxes and unbuilt furniture. He led you to the dining room and you saw his parents together in the kitchen chatting.

“Finally! It’s so nice to see you again,” Mrs. Jung beamed.

“Hope you’ve been well,” Mr. Jung nodded.

“Thank you for inviting me,” you smiled.

The four of you gathered in the dining room and sat. Each of them talked about their day. You were fond of the close bond the family shared. Not saying you don’t share that with your family, but it’s nice to see families go through the same thing.

“What do you think of Hoseok, Y/N?” his mother asked.

You nearly choked on your food and ended up having a coughing fit. That question nearly killed you.

“O-Oh, uh, your son is great,” you finally spoke. “Quite the gentleman.”

“Mom, what the he-”

“Barbara’s daughter is single,” she interrupted. “You can thank me later.”

You felt your stomach churn. You could even say that you felt sick.

“I think you two would be a cute couple,” she finished. “Y/N is too good for you anyways.”

This time you nearly fell off your chair. You appreciate the compliment, but never in your life did you think she would ever say that. If anything, you thought Hoseok was too good for you.

“I wouldn’t say that,” you spoke.

“Oh stop, it true. It’s rare to find a girl who helps a family moving in.”

“Well―”

“And you showed Hoseok around the school,” Junsu mentioned.

Wait. If they knew about that, then that means Hoseok talks about you to his parents. You felt some pride swell up in your chest, but he was probably just being nice. Remember, you totally don’t have a crush on your neighbor. Man, your life is a literal movie.

“I think your son is great in his own ways.”

Now all eyes were on you. You felt your face heat up, but you just had to get that off your chest. It wasn’t a lie, you really did think he’s an amazing guy, despite only knowing him for a short period. Thankfully, you weren’t the only one who was red. Hoseok was a tomato.

“You guys shou―”

“And I think Y/N wants to go home! Isn’t that right?” Hoseok explained as he jumped from his seat.

“Y-Yeah, it’s getting late,” you said as you got up from your seat.

You quickly placed your dirty dish into the sink and hugged his parents goodbye before rushing out of the dining room. What the fuck is going on? What the hell just happened?

Once the two of you were alone by the front door, you let out a nervous laugh.

“I’m so sorry about that,” he apologized.

“It’s not a problem. Honestly, my mom is always trying to set me up too.”

“I wouldn’t mind if it was you,” he mumbled.

You didn’t quite catch that, but he’s been through enough for the day. He opened the door for you and you both stepped outside. The stars were out and the moon was a lot brighter today. You were so immersed with the sight. He looked over at you and saw the eyes reflect in your eyes.

Snap.

Ever since your dinner with The Jung’s, you became a lot closer to Hoseok. He would walk with you to and from school, joined you for lunch with your best friend and Yoongi, and he would even come in for dinner. To say that your mom loved him was an understatement. When he wasn’t around, she would call him son-in-law.

You learned many things about the male. He’s a talented artist in many places. Photography, dance, drawing, and more. You were envious of his talent. The little things he did for you would bring a smile to your face. He would send you a good morning text or give you a hug whenever you two depart ways.

Remember how you said you wouldn’t catch feelings?

Too fucking late.

You were in too deep and it was starting to put you in an emotional rollercoaster. Having crushes are fun, but tiring. You have something to look forward to, but when they don’t do something you expect, you can’t help but feel a little sad. Although your friendship with Hoseok was blooming, so was his popularity.

Ever since he won his first dance competition―which he gave you backstage passes―his name spread like wildfire. Nearly every single person knew the name Jung Hoseok. You had to fight off a lot of girls just to be able to meet with him after your classes.

There was a day where you felt sad because you were thinking about Hoseok leaving you for new people. He noticed your saddened mood, so he pulled you off to the side and looked you in the eyes.

No matter who I’m with or where I am, you’ll always be the first person I think of

Ever since he said those words to you, he couldn’t stay off your mind. At this point, it was driving you crazy. Your heart was hurting for Hoseok and you chose to suffer through it.

“Dude, you look lovesick,” F/N blurted out.

You were literally just minding your own business.

“Thanks.”

“I’m gonna call Hos-”

“Don’t you dare,” you threatened; which earned a sigh from your best friend.

“You look miserable,” Yoongi spoke.

The two of you didn’t notice him coming until he sat down next to F/N and said those words. She squealed in excitement and clung onto his arms while resting her head on his shoulder.

“Yeah, not helping, fucking love birds,” you muttered.

“Then do something about it instead of moping around.”

You were about to fight Yoongi, but someone sat next to you; which startled you a bit.

“Do something about what?” Hoseok questioned.

“N-Nothing,” you breathed. “Ah look at the time! Gotta go!”

You got up from your seat and left the area. You couldn’t be around Hoseok because your feelings were becoming unbearable. Just being near him was torture. You wish you could kiss his soft lips and be encased by his strong arms, but sadly, this is reality and you needed to get out of your fantasy land.  

(1) New message

Sunshine

Did you go home without me??

):

You

I wasn’t feeling well, sorry.

Sunshine

Feel better (:

You

Thanks.

It was only four o’clock and you didn’t know what to do. Usually, you were still with Hoseok around this time and it felt odd that you were home early. Even your mom questioned why you were back already, but you only grunted in response before shutting the door of your room. You decided to stare at the ceiling until you drifted off into sleep.

You woke up. You look out your window and saw how dark it was outside. Sadly, you didn’t have any notifications on your phone, specifically none from Hoseok, but you didn’t blame him. You did respond to him monotonously and straight out sounded uninterested. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him to text you.

Despite taking a nap, you still felt tired. Maybe it was your emotions weighing you down. Honestly, you didn’t really have the motivation for anything; which sucked ass. You couldn’t help but feel like Hoseok deserved an explanation for your recent actions. Could you even bring yourself to send him a text?

Frustrated, you got up from your comfy bed and went into the kitchen to drink some water. You couldn’t help but wonder what Hoseok was up to right now.

Now's not the time to think about him, Y/N.

You let out a sigh and wished that your feelings would fade. You could literally have a normal and happy friendship with him, but your heart says otherwise. Self-blame won’t get you anywhere though. Maybe if you just outright tell him, you could get over this stupid phase. You prepared yourself for the worse.

So, here you are, sitting on your bed at nine 9:34 PM, conjuring up ideas of how to approach the situation.

(1) New message

You

Hey, look out your window real quick

Sunshine

?

Your heart was beating uncontrollably as you held up the sign that said: I like you a lot. You hid your face behind the white cardboard, desperately trying to hide your embarrassment. A bunch of scenarios played through your head, but you only focused on a specific one: rejection. At one point you felt like you couldn’t breathe because all these emotions were overwhelming, but it is what it is. On the bright side, you got something off your chest. It won’t be eating you up as bad anymore.

You looked passed your board to see if he was still looking at you, but he wasn’t standing by his window anymore. You placed the board on your desk and jogged back to your window. To get a better glimpse, you pulled up the blinds and slid your window open. You poked your head out. Much to your disappointment, he wasn’t there at all. In fact, it made you a little angry. It felt like he ignored you.

You were about to shut your window until something grabbed your hand. Fight mode kicked in real fast, so you readied your fist.

“W-wait!” the person panicked. “I-it’s me, Hoseok!”

You lowered your fist down but yanked your hand away from his. You couldn’t risk falling any deeper than you are right now. Hoseok saddened a little at your action, but he wanted to get straight to the point.

“If you’re here to reject me, I would’ve been fine with a text,” you mumbled. “I appreciate that you came all this way to-”

“That’s not why I’m here,” he interrupted. “C-Can I come in?”

You looked at him with conflict. Is he trying to rub salt on the wound? You moved aside to let him climb through your window. Your arms were crossed above your chest because you were on guard. You refuse to let your heart take any more hits. He stood by your window, fiddling with his fingers as if he was struggling to find the right words. Silence filled the room.

“Well?” You asked, breaking the tension.

He looked at you straight in the eye and stood up straight.

“W-Well, I don’t really know how to say this…”

“As I said if it’s re-”

“No! P-Please, give me a moment.”

You saw how desperate he seemed, so you walked over to your bed and patted the space next to you. You felt bad for being cold, so you want to try to help him feel as comfortable as possible. He hesitated but ended up plopping beside you with his whole body facing you. You waited until he was ready. Sometimes you forget that confessions can be troubling for both parties.

“When I first met you, you offered to help my family,” he spoke up. “You didn’t know who we were, yet you still offered.”

Honestly, you didn’t know where he was trying to go with this, but you didn’t interrupt him. You listened intently.

“To be honest, I was shocked by your kindness. You also helped me at school, let me join your friend group, and kept me company whenever we went home.”

“Oh, well, I guess I’m just a nice person.”

“No, you’re more than that,” he butted in. “You think about others without a second thought. At one point, I admired you.”

Now you were blushing. Your mouth was agape because you didn’t think he viewed you in the light. Either way, you didn’t want hopes to shoot through the roof, so you kept your expectations low.

“And well…” he paused; which left you on edge. “The admiration turned into something more.”

“Damn, I knew it,” you sighed.

“Y-You do?”

“Yeah, you want to be best friends. Is this what it’s like to be friend-zoned?”

“No!”

He was getting frustrated and you were flat out confused. You thought you pieced

everything together. Okay, no more jumping to conclusions. You kept your mouth shut and waited for him to formulate his words.

“I admire you,” he continued. “You make me want to be a better person for you.”

Thump.

“I-I wanted to be there for you and when you were sad that one time, you said you were scared I would leave you, something broke inside of me. I wanted to protect you.”

Thump.

“This whole time, I thought was fine with just being your friend, but I was wrong. I’m really selfish.”

Thump. Thump.

“Eventually, I found myself wanting more. I don’t want to be your friend.”

“Wha-”

“I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

“No fucking way, you lyin’,” you were in complete disbelief.

This all sounds too good to be true.

“I’m being serious,” he said sternly.

You didn’t know how to respond. You prepared yourself for rejection, but instead, you get the complete opposite. He never broke eye contact with you, but you could see that he was getting nervous again. You weren’t responding and he began to worry.

“I know you feel the same way, Y/N,” he whispered, smiling.

Now you’re getting flustered. You can’t run away in your own house. Hoseok felt confident. You both shared the same feelings and nothing can stop you two now. Nothing could go wrong at this point.

“Yeah, so?” you huffed. “You want a kiss as a reward or something?”

“Yeah, actually,” he smirked.

Curse you and your fucking mouth. Putting you in places that you don’t want to be in. Well, you don’t mind kissing him though. It’s not like you’ve always wanted to anyways. He turned his body towards you, so you scooted closer to him and made eye contact with him before looking down at his lips. Since when were they so…pink?

“I’m waiting.”

You rolled your eyes at his comment, but it helped get rid of some of that nervous feeling that welled up in your stomach. Thankfully, his eyes were closed. It would’ve been so awkward if they were staring right at you. He was bouncing in his spot because you could feel the bed shake a bit. You didn’t want to keep the male waiting, so you inched closer and closer. His looks were a bit intimidating up close.

“You can’t back out now,” you warned.

“I wasn’t planning to,” he answered back.

Here goes nothing.

You cupped his face and stared right at his lips. You found it cute that he leaned into your hand a little. He wanted to cherish you as much as you wanted to cherish him. Despite all the stalling you’ve been doing, he was enjoying every single second. All that mattered to him was that you’re there. This isn’t a dream, but it’s reality.

Bringing your face closer to his, you felt his breath hit your lips. He could feel your presence close to his own; which caused his heart rate to increase dramatically. If only you knew how much you meant to him and how badly he’s always wanted for this moment to happen. You both drove each other crazy.

The softness of his lips touched your own. At first, you held your breath in for a second, but you manage to relax into it. What you thought would be a simple peck, turned into open-mouth kisses. As the kisses became more intense, you moved your hands from his face to the back of his neck. He wanted you to be as close as possible, so he placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer. The kisses you two shared proved how desperately both of you wanted this by the way you held each other.

Just as the two of you were about to pull away from each other, he bit the bottom of your lip and sucked it lightly. He looked at you with lust in his eyes. It was almost scary. But in a sexy way. You could almost feel how much he wanted you, but you wanted to settle down everything between the two of you.

“So…” you trailed off. “What are we now then?”

“Let me ask you out properly before we become official.”

“It doesn’t have to be special.”

“I want it to memorable.”

You felt the heat rise up in your cheeks. Hoseok was determined to make you feel special and he was willing to do as much as he can to prove how much you mean to him. No one has ever bothered to put that much effort into you, let alone being unofficial. Your body moved on its own, and you found yourself embracing him in your arms.  

The weather was sunny, you felt great, and everything was real. Yesterday wasn’t a dream and you realized that the moment you pinched yourself after waking up. Hoseok also sent you a good morning text with hearts surrounding the message. For once, you were having a good morning. The smell of breakfast made your day even better considering how you napped through dinner last night. The table was laid with piles of food and your mouth was watering.

“What’s with the smile on your face?” Your mom asked. “It’s unusual.”

“Don’t wof-ry abou- et,” you struggled to say with waffles stuffed in your mouth.  

“It has to do with Hoseok, huh?” she was eyeing you now.

“Look at the time! Gotta get to class, bye!”

Never have you ran so fast out of your house. The news between you and Hoseok needed to wait because technically, you two aren’t official. Yet. The thought about you two being together, gave you butterflies in your stomach. Right as you locked the front door of your house, Hoseok was already standing in front of your house with coffee in both his hands. He was smiling right at you and you felt the world get brighter.

“Good morning, Y/N,” he beamed. “I got you a little gift.”

“O-Oh! Thank you,” you smiled as you happily took the beverage from his hand.

Walking to school was enjoyable with Hoseok holding your hand and coffee in the other hand. As soon as you got to school, people kept staring, but you were unbothered because all that mattered was that you had him. He was smiling through the stares, but his eyes were mostly on you.

He walked you to your first class and his lips touched your cheek. You waved to him as he headed to his own class. As you sat in your seat, you were ambushed by your best friend once again.

“Bitch! I saw that!” she exclaimed while pointing her index finger at you. She didn’t even bother to sit at her desk. Instead, she stood right in front of you, waiting for an explanation.

“Saw what?”

“Ah! Don’t play dumb,” she countered. “Give me the deets.”

As much as you love your best friend, she can be loud at times because now a majority of the class was looking at you two. You gestured her to lean in closer, so she did. Instead of telling her, you grabbed her ear and told her that you’ll tell her after class. Once you let go, she eyed you while taking her seat next to you. You noticed how her leg was shaking; which you knew meant she was excited.

“So you’re telling me that you pulled a Taylor Swift and it worked?” F/N asked bewilderedly.

You laughed at your best friend's reaction.

“That’s all I gotta say.”

“Honestly, say no more,” she nodded approvingly.  

Dinner was amazing and you still couldn’t believe that Hoseok set it up all by himself, despite your mom wanting to help. The smile on your face wouldn’t go away. You wish you could live this moment forever, but you were grateful that you got to experience it. Hoseok felt accomplished the moment your eyes lit up. He knew that he wanted to make you happy from this moment on.

He led you to your room, ready to watch something on youtube. He already brought extra clothes for himself to get comfortable in. Without a warning, he took off his shirt and you could see the defined lines of his abs. You didn’t realize you were staring until he waved his hand in front of you. Embarrassed, you grabbed a t-shirt, some pajama shorts, and ran to the bathroom without making any eye contact with him. The last thing you heard was him chuckling.

After regaining your posture and successfully changing into comfy clothes, you managed to exit the bathroom with ease. Hoseok was already settled in your bed with his back against the bed frame with his attention on his phone. Who could have known a guy could look so good in a plain white tee and sweats. You hopped on your bed and snuggled into your blankets before taking your laptop and putting on some music. You tried to stay cool despite there being a hot man next to you on your bed. It was pretty exciting.

“I wanna show you a video,” Hoseok spoke up.

You looked up from your phone and leaned closer to him. Instead of playing the video, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled your closer. The heat traveled up to your cheeks and you looked up at him.

“Sorry, it was the only way I could pull you closer to me,” he smiled.

Well fuck.

As he unlocked his phone, you noticed his wallpaper. The person on his phone looked familiar and he saw you staring at his screen.

“When did you take this?” You asked.

“Remembered the first time you came over for dinner? You were looking at the stars and I couldn’t help myself. I had to capture the moment where heaven couldn’t match your beauty.”

He finally played a video of an idol group dancing, but your thoughts were racing through your head. You tried to calm your heart by taking a deep breath; instead, you got a whiff of his cologne. Oh, boy did that shit smell amazing. Without realizing it, your face was practically buried in his chest.

“It’s Kalvin Clein,” he spoke up as he soothingly rubbed your back.

“You can’t call me out like that,” you mumbled.

“As your boyfriend, yeah I can,” he chuckled.

There were butterflies in your stomach. He can’t just say that term so casually. Your heart and soul wasn’t ready for that. You ended up snuggling closer to him and placing your legs on top of his. Now you could see the screen of his phone more clearly, but this time, someone else was having trouble focusing on the video. His body stiffened, but you paid no attention to the subtle action. Hoseok never showed any interest in certain things. Especially the explicit ones. Then again, you both never tried anything.

We’ve never even had sex.

“W-We can if you want.”

“Did I say that out―oh my god,” you wheezed.

You’re totally not embarrassed at all. Blame your hormones. Speaking your mind has been putting you in deep shit.

“I-I mean we can, but I understand if you do-”

“I do, I really do…” he paused. “I was just going at your pace.”

This man is so fucking considerate that it hurts your soul, but that’s not the only thing that’s hurting. Your need for him is more painful.

“That’s hot.”

“What?”

“What?”

“Fuck it.”

You grabbed his phone out of his hand and gently put it on the nightstand. As much as you love being in his arms, you sat up and straddled him. Honestly, you had nothing to lose at this point. You two were officially already and it’s too late to back out now.

He looked at you with wide eyes, still comprehending what just happened. You didn’t wait for him to make a move, so you began to grind down on his cock. His eyes rolled back as he hissed through his teeth. You felt his hands wrap around your hips eagerly, encouraging you to slowly pace yourself back and forth. They gripped tighter as you continued to rub your womanhood onto his member. You could tell that he was holding back his moans in the back of his throat by the way his breathing was unsteady.

“Let me hear you,” Y/N whispered.

You dipped your face into the crane of his neck and kissed him sweetly.

Hoseok looked at the way you rode him, causing his head to throw back with excitement. Finally, he let himself go and let out his stifled moans.

“Keep going,” he sighed, eyes still closed from the undeniable pleasure.

With his size growing in his gray sweatpants, your center became damper alongside him. You two were in sync as the sounds escaped both of your mouths; which then led your hands to trail down his torso, taking the hem of his white t-shirt and tugging it up. Instinctively, Hoseok took your sign and took off his top to toss it onto the floor. You let out a hum of amusement. Before, you had only gotten a chance to see it, but now you had your hands roaming all over his toned body.

“Your turn,” he spoke, mimicking your last action.

You smirked, eyeing the way his fingers fiddled with the bottom of your shirt. But just as you were about to take initiative, he began peeling your own piece of clothing and tossed to the floor as well. You could hear him swearing to himself. Letting out a soft moan, you took your index finger to drag his eyes to yours. He showcased a lovely; yet, lazy smile. With his hair nearly covering his eyes though, you pouted. You wanted to see his gaze meet yours, and that’s exactly what you did. Your fingers pushed his long bangs back, only urging you to kiss him once again.

“You’re so beautiful,” Hoseok murmured against your lips.

All you could do was smile in return. You were flattered above anyone else at that moment. Your riding had increased, but his strong hands stopped you for a few seconds. He didn’t have to say much as that point, but you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. Knowing he heard you, he also chuckled. All you could think was, goddamn.

It only took a second for Hoseok to flip both of you over. Now that he was on top, he placed a chaste kiss on your lips, then trailing a handful of wet kisses down your neck, between your breasts, and stopping just above the waistband of your shorts. Your moans were constant; even though you had some moments when you wanted to stop yourself from becoming so vulnerable. His doe-like eyes peered up at you, catching each other’s attention while his lips were still pressed against your sensitive skin.

You could feel the corners of his lips lifting up with a smile. He was satisfied with his doing, and you wanted to let him know he was doing everything right. When you felt the beds of his fingertips curling around the elastic, you threw your head back in preparation for what was about to come. When you could feel the cold air of the room hitting the rest of your bare body, you inhaled sharply. Your feet gradually slide up towards yourself naturally, knowing you had to brace yourself. As soon as Hoseok’s hot breath hit your wet center, you felt the shivers running throughout your entire body. His warm hands wrapped themselves around your thighs.

“Please,” you whined, squirming under his control.

“So eager for my tongue baby girl,” he mumbled.

Just as you were about to respond back, you could feel the wetness of his own mouth touch your clit, causing your head to dig back into the pillow. You swore under your breath and bucked your hips towards him. Trying not to lose yourself, your hand reached down for his and gripped it tightly. As his tongue ran up and down between your folds, your toes began to curl. The wears were unstoppable and clearly neither way he. Even when you can't stop your own hips from moving his mouth didn’t pull away at any second. You could feel the intense bubble in your stomach almost bursting.

“Hoseok,” you moaned.

There was nothing like the way you said the name that turned him on even more. Just as he thought he was going to spare you, he took away one of his hands. You gulped. When you felt his two digits pushing into your tight pussy, you bit the bottom of your lips as hard as you could in order not to make any loud noises. As much as you wanted to scream at the top of your lungs with the amount of pleasure he provided you, there were still boundaries. You had to keep in mind that you were still in your room and a house that was shared with more than one person. But when Hoseok started pumping his fingers in and out of you, he was making it too difficult for you. By the way, you seemed to struggle beneath him, he moaned against your clit. The vibrations sent chills down your spine from the additional euphoric feeling.

“I’m so close,” Y/N whispered with desperation. “Keep going.”

Of course, Hoseok would follow your orders. If he had this reaction out of you, he didn’t want it to stop. It was a reward to already have you to call his very own, but having you finish due to his ability would be a great addition. Just then, he thought to push his index and middle finger deeper inside of you, curling the tips of them every time he entered you. Now that the butterflies were set free in your stomach, your hands reached for the top of his head, not wanting this moment to end.

“I-I’m c-coming,” you stuttered, feeling your pussy clenching around his fingers.

After your release of sweet pleasure, you were panting heavily. You felt like you ran a whole marathon. His fingers and tongue felt amazing, yet you felt incomplete. You wanted his cock badly. No, scratch that, you needed his cock. He did so much for you and you wanted to repay him. It took you a lot of effort to sit up. You motioned him to lie down on his back and he followed your order.

Once he settled on his back, you didn’t hesitate to smash your lips together. Your tongues battled for dominance, but you wanted to get straight to pleasuring your man. As much as you love his mouth on yours, you pulled away and grabbed his wrist. His fingers were still coated with your juices, but you didn’t care. Without thought, you brought your mouth to his fingers. You began running your tongue in between the two digits while eyeing him seductively. Eventually, you sucked on his fingers and rolled your eyes back to give him a little show.

“Holy shit,” he breathed.

You smiled at his comment and gave him a quick peck before lowering your head towards his aching bulge. Your hands rubbed his clothed cock and you could hear his breath hitch. Then you traced your fingers around the waistband of both his sweatpants and boxers, quickly pulling them down. His dick sprung up, hitting his stomach. You wrapped your hand his thickness and slowly pumped his girth. He let out a moan as you began to pick up the pace. You finally brought your lips to the tip of his cock. You guided your tongue around him, allowing you to coat his member. Finally, you took his entire size into your mouth and his hands immediately tugged on your locks.

You bobbed your head back and forth at a steady pace. Looking up, you saw him biting down on his lower lip. You wanted to hear him. You wanted him to say your name. Without warning, you brought his cock to the back of your throat.

“Fuck, Y/N.”

Just hearing him say that encouraged you to go faster. You grabbed his hips to steady your pace. Suddenly, you felt a harsh tug on your hair, causing you to pull away from him. You looked at him with confusion.

“Keep that up and I would’ve came in your mouth…” he paused. “But I want to come inside you.”

You felt your pussy moisten at his words. This man was driving you crazy.

“I’m on birth control.”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” he smirked.

He grabbed your arm and pulled you down on your back. Before you knew it, he was back on top of you. Refusing you to do any more work.

“You did enough for me, baby,” he spoke as he sucked on your neck.

His easily slipped a finger inside you, causing you to mewl.

“And you’re already so fucking wet for me.”

He pulled his finger out and positioned himself in between your legs. The tip of his cock was right at your entrance, but he wanted to tease you a bit. You watched as he grabbed his hard length and slowly rubbed it against your folds. You could hear the wetness of your pussy as he would insert the tip and take it out. It was fucking torture.

“Hoseok, baby, please.”

“Please what?”

“Your cock, i-inside me…” you stuttered, “Please!”

You begging for him was music to his ears. He hummed in satisfaction. Finally, he inserted his whole member inside you and it was pure bliss. He placed one of your legs on his shoulder, allowing him to go deeper, causing you to cover your mouth to muffle your screams. He brought his fingers to your clit and rubbed it in a circular motion. You arched your back, taking in all the pleasure he’s giving you. Another bubble was forming at the pit of your stomach and you didn’t know how much longer you could take it. Hoseok could tell you were on the verge of coming, so he picked up the pace. He was going harder while rubbing your clit at the same time as you were closing in on another orgasm. He felt you clench around him, but that didn’t slow down his rhythm.

“Oh fuck!”

You finally reached your limit and came all over his still hardened cock.

“Hands and knees. Now,” he demanded.

He wasn’t going to let you recover. He positioned himself perfectly at your entrance and slammed himself in you, nearly knocking you off your hands. His balls kept hitting your pussy and you knew he wasn’t holding back. As he continued to thrust himself in you, you felt a hard smack on your ass. You moaned at his gesture, earning a hard pull on your hair. Your neck was bending back as he brought his lips to your ear. His teeth were softly gnawing on the shell of your ear. You were enjoying this too much, clearly, he was too.

“Right there, oh shit,” you moaned.

He placed his hands on your hips and pulled you into him. His pace fastened while your moans filled the room. At this point, you knew that both of you could be heard, but you had no fucks left to give. The only thing you could focus on was how close you two were and the immense amounts of pleasure you’ve both given and received. You could tell that you were getting weaker when your head began to slowly fall into the pillow, but Hoseok wasn’t going to have that. Seeing the way he had you, it was the perfect time to give you no choice. When he had one hand secure on your hip, the other reach around to cup your throat. He had no idea how much you enjoyed the retrain, but when he took a quick glance at your eyes, he knew. Your eyes rolled back, hair messy and mouth open wide, he had you locked. Just how he inched you back, your back was nearly touching his torso. Your posture was in that exact position where you could feel every inch of him inside of you. Again, you could feel yourself coming undone once more. He was just too immersed in his actions that his pace was steady and focused. The slapping of his hips against your ass, both of your heavy breaths intertwining with one another, and the sweat dripping down both of your bodies had a great effect on the great event.

“Fuck- I’m gonna-” he uttered.

“Come inside of me babe,” she interrupted.

His breathing suddenly became unsteady and his thrusts also started to feel messy and slow. With every last pumped inside of you, he paused for a second. With one last hard push, he let out a grunt and satisfied sigh.

“Fuck,” he sighed in relief.

As the two of you collected yourselves, your bodies plopped on the bed beside each other. Even though your breaths were still loud and heavy, you both managed to shoot each other a smile. You helped each other clean up and got ready for bed. You both exchanged a couple of words to each other before drifting off into a deep slumber.

You woke up to a peaceful sleeping Hoseok. His breath was steady with one arm was slung over your waist. In the end, you ended up being with the boy next door. You felt him move a bit before he finally opened his eyes. He looked at you and warmly grinned.

“Hey there, neighbor.”

[theabominableblogger]

Rewatching “Fright Night” (the 1985 version)

No I ain’t watching the remake with David Tennant.  ‘Cause I said so.

*does Borat impression while loading the movie on Amazon Prime*

“Sit here beside me on the veranda.”  Is this the... TV show scene?  The show with Roddy McDowall?

SCARE CHOOORD!

“So... luminescent.”  *laughs*

Those were some... horrible kissing noises

I like the out of context implication that as soon as the woman asks the dude to lay on her chest, Peter Vincent’s like “NONE IN THIS HOUSE!”

“IF SHE BREATHES...”

What idiot puts their smelly ass soccer cleats on their headboard?

“We’ve been going together almost a year, and all I ever hear is ‘Charley, stop it.’“  Well then maybe that’s a you problem

Also what the hell is that map thing next to Amy?

“Let’s get into bed.”  *bug eyes*

Amy, that is not the look of someone who is ready to have sex.

“It says right here that the divorce rate is 76% higher among couples who don’t argue before marriage.”  Shut up, Mom.

“Thank you [Amy] for helping Charley with his homework.”  ...I was gonna make a sex joke here but nah.

Oh I hate Charley’s friend in his movie.

Charley’s car, while super nice, looks like a sunburnt cow

“My luck.  He’s [the neighbor] probably gay.”  AAAAAHHH THEY EVEN SAID IT!

I really Charley to slap Teach [Ed] at some point but I know it’s never gonna happen.

For a moment, I thought that the carpenter dude partner was gonna be like Kenny from “The War at Home” but nah.  He probably just uses his teeth a lot.

*silently jamming to the background synth music*

*Charley spots a woman removes her bra in the window*  What was this rated again?

AN:  It’s rated R

*yells when Jerry looks over to see Charley through the window*

*Shot of Jerry’s hand pulling down the window blind*  That... is a lady hand.

AN:  They were actually extensions that Chris wore and he helped apply them himself so that he could just rip them off after a day of shooting

*Charley’s mom ruins Charley’s cover*  DAMN IT MOM

This movie is basically “Who Cried Wolf” but with vampires?

“I’m his roommate Billy Cole.”  Can you believe just that the fact that this movie was made in the mid 80s when the AIDS crisis in the US was getting ready to happen and director Tom Holland and the screenwriter went “YES they’re gonna be GAY and THAT’S FINAL”

“You actually saw the body, Charley?”  Uh doesn’t that tone raise any suspicion from the detective STANDING NEXT TO HIM?

*snorts in hilarity when Billy jokingly does the sign of the cross*

Charley, I would not trust anything Teach tries to tell you.

AND OF COURSE CHARLEY’S MOM INVITED JERRY OVER

OMINOUS SYNTH CHORD

My God, Chris Sarandon...

What’s with the celery?

Charley’s mom is the most oblivious character in this whole movie, I swear

FISH EYE LENS

I forget, do we ever see Jerry in vampire bat form or do we just see him as Chris Sarandon with fangs the entire movie?

Why yes, Charley, use your tiny crucifix.

Doesn’t the whole “enter with permission” count with bedrooms too or just the house in general?  If it counted with bedrooms, couldn’t Charley just put up a sign on his door that said “NO ADMISSION WITHOUT PERMISSION” and that would keep Jerry out?

Jerry is the most casual vampire I’ve seen so far.  Someone would just throw a chair at him and he’ll just No-Sell it like “Listen... I was just saying...”

There’s got to be a logical way to explain this Christmas thing.

We just need a vampire that’s like Catherine O’Hara from “Schitt’s Creek”

I love how Charley’s like 80% out the window and yet he can still reach for an entire mug of pencils

NO WAIT WE SEE HIS [Jerry’s] VAMPIRE FACE NEVERMIND

Valium?!?

Christopher Lee!

THAT FRAMING [of Billy kneeling directly in front of Jerry’s legs] ISN’T OBVIOUS AT ALL TOM HOLLAND

The logic for this movie is something else.  Charley sees someone on TV perform a vampire killing ON A TV SHOW and thinks “YES I’m going to ask him to help me with this vampire situation!” 

This is like asking Drew Carey if he can assist in a vampire hunting

*imitates Peter Vincent shooing Charley away*

*snorts at Teach and Amy walking in on Charley setting holy stuff ALL OVER HIS HOUSE*

Also I absolutely forgot about the weird side plot with Amy being an incarnation of a past love.  What is it with this and Bram Stoker’s Dracula going this route?

Man, Roddy McDowall is just a masterclass in classical acting.  You can tell the different style between him and the other actors.

There’s a bust of Klaus Kinski’s Nosferatu in the glass box!

AN:  *in best Janet from ‘The Good Place’ impression*  Fun fact, Klaus Kinski was actually an asshole

I like the red and black plaid night coat

God, all those clocks going off at once reminds me of the scene in Pinocchio.  That would give me so much anxiety in real life.

WHO TOSSED JERRY THE APPLE?!?

OH AND THEY [Jerry and Billy] WALK OFF TOGETHER OF COURSE

*imitates Peter Vincent saying “Good evening good evening”*

*going through AO3′s Fright Night 1985 tag as Peter explains what he’s doing*  Wow there’s four pages.  I might have to bookmark some of these.

Ohhhh kay, nevermind on half of these.  Not into that.  Nope nope nope.

I forget, is Billy also a vampire?  Or is he like some ghoul?  Werewolf?

...Interspecies romance?

For a fact, I know that if CinemaSins covers this movie, they would award Jerry the “eating an apple because he’s an asshole” sin and I would laugh

Oh he’s [Jerry] gonna go for the hand kiss, isn’t he? 

OH GOD DAMMIT

*has to still register it*

Wait, did Jerry hold the bottle up in front of the fire in case there was actually holy water?  Would heating it up counteract the holy water inside?

WAIT DOESN’T PETER CATCH JERRY’S LACK OF REFLECTION IN THE MIRROR AS THEY LEAVE?

How did they do that?  Did they just... comp Chris Sarandon out or did they have him tuck out of frame but still say his lines?

AN:  Tom Holland originally goofed up the shot I guess but they ran with it

JERRY IS BI HEADCANON CONFIRMED

WAIT HE FOUND THE MIRROR SHARDS

The overhead tracking shot following Ed in the alleyway is actually pretty good.  And the way it slides to a normal shot is great.

Oh they do the creepy Dracula fog!

Wait, this movie came out the same year as Nightmare on Elm Street 2.  Dang.

And that movie also had a weird homoerotic tone to it.

You know what, the way Jerry offers Ed salvation only to attack him was actually pretty solid.  Just good acting from both of them.  I was sold.

WAIT IT’S THE CLUB SCENE!

*Peter presses a cross to Ed’s forehead*  Great prosthetic too, holy crap!

*jams out to the song playing at the club*

Why do Jerry’s dance clothes look like either my pajamas or really lame exercise clothes?

God, it’s [Jerry pacing back and forth watching Amy] like a cat stalking a bird holy crap

NOOOO I DON’T NEED TO WATCH THIS SHE’S LIKE SIXTEEEEENNNN

*jaw drops when Jerry runs his hand up Amy’s leg*  NOOOOOO

Not gonna lie, this song almost sounded like a remix of the Nightmare on Elm Street theme

NOOOOOOOO STOOOOOPPPP CEASE DESIST

Amy’s hair just gets wilder and wilder during this dance sequence

STOOOOOOPPPP

Quick, Charley, start a fight!  Just... punch someone!  Commotion!

*just yells when Jerry steals a kiss from Amy*

*Amy wakes up in a white dress in Jerry’s house*  NOPE

God and he [Jerry] took off his shirt too just *hides face in hands*

*covers mouth with hand in attempt not to say anything*

*Jerry’s dragging finger scrapes off wood on the banister*  Oh that’s just mean

*Jerry drapes his arms over the back of Billy’s shoulders*  HMM

They would be that duo who would pick up a phone and take turns to go “...surprise, Sidney...”

*A wolf walks out of Mrs. Brewster’s room*  WHAAAAATTT?!?

Dang they really just tossed a plushie wolf off the stairs

WAIT the guy that did the VFX for this movie also did “Ghostbusters” if I remember correctly

AN:  Yes

They are just... really dragging out Ed’s death scene

That kinda exasperated look Peter gives the smoking house is great

Wait is Billy a vampire too?  Zombie?  What is he?

I really just want Charley to reach out and just slightly poke dying Billy in the chest so that he crumbles backwards.  That would have been hilarious.

How long is Amy’s hair?

HE [Jerry] DOES TURN INTO A BAT!

Real plot twist would be that the bat bite also starts turning Charley into a vampire so Peter would have to kill three birds with one stone (heal Charley and Amy and kill Jerry)

Boss move:  Peter closing the coffin in front of Jerry

And it ends with the same shot as the opening!

“Oh, you’re so cool, Brewster.”  So is Ed alive?

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Boxing

The beautiful, talented, amazing and wonderful @artsymeeshee​ has been going through a lot lately and I’ve been wanting to do something for her, so (since I can’t draw chibi Stans or think of a good fic that follows that theme XD ) I thought I would write this for her! Seriously, guys, she’s incredible in every way and deserves all the love in the world, so go give it to her!

I hope you like this fic, girl, and that you’re doing okay. - N.S.

~~~~~~~~~~

It all started back when the Pines family first arrived back at the Mystery Shack. Mabel was up in the storage room (It was much fuller than wise, but the attic was used as a bedroom at the moment.) and had dragged Dipper along with her to help find some old photographs. With only two weeks to work on her special birthday present for her grunkles, she needed all the help she could get in making them the perfect gift: a new scrapbook full of old photos of Glass Shard Beach and pictures Mabel had saved on her phone and was going to print of the old sailors out at sea.

Mabel had her hands on a box full of baby photos that she was totally going to use as blackmail. She squealed and then covered her mouth quickly so they wouldn’t get caught when she found a photo of two twin boys sitting in little sailor-suits on their parents’ bed. The one with six-fingers on his tiny fists didn’t look happy, but his brother was laughing and was proud of his new suit. Mabel tucked it into her folder to use for the scrapbook and checked another box. She opened it and was surprised to find news articles for boxing events and pictures of her uncles training. “Wow, Dipper, look.” Mabel said quietly and Dipper sat with her by the box. “Whoa, Stan was really good.” The boy commented as he picked up photographs of a bruised-looking, war-beaten, teenage-version of Stan had a fist up in the air in victory and a trophy in his grasp. Ford was by his side, enjoying stealing Stan’s gimmick of wrapping an arm around his neck and pointing at him as he beamed with pride. “Check out all these first places.” “Wonder where all his trophies…” But then Mabel stopped. There were boxes in this room labeled “trophies”, but all of those were Ford’s from science fairs and spelling bees, because this had originally been his house. Since Stan was kicked out and didn’t exactly have time or space for memorabilia, the trophies were long-gone, probably tossed out by Dipper and Mabel’s great-grandfather. Mabel’s blood boiled and her teeth clenched in a very un-Mabel way. “If I ever see Blendin again, I’m using his time-machine to go back in time and punch that jerk in the face.” She growled. “Yeah,” Dipper sighed and held out some good pictures of when both of the twins were boxing in elementary school. “But hey, these will look great in the new scrapbook.” He pointed out, trying to make his sister forget Filbrick. It worked; Mabel smiled and took some of the pictures. “These are great, thanks!” And she added them to the folder. “They look so cute! And they look like they might be having fun.” Dipper shrugged; to this day Stan still enjoys watching a match and he still gave awesome left and right-hooks. “So, do you need more pictures, or…?” “I think… I dunno, I was hoping to find one of them with Grandpa or Ma Pines. Do you think they’d want that?” Even after the scrapbook had been made and delivered, Mabel still thought back to Stan and Ford’s old boxing days. It was interesting and cool to her, so one afternoon she asked Stan to teach her some moves. She had never seen that old man look so happy. (Except when he announced that he was going to be sailing around the world with Ford.) He took her out to the backyard and taught her how to take a proper stance and how to give good hooks and how to dodge properly. Mabel found she liked the feeling of the gloves and the poses and moves came relatively quickly to her. By the time the sun was setting Stan was laughing and calling her a natural. About a week or so later, Stan left his newspaper on the table to help put out a small fire Ford had started due to an experiment gone bad, and Mabel saw an ad for boxing tryouts. There was a team right outside of Gravity Falls and the whole thing was over by the end of the summer, so Mabel could join if she wanted. When Stan came back and finished his newspaper, he put it in the newspaper bin (used to start campfires or for arts-n’-crafts) and Mabel swiped the article for the date, time, and location. Dipper woke up the next morning and found Mabel’s bed, as usual, empty. But then as Dipper was scrubbing his eyes he heard something weird outside. He looked out the window and stared to find Mabel in pink work-out shorts, a white t-shirt, and her hair up with a scrunchie as she punched a tree with boxing gloves. Dipper slipped on some shoes and his hat and vest and hurried outside. “Mabel, what are you doing?” He asked when he got behind her out in the crisp morning air. “Training for the boxing tryouts.” Mabel said as she worked, punching a tree so hard a branch fell off. Dipper smiled proudly and said, “I wanna help.” And so history repeated itself as Dipper hurried to the library after breakfast and found books on proper diet techniques and he looked up video-tutorials on great workout routines. He rode his bike besides Mabel and used her megaphone to cheer her on as she jogged down the dirt road. He wore a full on pillow-bodysuit so Mabel could punch something that moves and tries to punch back. Dipper even made her protein shakes with raw eggs and other stuff to help her keep her energy and he poured her Mabel Juice down the drain, earning him a raspberry courtesy of his twin. The kids were careful to keep it a secret, Mabel insisting she wanted to surprise Stan and Ford by coming back with a real boxing uniform and a declaration that she made the team. Dipper supported her one million percent and on the day of the tryouts, they hopped on a bus for the gym. Dipper walked with Mabel in her workout-gear, hands in his vest and a proud smile on his face. They walked into the correct room, the one with a big ring and some bleachers, and found Mr. Poolcheck’s cousin, Mr. Boxcoach. The cousins had the same tight-face, sharp jawline, and popping vein, and they were both equally scary, but Mr. Boxcoach’s legs weren’t skinny and perfect for swimming, rather bulky and perfect for boxing, and he had oily brown hair. He wore a blue-jacket over a white t-shirt and he had a whistle around his neck and a clipboard in hand. Boys from neighboring towns were there to try out, too, and more were approaching. Mabel and Dipper walked up to Mr. Boxcoach to properly introduce themselves and before any of them said a word, the scary man asked with his eyes down at his clipboard, “What’s your name, son?” “Oh, no,” Dipper shook his head and patted Mabel’s shoulder. “I’m not here to try out, but my sister is.” “Hi! I’m Mabel.” She said cheerfully, almost bouncing where she stood with excitement. Mr. Boxcoach finally looked at them and snorted. “Yeah, no. I’m not putting a girl on my team.” Mabel’s smile dropped. Dipper saw the devastated look on her face and he had to try extremely hard not to lose his temper. “Why not?” He asked. “Whaddya mean, why not, she’s a girl.” Mr. Boxcoach said like it was obvious and he tucked his clipboard under his arm. “I mean look at her, a butterfly clip in her hair and a bright-pink scrunchie. They’d eat her alive out there.” “So what if she takes good care of her hair and likes pink?” Dipper snapped. “Last I checked, that has nothing to do with how good she is. She’s really tough, just let her try, she’s got a great left-hook!” “Listen, kids, it’s anarchy out there…” “She can handle it!” “... there is no way I’m letting a girl on my team.” Mr. Boxcoach said firmly. “I wouldn’t be caught dead with a girl in my boxing ring.” Dipper narrowed his eyes, seeing red, his whole body shaking with rage. “You won’t even let her try out?” “Nope.” Dipper was ready to yell and make Mr. Boxcoach rue the day he underestimated Mabel Pines, but one glance at her told Dipper that she looked ready to go home, so he put an arm around her shoulders and walked her out the door. “Forget that jerk. Wanna stop by that new candy store in town? I think they have a new safer Smile-Dip.” He offered softly. Mabel shook her head and pulled her hair down, her scrunchie on her wrist. “I’d rather just go home.” “Okay, sure.” Dipper tried to smile comfortingly at her, but she wouldn't meet his eyes and Dipper could tell that she didn’t need smiles right now. ~~~~~~~~~~ Waddles was asleep under the card table while Ford and Stan played poker on the table. Ford slammed his cards down as his brother laughed maliciously and scooted the loot to his side of the table. “You cheated!” “Probably, wanna try to prove it, Wise Guy?” Stan dared. “Oh, you little…” The door opened and closed and the old men smiled to see the kids return, but they were unhinged to find Mabel in unusual attire and hurrying up the stairs with tears in her eyes. The bedroom door slammed shut and Waddles woke up and trotted up the stairs. “What’s wrong with Mabel?” Stan asked. Dipper sighed and collapsed in the armchair. “Mabel wants to be on the boxing team.” Ford and Stan exchanged proud and surprised looks, but they also remembered that their little girl was upset right now. “Did she not make the team?” Ford guessed sympathetically. “She didn’t even get to try out.” “Why not?” Stan pressed on when Dipper fell silent and didn’t look in a hurry to tell more of the story. He gave them both a careful look, like he was debating if it was worth telling them, but he eventually said, “Coach says he wouldn’t be caught dead with a girl in his ring.” “WHAT?!” Stan stood up quickly and looked just as mad as he did back when he discovered that Mable and Gideon were dating last summer. “And you were okay with that?!” “Stanley,” Ford scolded lightly, not enjoying the fact that he was assuming Dipper didn’t do anything about it. “No! I tried, but there was no changing his mind.” Dipper defended and crossed his arms over his chest. Stan marched across the room. Ford stood up and asked, “Where are you going?” “To be mad at somebody new!” “Uh, oh.” Dipper said as Stan angry beyond reason. When Mabel heard Waddles scratching at the door, she forced herself out of bed to let him in. He hopped up on the foot of the bed and let Mabel lie her head on him and cry on his soft pink body. She hugged him and cried her heart out, disappointed and feeling stupid for thinking she even had a shot at boxing like her hero. A soft knock came at the door and Mabel looked up to find Stan at the door. She quickly wiped her tears away and her face dry; she didn’t want him to see her cry and think she wasn’t tough anymore. “Hey, everything okay, pumpkin?” Mabel smiled weakly and nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay…” “C’mon, Mabel, you can’t lie to an old conman.” Stan said and sat by the head of her bed. “Plus Dipper told me what happened.” He added, unable to take all the credit on him just being that awesome and smart. Mabel’s eyes filled with tears and she shut her eyes to try to hide it. Stan wrapped an arm around her shoulders and rubbed. “Snitch.” Mabel mumbled, making Stan snort. “I wanted to surprise you, make you proud.” “Whoa, hey,” Stan halted. “First off, I’ll always be proud of you. Always. You’re my little fight, whether you’re on some stupid team or not. That’s sweet that you wanted to surprise me and rub it in my face that you’re way better at boxing than me, but you don’t have to hide anything from me.” Mabel hiccuped a laugh over his little joke and she wiped her tears on her arm, feeling much better. “Thanks, Grunkle Stan.” “No problem, sweetie.” He looked her dead in the eye and asked, “Do you really wanna box?” Mabel wasn’t sure if he was asking because he wanted to make sure she didn’t want to box only to make him proud, or he was about to do something stupid. Either way, she wanted to be honest. She nodded and gave that Pines-gleam in her eye, the one that promised trouble and was fed off of determination, pride, and hard-work. “Yeah, I do. But the coach…” “I don’t care, get your gloves and let’s go.” Stan motioned a hand for her to follow and she did as she was told, following her great-uncle out of the room and eventually out of the house. ~~~~~~~~~~ Luckily the tryouts were only half done when Stan had Mabel’s hand and was walking her back inside the room. Her soft brown eyes found the scary Mr. Boxcoach and her hand tightened around Stan’s. “That’s him.” “I got this.” Stan muttered back. “OY! Veins! You and I need to talk!” Mr. Boxcoach had to whistle a match to stop and he turned to the new arrivals that stood outside his ring. Stan climbed up swiftly and had his hands on his hips, a suave, strong man in a suit looking deadly with cold brown eyes and tight fists just right for throwing a good punch. The atmosphere got ten degrees colder as Mr. Boxcoach realized he had talked badly about Stanley Pines’s girl. “Yes, sir?” He asked casually. “You tell my grandniece she can’t box?!” “Oh, well I was only looking after her…” “Well she doesn’t need you to look after her! She can look after herself and do a better job at it than most grown-ups!” Mabel, meanwhile, was turning pink with pride. “And you’re gonna give her the same chance you would give any other boy!” “Or what?” Mr. Boxcoach snarled. “Or we’re gonna have problems.” Stan growled and even Mabel felt a shiver go down her spine. Despite being the same size, Mr. Boxcoach looked significantly smaller than Stan. Mr. Boxcoach swallowed and then huffed, “Fine. Kid, you’re next. You’ll go against Drake.” “What?!” The pale sandy-haired kid with freckles yelled. He was one of the two already in the ring. “I’m not boxing with a girl!” “Why not, your friend is.” Mabel snapped. Stan swelled with pride and the other boy, a dark-skinned boy with brown curls, “oh”ed with a smile and said he’d fight her. Stan patted her back and said, “I’ll be in the bleachers. Kick their butts.” ~~~~~~~~~~ Ford and Dipper were watching the Used To Be About History Channel when Stan and Mabel came back home with huge smiles on their faces. “Guess who’ll be in boxing matches this summer?” “Mabel, that’s wonderful!” Ford cheered and gave her a hug when she hopped up on his lap in the armchair. “Congratulations! I’m so proud of you.” “Me, too.” And Dipper ruffled her hair from the dino-skull end table. “I knew you’d make the team!” “And I got a date!” Mabel added joyfully and punched the air in victory. “You did?” Ford asked, bewildered how boxing could lead to romance. He looked at his brother for clarification. “She did?” “It was a productive afternoon.” Stan simply said as he hung his suit jacket up. ~~~~~~~~~~ Mabel climbed up into the ring, her hair up in her pink scrunchie and her little butterfly pinning back her hair so she could see her opponent. She wore red and the enemy wore yellow, like gold without the sparkle. She narrowed her eyes and gritted her teeth, taking her stance. The big, nasty boy with crooked teeth snarled at her, ready to take her apart, free to dominate and humiliate a girl, but that wasn’t going to happen. Just before the bell rang, Mabel glanced over to the bleachers and saw her boys screaming and cheering her on. They had painted their faces red with a white stripe down the center and Stan wore his red Hawaiian shirt, Ford his turtleneck solo, and Dipper held a sign that read “GO MABEL GO!” in big red letters with stars all over it and tons of glitter. He cleared his throat mid-shout and coughed up glitter, proof that he had made the sign himself. Mabel grinned and focused on the scummy teenager in front of her. The bell rang.

[stillebesat]

What's in a Dream?

Seriously. Tell me. Because I have been having quite the week of crazy dreams vivid enough for me to remember them days later and they've been....stressing me out a bit. It's hard to get a restful night's sleep when you dream like this.

Dreams I've had under cut because of length:

Tuesday Night: We were in the middle of nowhere. Desert sort of landscape. The place where three dirt roads came together. My siblings and I were 'camping' and had pulled over to investigate an old camper trailer that had been left to rot. Typical 'weathered, been sitting here exposed to the elements for ages' type of wear and tear. It was basically a skeleton of a trailer. There was even an old mattress off to the side in the dirt that was more bedsprings than mattress. Mom was there and was like "Okay, let's get in the car." so my siblings and I (3 of us) got in the car/camper and Mom started heading towards the edge of a cliff. As we were more in redrock country now/kinda on the edge of like a Grand Canyon sort of viewpoint. And I was like "Mom, you need to brake" and she was like "I'm just turning around." But she hit the brakes too late and I closed my eyes and steeled myself as the car skidded over the edge of the cliff. Because my eyes were closed I only felt the swooping sensation of falling. But when I opened my eyes again somehow the entire family had got ejected from the car before it crashed somewhere at the bottom and we landed on the side of the red sandstone cliffs which turned out to have a bit of a trail -a sketchy trail with plenty of open air where you had to edge along the side of the cliff and risk a couple of jumps over open air in order for all of us to make it safely back to the top of the cliff. My main injury was a large rose thorn that had embedded itself just above my elbow on my left arm. I pulled it out, leaving a large puncture wound there, as my phone rang. When I picked up it was my "Dad" on video call (said Dad looked like Thomas Sanders) and he was frantically packing a suitcase on the bed -throwing white clothing around- as he was talking to me reassuring me that he was on his way to rescue us and that we're all going to be fine and he'll be on the next flight over.

Wednesday Night: I was with other people in a Aquarium/University/Mall conglomerate building. The idea was to go see a show. Whether it was a movie in the theater or a show in the Aquarium is unclear, but while I was trying to grab food from the food court, someone like a 'big boss' Fury sort of figure informed me that I was a criminal and that they were trying to capture me. So instead of enjoying a show, my life got turned upside down and I had to run away from my family and friends because I didn't know who to trust and I was haphazardly trying to gather 'supplies' because I was like only 15 or so in the dream and didn't have access to everything regular adults did so I was scrambling to find money and gather clothing and my photographer cousin ended up running into me while I was on my college campus and secretly trying to help me out, but we couldn't meet for long as I was constantly running through the hallway like areas between buildings filled with grass and trees and windows that you could look inside to the classrooms and such.

Thursday Night: Me and a guy were walking along the banks of a pond when we saw this male figure (who looked kinda like the human version of Frankenstein from Hotel Transylvania 4) with half his body covered in a grey/brown mud dragging himself along the bank like a zombie sort of creature. He was doing this in a successful attempt to scare me and the other guy away from the reeds of the pond/lake we were at because (POV switch) I -the square jawed handsome guy- had just killed my wife. How I killed her? No idea. Her body (she looked like the mother from Gilmore Girls) looked like she'd been lounging on the couch and had just died. One hand propped under her head, a smile still fixed on her face even as her unseeing eyes stared at me. But there were no signs of injuries. No obvious cause of death. She was just dead. And me -the husband- decided the best way to hide the body would be to bury her in mud in the reeds of a lake, but as I was finishing the burial, I could hear this couple walking nearby, so I smeared mud on the left side of my body and began dragging myself over to them to act like a ghost or zombie so that it would scare them away. But (POV switch) I -the girl- decided that I'd had enough of creepy zombie people and returned to my dormitory (which reminded me of Hogwarts) to change my clothes and return to class. Only, when I tried to go take a shower, the girls showers were full. So I decided that I would go get clean in the boy's area. So I walked, basically naked with only a towel covering my bottom half but my top exposed through the hallways filled with guys who were standing there flummoxed that I was walking around like that and that I didn't seem to care (I did, I was just putting on an act) that I was walking around half naked in their presence.

Friday Night: I was in my bedroom, which was located on the North side of the house/apartment I lived in. I was in a basement room, in the back corner of the house with the driveway next to one window, and the backyard was behind the west one. I could hear a guy outside moving around and occasionally going into the backyard to 'do his business' aka pee on our walls. It turns out some college guy was using the driveway -which was between my house and the neighbor's house (but reminded me of my grandmother's driveway up in Wyoming) as a camping spot with a tent and everything. Which we couldn't have him there because we kinda needed the driveway to park our cars in, and when my roommate A came downstairs to talk to me about the issue, we heard the guy come down behind the house again to pee on our walls, but when he finished there was a cop there who arrested him for trespassing, but also ended up arresting Roommate A because apparently the 'special insect killer' pesticide she used to protect the plants growing on the side of our house carried an ingredient that was spelled something like "Beilium" and that was in fact a poison to humans so the cops thought that she was purposely planning to kill people because as the college students of the forensic's class told us when at least four of them descended on me and Roommate A and Roommate T that in our applications to live in the place we'd put various gothic things like ...idk... "Love tombstones, Wanna dance on graves. Best roommates are the dead ones." etc. But all three of us had filled these out in that way just to show that we had a different sort of humor compared to the other people in the area as we didn't want just 'anyone' to join us in the house to be our roommate and so the three of us had to convince these college aged investigator people that we weren't actual killers, and this was happening in my room/the kitchen so I was puttering around and grabbed a beaded bracelet of like a phoenix where the bird was 3D in beads sitting on top of the bracelet, but the bracelet was made of a tinfoil/blanket material and it folded out and became this big blanket and I was struggling to fold it back up into it's original bracelet shape (I think the colors were red and silver? maybe gold?) but it refused to fold that small and end up covering like my entire arm instead of just my wrist. I ended up giving up in favor of us taking the college students -who were outside with us talking about where they were meeting for their college graduation and basically saying "we don't know but we'll know when we know" as the closing ceremony would be happening 'soon' but first we would go grab a bite to eat and we cycled through the options but I ended up seeing Roommate A/ my sister sitting at a table of an 'Arby's so we went inside to order food to continue our discussion, but as we sat at the table the lights around us flashed three times. Which was code for "Active Shooter in the building." Everyone around us froze, counting the flashes and such and when I looked up there was a 'gunman' standing in front of the counter, with two fast food workers in black standing among the customers seated around eating their food trying to talk the gunman down. There was a buzzing in my ears making it so I couldn't understand what the shooter was saying, but the basic gist was that he would ask each person a question and if they didn't answer it right, he would shoot them. So there was "Garbled question" then BANG. Garbled question. Another BANG. And I was staring at my Cousin A who was sitting at the very front with wide eyes staring at the gunman as he turned to her to ask her a question---

Saturday Night: I had just arrived at work and was preparing to go clean the cat adoption center, only as I came into the room it turned out the adoption group we were partnered with had dropped off like 40 cats/kittens into the room. But instead of trying to fit them all into the ten cages we had, they'd placed like maybe twelve of them in the cages and then left the rest of the cats out to freely roam around the tiny adoption area, though the group had left their traveling carriers around with the doors open so the cats could seek shelter if needed,but they'd left the door to the adoption center open as well meaning that the cats could have free access to the rest of the store. However for whateve reason they had basically stuck to their enclosure. So I didn't have to worry about finding any cats elsewhere they were in this area. And one of the cats was this adorable black kitten that, when it moved, the light would catch on the fur reflecting a shimmering green peacock coloration. (the eyes on the feathers) in the fur. The kitty even had some peacock feathers along its tail. And I knew my sister would love this cat as she loves peacocks and wanted to get a cat but couldn't because her husband didn't want one, but I pulled out my phone to try and take a picture of the kitty to send to her to see if this would be the cat that would finally convince her to go ahead and get a cat, only I couldn't get a good picture because all these people kept coming into the store. First it was a huge class of like pre-schoolers/kindergartners. Then it was a group of older adults with special needs, as well as a group of people who looked to have come from a nursing home, and each group tried to come into the adoption area -which was filthy because there were cats out of their cages so there was cat littler everywhere and some of it had gotten wet from spilled water bowls and mixed from spilled food bowls so it wasn't the safest/cleanest place to be at the moment as I hadn't had time to clean the room yet. And to top it off, it was only like 7:30 in the morning. So we weren't even OPEN yet. We didn't open until NINE. So I had to fend off each group -which all had the same feisty Karen woman (who looked like our 'favorite' red headed regular customer we get into the store (she's difficult to work with)) and inform them that they couldn't be in the store at this time because we were still closed and for their safety they would need to leave. So I had to tell the group of thirty children and their six adult minders, and then the group of special needs visitors with their tenders, and then the group of nursing home people and their nurses that we were CLOSED and to leave and NONE of them were happy to hear that. But like...they were the ones who'd snuck into the building through the door of our vet clinic and not through the main store doors. So I told them to come back later. That no they couldn't see the cats as I couldn't have them in the room while I was cleaning, and that they needed to leave. No one was happy to hear that, and in the process somewhere i lost my phone and found it again in a classroom. But as I was trying to gather the supplies to clean the cages while sending people away these two girls approached me looking for replacement lightbulbs for their reptile cages and they couldn't find them. Which...we still weren't open for the day, but I ended up leading them to a little outside giftshop area where we kept our Christmas decorations -leading them through a random loading dock area filled with people working on stocking the store and such- and showed them where the lightbulbs were -though I didn't see them at first as they'd changed locations and I only found them as we were about to head down the stairs and back outside- so I was showing each customer the lightbulbs they would need for their individual lamps----

And yah....

Those are the dreams I've had this past week.

Overall my takeaway is that every aspect of my life is somehow stressing me out currently. Yaaaay.

[supergraphicultramoderngirl]

jatp rewatch #1 live blog

ep. 1, reactions below cut

- ITS MY BOYS

- ok not to be dramatic but their harmonies are. Impeccable

- bobby does not want to be here lmao

- i still cannot stop thinking about how luke should get a villan song. give me a minor bastardization arc please

- now or never deserves better

- alex and reggie need to sing more in the front in the future

- alex! have some fucking confidence!

- was. was it not supposed to be clear that rose was julie's mom

- alex sweetie i love you

- "it's like an energy, they can feel us when we're playing" oh? oh, is it?

- this one fan just called out "oh my god hi it's me" as if they know who you are,,,,, lmao

- did this dude ever get fired after killing three people with his hot dogs?????

- and so the "okay"s begin

- i can't tell if they made the foreshadowing blatant or ironic

- so is this pre-pandemic, then? or are we just ignoring it

- "hey underachiever" "hey disappointment" i love them so much

- can i have flynn's entire wardrobe tho

- everything flynn says is quotable tbh

- "DEMON"

- nick is wearing a keith haring sweatshirt

- u know what fuck it i want julie's wardrobe too

- aw babey :(

- carrie can u not be a bitch for like one second? can't want for her to get a redemption arc so i can stop hating her

- ok but why did julie only wear glasses like once? it was so cute

- ok no yeah the instruments were already there when they moved in, this is totally alex's old house

- aW BABEY :(

- just noticed the little riffs they put in the bg music as they showed each of their instruments, i'm emotional

- *poof* WE'RE HERE BITCHES get fucking ready

- why is luke just prancing in place while screaming i- fskjdfhkg

- wait are her and flynn next door neighbors? childhood best friends to lovers supremacy

- ok but the fact that julie has a therapist makes me so proud, like i get she does bc her mom died but at least she/her dad handled it properly

- the fact that her cross has a bunch of little gems and tokens on it i love her

- i just wonder how long it felt like they were gone for, or what that place was like

- can we address the floating chairs again in s2 please

- "a softer touch" then proceeds to yell at her skjfhdskjf

- "tell your friends" my brand!

- oh my god they're such fucking himbos

- how is alex the emotional one tho, like they only play that up for the first episode

- LUKE'S TINY "ba-da" I'M IN LOVE

- they are puppies. puppies disguised as human ghosts.

- that prayer makes me crack up every fucking time

- oh fuck OFF tia moving on is different for everyone and MUSIC MATTERS

- homies took like two bites and were like "ok im done eating :)"

- i love that when ray goes into the garage luke's first instinct is to protect the damn guitar

- i love that they gave alex all of the one liners, it's what he deserves

- ok i get that they need to move the plot along and establish relationships but how is she okay with this after like two (albeit, somewhat deep) conversations? they are actual ass dead people and you still don't know how they died

- why'd they have to give julie an android, man

- i'm just trying to think of what their unfinished business is

- WAIT ALEX FUCKING RAN INTO CALEB AND I NEVER NOTICED???????????

- oh my god what if him and caleb are connected

- sing bitch!!!!! just do it!!!!!!!!!

- yESSSSSSSSSS

- tbh i prefer the live versions more than the studio versions

- the lighting is so pretty in this scene

- wait tbh this one doesn't look live, her mouth doesn't line up at some points and the production sounds the same (not that there's anything wrong with that)

- but anyways if this is madison playing the piano she's fucking talented man

- BABEY!!!!!!!!