#the zit club | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rapidwaterzzz · 2 months ago

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random hermitcraft/ life series headcanons cause my brains rotting over both ;^)

OVERALL:

- after each life series all the members come back to hermitcraft and throw some form of a house party

-no one rlly dies on hermitcraft, they just tend to gets lots of injurys(broken bones, sprains, concussions, all the fun stuff)

- they definitely have an infirmary there somewhere

-each smps like a city, for example hermitcraft and empires smp r neighboring cities

INDIVIDUAL:

- Joel, Grian, and Jimmy are all siblings cause i said so

-grians oldest, joels middle, jimmys youngest

i imagine a good majority of them played some sport/ activity before coming to hermitcraft so heres some cause idk y this has been plaguing me:

bdubs: volleyball, golf

cub: some form of student council maybe??

doc: golf, lacrosse (definetly js whacks ppl w his stick)

etho: ice hockey, lacrosse

false: field hockey, track

gem: field hockey, wrestling, lacrosse

hypno: hockey

iskall: wrestling

scar: student council w cub (convex ;))

grian: tennis

jevin: football, wrestling

impulse: football, shotput

joehills: yearbook/ newpaper club(idk i get the vibe)

keralis: soccer,gymnastics(i could see him js doing a roundoff backhandspring out of nowhere dw abt it)

mumbo: golf, photography club

pearl: swimming, cross country

rendog: THE theatre kid

skizz: football, basketball, baseball

smallishbeans: soccer, volleyball, baseball

stress: cheerleading, wrestling, volleyball

tango: baseball

beef: lacrosse, football

wels: volleyball, golf

xb: swimming

xisuma: golf

zed: some form of a science club,

cleo: field hockey, softball

bigb: swimming(idk i get the vibe)

inthelittlewood: theatre kid, soccer

lizzie: field hockey, cheer, lacrosse

smajor: cheer, golf

solidarity: soccer, tennis

these could go for a highschool au or anything but i imagine they did these in highschool and then move to “hermitcraft city” or smth and they still like practice all these andn stuff

monthy hangouts are set up by the magic mountain group, usually consisting of movies and games(always sleepovers at someones base)

cleo is the best cook on the server,she host bi-annual seever wide dinners (w the help of beef and false for cooking)

bdubs and joel draw out there bases together, only time youll see them not beefin w eachother

the redstoners r covered in burn marks due to redstone lighting at wrong times or js blowimg up

cub and xisumas are the servers doctors, running the infirmary if needed

if a hermit gets a cast, crutches, a boot, splint, etc, gem, bdubs, keralis, skizz, and stress make it a goal to decorate it as much as possible(they have a competition to see who can get it done first)

after parties, xisuma, impulse, hypno, and false are usually the ones to make sure everyone gets home, being “designated walkers”(they dont drink so they can walk everyone home)(no idk where im coming up w this stuff either)

team zits definitely have movie marathons weekly(they play uno to decide who picks the series)

mumbo and grian love watching dance moms(holly is mumbos fave, kelly is grians fave)

doc, etho, beef, and gem play eachother in lacrosse all the time, getting way to agressive each time (always some form of an injury outcome)

jevin is a weirdly good baker, makes the best cakes(taste and decoration)

pearl is rlly good at anything art related (loves painting/ drawing other hermits doing whatever)

ren makes the server put on plays (hes director and the main character in every one)(hes hires whatever hermits he can get to also act in them)

75% of the times tango sneezes, something catches on fire (theres fire extinguishers everywhere imaginable)

xb is the fastest swimmer on the server by a landslide, every hermit has tried to best him but he always wins by atleast 2 seconds

zed collects little trinkets, and leaves them in peoples bases as gifts

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autumnmist101 · 4 months ago

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Hermit Head-cannons

Hello! I've been wanting to share some of my hermitcraft head-cannons and seen @silly-st4rrr was wanting to see some. So, thank you to them for giving me a reason to share. <3

General Head-cannons:

Hybrid hermits can morph forms on command or intentionally keep certain parts of each form on them at all times. However, they can also morph or go into full form involuntarily from things like nightmares, flashbacks, or just being around similar creatures for too long.

All mammal hybrids must get vaccinations yearly.

Hybrids can form in a number of ways. Some formed from contact with a creature’s DNA, some are born with the form, while others have been. . . magically infused with a form.

Traffic life victors recall all memories and emotions and trauma from the games. Non-victors recall major parts and major emotions, however, forget most of what happened.

When someone perma-dies in the games, they are immediately teleported back to hermitcraft/empires.

All worlds are connected via void, however, can be traversed via rifts, portals, teleporting, and through a main hub with shopping areas. (how do you think hermits get new clothes?) Group/duo head-cannons:

Pearl and Grian were inseparable the first week she was on the server.

Hermit Parent Club (HPC): Doc, Keralis, Joe Hills, Impulse, Skizz, Tango, Bdubs, Stress, and Beef (newest member) meet once every 2 months.

Gem, Pearl, and Mumbo will make up problems for when anyone in the Hermit Parent Club needs to feel parental.

Mumbo still wants a tower building rematch with Gem, who refuses to give him one.

Boatem still has sleepovers together monthly.

Scar and Pearl have an avoidance of chorus fruit and refuse to explain why to Grian.

It is now a rule that the ZITS crew must take a minimum of iron armor to ‘naked whatever raiding’.

Mumbo and Pearl will secretly eat red-stone torches together. Mumbo is the supplier.

Joe will supply Mumbo with redstone when he needs it. (He doesn't ask why he needs it.)

Doc and Ren have been trying to create the perfect dog treat. Problem is neither of them can bake.

Pearl and Bdubs will confide in each other on days where they feel too tall/short.

Afab hermits meet for Ladies Night at least once a month.

Bdubs and Scar still call Cleo 'Mom' from time to time.

Cleo and Pearl will talk about the games and how they wish things could have been different in DL.

That's all for now. I do have individual hermit head-cannons, but this post is long enough. Hope you enjoyed! <3

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munson-blurbs · 7 months ago

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@corrodedcoffinfest Day 11: Jeff

Word Count: 620/Rating: T/Pairing: none/CW: older Corroded Coffin, takes place in 2024, all of the guys are idiots/Tags: Jeff, Eddie Munson, Gareth, Grant, TikTok, modern!Corroded Coffin

Divider credit to @silkholland

Jeff has always been the brains of Corroded Coffin. He was the one who ensured the lighting was set before their performances at The Hideout back in high school. If an amp is faulty, he can fix it without batting an eye. Even in his middle school years, he was a proud member of the AV Club.

But this?

Jeff squints at the phone screen, trying to navigate the For You page. He’s not exactly sure who ‘you’ is, because none of these videos seem remotely interesting to him.

“What exactly am I doing here?”

“I dunno,” Eddie shrugs, scratching at the gray stubble on his cheek as he peers over Jeff’s shoulder. “Robin just said we need to make an account and to ‘connect with our younger fans.’”

Gareth has his own phone out to read off an article. “Says here that to create videos on TikTok, you press the little plus sign. Then you can add filters—”

“Filters?” Eddie’s brows furrow in confusion.

“Smooths out wrinkles, hides zits, brightens your eyes.” Jeff fills him in, still focused on the app. “Okay, now what?”

Gareth scrolls a little more. “Music. You click ‘add sound’ and then choose the song you want.”

“Ooh, how about the one that goes ‘I’m working late, ‘cuz I’m a singer’?” Grant offers, singing in an awful falsetto.

Jeff rolls his eyes. “Or we could…I dunno…use a Corroded Coffin song?” He taps the search box and types in the band’s name. “Hell and Back is our most popular on here, apparently.”

“How?” Eddie plucks the phone from Jeff’s grasp. “We haven’t even used this app before.”

“But our songs are on here,” Jeff explains, conjuring up all of his remaining patience. “And people use those with their videos.”

The other three band members nod, but Jeff’s willing to bet that none of them have any clue what’s going on. He takes the phone back from Eddie, selects the song, and turns to Gareth. “What’s next?”

“Hold down the red circle to record.” Gareth looks around at his bandmates. “Any ideas about what we wanna do first?”

The room plunges into silence until Eddie speaks up. “This isn’t the nudie website, right?”

Grant snorts. “No, that’s OnlyFans.”

“That was a quick answer, Granty-Boy. A little too quick.”

“Beavis! Butthead!” Jeff snaps, effectively shutting them up. “Robin’s email said we should just introduce ourselves and say that we’re excited to be on TikTok.”

He aims the camera at Eddie first. “Go ahead and say your name.”

“Eddie.”

“Christ on a cracker.” He massages the bridge of his nose. “Try actually greeting people. Like, ‘hey, I’m Eddie.’”

“Coulda just said that,” Eddie grumbles, but he looks into the camera and repeats what Jeff said. The rest of the band follows suit as Jeff directs them.

When it’s Jeff’s turn, he smiles and turns the camera on himself. “I’m Jeff. Welcome to Corroded Coffin’s TikTok!” He moves his finger off of the record button. “All right, let’s see what we got.”

“Go ahead and say your name.”

“Eddie.”

“Christ on a cracker. Try actually greeting people. Like, ‘hey, I’m Eddie.’”

“Coulda just said that. Okay, hey, I’m Eddie.”

“Great. Okay, now Grant.”

“I’m Grant. Super excited to finally be on OnlyFans.”

“Grant!”

“Sorry, I mean TikTok.”

“Gare?”

“Hi, I’m Gareth. I like long walks on the beach, outdoor concerts—”

“This isn’t your personal dating profile.”

“Just making conversation.”

“You’re all hopeless. Anyway. I’m Jeff. Welcome to Corroded Coffin’s TikTok!”

Jeff glances up from the video, cringing as it starts playing on a loop. Whatever Robin had in mind for this social media endeavor, it probably wasn’t this.

“Hey, Gareth?”

“Ya?”

“Can you Google how to edit videos on TikTok?”

#eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #fanfic #corroded coffin #corroded coffin fest #gareth emerson #jeff corroded coffin #grant corroded coffin

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sidequestsinlife · 11 days ago

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philm club notes 🧡

just random thoughts and interesting bits while watching (liveshow link here from dec 19 2018), yes this is long i'm terrible at editing myself. def watched this in 2018 but i don't regularly watch back their liveshows so i'm sure i haven't seen it since, let's see what surprises are in store!

why is younow audio so shit

don't put toothpaste on your zits pls phil

the discussion of their different feelings about going to their family homes is nothing new at this point but still interesting to hear them talk about. i wonder if dan feels like things are less haunted now that he's not still in the closet? don't think he's really talked about it post coming out?

but regardless it is very sweet to hear how much dan always enjoys the lesters and how welcoming they are, some things never change

phil is very correct with those comments about the rain and the roads, for some fucking reason even though it rains all the fucking time here and it also does seriously impede travel?? my train was cancelled for rain recently??? why do they not have better ways to deal with this?? i will never understand this country

younow why do you suck so bad, i had to minimize the window while i listen bc it's so out of sync it's making me insane, i hate seeing them look at each other all cute and smiley and not being able to figure out which part of what they're saying those expressions go with arghhhhhhhh

this was a time full of big announcements wow

the hiatus was NOT a short time and dan fully knew it wouldn't be he is a liar but he is forgiven (or will be once wdapteo 5 drops at least)

"if i ever upload on danisnotonfire again, the uploads will be more regular than they are now" LIARRRRRRRRRR AGAIN

drinking game take a shot every time these lying liars lie and soon you will be DEAD

this whole thing about ending things while they're good is going to make me paranoid that they're just going to peace out in the middle of some fantastic content in this new era too ugh. just gonna be like "wow this is my fav video they've ever made guess it'll be the LAST video they ever make"

more lies

they are obviously the obnoxiously loud neighbors and i hope the phouse has thick walls or is a fully detached house with some significant space btw them and the neighbors or i'm sure they're still getting people ringing the doorbell at 2am telling them to shut up

"he is not logan paul" (discussion of joe sugg being a "good egg") is very much not a high bar lmao

if phil didn't have dan to help him sort out his lefts and rights and stop him from walking into objects/off ledges/etc do you think he would still be alive and have all his original limbs

it is very sweet that they make clear the hiatus is not a life change though just a youtube change, they're not going anywhere in each other's lives regardless of joint content (or lack thereof) and they want to reassure everyone of that

they get each other gifts they want for themselves lmao, of course they do, they share everything. this is also why dan doesn't understand in 2024 why people would dare get him a gift that phil can't also enjoy. they are one person. dan and phil's pronouns are we/us.

phil does not go outside but he has four coats. i relate to this as i also do not like to go outside especially when the weather isn't great, but i am pretty sure i own FIVE coats. this is unnecessary.

2018 dan has clearly thought a lot about phil's beauty and aesthetic in a very non-gay way i'm sure

the 2018 casualties of the phass include several christmas tree ornaments apparently

ellen plagiarized phil???? how did i forget this?? also apparently this was pre everyone realizing ellen sucks

every time i watch pre-hiatus anything back, no matter how much i enjoyed it originally and still like it now, i'm reminded of how much more reserved they were, and how much more free and happy and gay they are now in this current era. i loved them then, sure, but the new era is so much better, and i'm so glad that they feel this way now and that they feel comfortable enough to share it with us 🧡

#philm club #dan and phil #phan #dnp #phil lester #daniel howell #amazingphil #dan howell #danisnotonfire

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persephoneprice · 8 months ago

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you know what i’d love to talk about? petty drama between the academy students and silly headcanons. therefore i am presenting my list of academy drama between the students and silly headcanons (not to be taken too seriously):

→ festus creed is definitely the local plug. once business really starts taking off, he brings in pup harrington as his assistant. pup gets fired because he smokes too much to actually do the things festus tells him too.

→ when they were 14, livia cardew invited everyone to her birthday party except vipsania sickle because vipsania took gym too seriously and made livia cry during basketball. they didn’t speak for 3 months.

→ persephone price and felix ravinstill lowkey have a rivalry because they both want to be festus’s best friend. one day when they’re about 12, persephone takes the seat next to festus in panem history class and felix began calling her ‘pimple price’ due to his irritation and her unfortunately having a large zit.

→ urban canville is the student that argues with the teacher because he always thinks he knows better. everyone groans when he opens his mouth because they know there’s no stopping it. until finally lysistrata of all people had enough and called him out and he sulked for a month and refused to speak in class at all.

→ hilarious heavensbee does drag at pluribus bell’s club.

→ someone (apollo ring) started a rumor that the ravinstill family has been in power so long because they do ritual cult sacrifice. felix finally got sick of it and stood up in front of everyone to explain that he had never sacrificed any animals for power nor had any member of his family per his knowledge.

→ arachne crane was in a toxic situationship with juno phipps for a good 6 months. no one mentions it out of fear of having to relive the drama.

→ dennis fling tried out for the track team every year and never made it. it became a running joke amongst the students to say you’re going to pull a dennis fling if you know you’re going to fail something.

please feel free to share your silliest headcanons or ideas for petty drama!!

#persephone price #felix ravinstill #festus creed #pup harrington #hilarious heavensbee #apollo ring #arachne crane #dennis fling #juno phipps #tbosas #livia cardew #vipsania sickle #lysistrata vickers #urban canville #this is all very silly don’t take it seriously #but i think we need more silly thoughts!!!#silliness

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joslincox · 10 months ago

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Dancing Cell

Cover of: Dancing Queen by ABBA

Ooh

You can dance

You can jive

Having the time of your life

Ooh, see that blood cell

Watch that scene

Digging the dancing cell

Friday night and the lights are low

Looking out for a place to go

Where they play the right music

Getting in the swing

You come to look for a king

Anybody could be that guy

Night is young, and the music's high

With a bit of rock music

Everything is fine

You're in the mood for a dance

And when you get the chance

You are the dancing cell

Young and sweet

Only seventeen

Dancing cell

Feel the beat from the tambourine, oh yeah

You can dance

You can jive

Having the time of your life

Ooh, see that blood cell

Watch that scene

Digging the dancing cell

You're a teaser, you turn 'em on

Leave 'em burning and then you're gone

Looking out for another

Anyone will do

You're in the mood for a dance

And when you get the chance

You are the dancing cell

Young and sweet

Only seventeen

Dancing cell

Feel the beat from the tambourine, oh yeah

You can dance

You can jive

Having the time of your life

Ooh, see that blood cell

Watch that scene

Digging the dancing cell

#osmosis jones #osmosis jones 2011 #cover lyrics #the zit club #blood cells #cover song #city of frank

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mcyt-trios · 1 year ago

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PROPAGANDA:

Team Zit:

Separate, they are insane. Together, they are even more insane and egg each other on plus bonus funny noises, jokes, and redstone.

Umm my little redstone science freaks teehee <3

Everyone looks at them and assumes that Impulse is the one in control, that he’s the one who’s got his shit together and has to reel the other two in but he isn’t. He really isn’t lmfao. Two redstone geniuses and a mad scientist but when they’re in the same room together all of their collective braincells go fleeing in terror.

Champions of the first season of Hardcore Hermits, even though they were the only team playing without natural regeneration! They're a platonic trio but sometimes joke about each other in a way that's on the edge of what is appropriate for Hermitcraft.

Broken Hearts Club:

martyn and ren take every chance to be dramatic and pearl takes every chance to be chaotic. they work well together they all got minecraft cheated on

they're just sad little guys. One of them is absolutely deranged, another has voices in his head and the last one has no filter in his speech /aff Also, BURN THE LOG! CROACK THE FROG! PET THE DOG!

These people are just.. losers.. (or 'loose cannons' as Pearl and Martyn call themselves). They're sopping wet cats who were ABANDONED by their soul mates. Saddest, wettest cat trio.

#mcyt-trios #mcytblr trio bracket #polls #round 2

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alarici · 1 month ago

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Day 3: First date / new beginnings 𓃗

rating M, chose not to warn, 3k+ words

They went to the same fucked up boarding school in the '90s. That's what's funny about it, when they run into each other, both on vacation in Rome.

They dated for three months before uni. "Dated." As close to dated as a pseudo-goth wonderkind and a punk-going-nowhere-fast can do, one sun-streaked summer in Brighton. They were both working the same job. They were both the rare classmates who weren't summering in the south of France or Andalusia (with the “th”) or the Canary Islands. Matt was working the teller at a little ice cream shop near Preston Park. Mello made fresh Neapolitan in the back, because he was no good with customers and had a mean face. A beautiful, mean face.

At least Matt thought he was beautiful back then. Because he was. Hair cut at the neck, brushing collarbones. Blond. No zits at eighteen. No stubble or razor burns, either. But mean as anything. A circus lion with a few month left ‘till breaking out of the cage.

Which was what Matt always knew he liked about Mello. I am easy, you are not. But that summer, it was nothing serious. They were just kids. It was just a summer.

Your first heartbreak goes like this: The sun rises over the Island. You deal with the gaggle of weekenders or day trippers. Matt falls in love with the idea of a boy who's headed to LSE for Accounting and Finance. Matt falls in love with the idea that he's cool enough to date this guy. Matt loses £40 in paper bills at the register and learns how to swim.

In all, it was a memorable summer. When Matt’s skipping his classes at his University up north, he'll tell stories, like any boy his age, about popping his cherry with a nice girl, a looker, from his sixth form. Matt won’t talk like that to the blond girls he dates—the dyed blondes he makes out with in club bathrooms or the tall upperclassman he fondles in his friend’s living room. He’ll tell them they’re lovely, beautiful. That he likes their earrings and isn’t just desperate to touch their warm skin and compare, and that he doesn't need to be told, dogmatically—you’ve been found wanting, and but isn’t this what it’s all about?

Only when he’s much older, living in Berlin, he'll tell stories closer to the truth. But those take place in more interesting places. As he tells it: His first time was in Naples, Nantes, or a beautiful town in the Austrian Lakes District. “This beautiful guy I worked with. Like a model, right? He let me suck him off in a club bathroom.” “...in a Hostel suite.” “...on the beach.”

But he never said Brighton, never a desperate, messy thing in the staff-only wash closet. He can’t hide he’s English, but he can keep the details of Mello to himself.

Brighton was small. Those memories are for him alone. Or—he thought they were, that he was the only one who treasured them, and it was only his fault that they ended that way. Imagine his surprise when Mello washes into his life again. With a new haircut—longer, less choir boy, more rockstar. Fitting. A scar on his face. Still beautiful, still handsome, etc. Business casual. Leather boots and expensive cotton pants.

They go on their first date—the kind you're supposed to take grown people too, where you dress up nice and pick out the appropriate cologne and aftershave—at 8 at night on a Tuesday in Milan.

By then, everything about Matt, on the surface, pleads, “I’ve grown, or I've tried to.” He lifts weights on occasion. He smokes a lot less than in his early twenties. He has a job that pays him well and only needs him in the office twice a year. He has a nice Computer Science degree, first class, from the University of York. He’s lived in Dresden, Berlin, Glasgow, Amsterdam, and Marseille. He’s living in Vienna now. He’s had a long term girlfriend, two long-term boyfriends, and many situations and short term vacation flings.

Very honestly, he doesn’t think much of Mello from eight years ago. It’s ancient history. It was a fun summer. A summer of firsts and lasts. A summer spent putting the punctuation on their ten years of knowing each other until then. A summer that ended abruptly (though the writing was on the wall). They never agreed not to stay in touch. That’s just how it happened.

Matt would have followed Mello anywhere, which was why he never sent his application to Imperial College London, and watched as years in London with Mello became a parallel future. Never touching.

In the end, Matt only applied to schools in cities he’d never visited and didn’t particularly want to go to. Leeds, Lancaster. He wanted to get far away from the South. Figured the further from London, the better, if he wasn’t there himself.

He’d been told that he’d “succeed wherever he went.” Less, and with more platitude, than Mello had, but he was still called a “bright kid.” Boarding school was teeming with kids who were dumb as rocks, or bright but lacking a family name or a family friend or a family at all. Mello had raged when he hadn’t gotten into Oxford. As though LSE for economics wasn’t just as good.

So, they meet in Rome. Randomly, in a busy cafe. They’re both twenty seven. Matt’s hair is burnt red—a recent dye job at a salon in another city. He hasn’t dyed his own hair in a few years. Sounds like a fun project for a rainy day when the red goes orange and stale.

Back then, Matt threw himself into and out of bouts of insecurity with abandon. A moment of courage. A moment of cowardice. Repeat. He fell into Mello’s bed because of course, it’s you, it’s Mello. He’d been obsessed with Mello since they met as kids. When Mello finally looked back at him that summer, saying yes wasn’t hard.

Fuck, who wouldn’t say yes.

In this nice cafe in Rome, Matt sees the blond hair out of the corner of his eye. And then black gloves in April. And then a striking face. Mello.

He almost doesn’t call out. Almost doesn't catch Mello’s elbow with a cheeky smile. “Mello! Hi! It’s me.” Too cheerful. Too forced. But it gets Mello’s attention when he jerks away, sees Matt, and pauses.

What if he’s in a relationship? That’s fine. It’s not like...

What if he doesn’t want to speak to me? Matt figures this is also okay. It was Matt that let him get away in the first place.

What if he doesn’t recognize me?

Matt smiles down at the double shot in Mello’s hand. Mid-morning espresso. And Mello looks Matt up and down.

“Matt...” Mello’s voice is deeper than sixth form. No shit. It’s still this thing... this thing that catches Matt off guard. Of course we’ve both changed. Of course you sound like...

“Are you...can we talk right now?” Matt is sure he sounds overeager. Mello is probably busy. It’s a Thursday morning in April. Mello’s probably here on Business. Why Rome but not Milan? Why stepping out for coffee in the north of the city when the financial center is in the south? Why not pull a shot of the office coffee machine?

“Yes. I have some time.” Mello is studying him. Matt feels distinctly judged. Mello’s clothing is quality. Expensive in the casual way. A pretty watch winks on his left wrist. A silver OMEGA with a blue face. Matt looks down at the leather cord knotted with beads around his own wrist. A tourist trinket from the Spanish isles two summers ago. He’s wearing his best jeans, though. His teeth are clean.

Matt watches a plaintive smile, a little ironic, almost genuine, cross Mello’s face as they find a row of counter to stand at, shoulder to shoulder.

It feels wrong to just say, “So, how’ve you been?” But it comes out anyway.

Matt was the one who initiated, back then. A Friday pregame never left the flat, and they were crushed up against each other on a crusted couch. Liquid courage in his veins. Mello’s face flushed. Mello, happy, smiling at the coworker’s dog. A chocolate lab licking cheese balls off the carpet.

Matt was sitting across Mello’s lap. Lack of couch space. Not uncommon, for them, back then. But Matt got daring. Courage bites teenagers like rats. Matt aimed for Mello’s bitten lips, and that was that.

A summer of fun. More snogging than talking. Holding hands on the Ferris wheel where nobody could see. A polaroid in Matt’s wallet until the cheap velcro thing was stolen in Paris three years ago alongside sixty euros and his apartment key.

“I’m on a flight to Taranto tomorrow.” Mello says, of all things. Not, “I’ve been promoted to senior analyst,” or, “I’m thinking about getting an MBA at INSEAD.” In Matt’s imagination, Mello is important and successful and Matt is still too unambitious, soft, lazy, etc. This was part of their conflict, when Mello made it stand between them. The paradox, or maybe the problem, was that Matt was unambitious, and you can’t love someone hard enough to become a tiger to make the great circus escape for them. You were born in the year of the dog. (Matt was actually born in the year of the horse. Mello the snake. That one, at least, was fitting. Cold blooded and pretty. Matt finds himself reliable like a horse. Prone to nervous kicking.)

“Business or pleasure?” Matt smiles with his teeth and rotates his Americano in his hands.

“Both.”

A lapse of silence. Mello looks completely content for Matt to attempt to call the shots at this reunion. Happy to watch Matt flounder for a worthwhile question.

“It’s—it’s been a while.”

“It’s been nine years,” Mello says, half frown, half conceding that yes. It’s been almost ten years. They’re strangers, practically. Matt hasn’t thought about Mello in a long, long time. He remembered him when his girlfriend broke up with him, “I want to settle down, and it’s clear that you don't.” He remembered him in hour thirty of a forty hour bender in Glasgow, lying in a hostel bed, watching the ceiling melt into shapes and colors.

“What are you doing in Rome?” Mello asks. Taking pity or what, Matt’s not sure. But he ends Matt’s clamouring for a decent reply.

“Visiting a friend.”

“Vacation?”

“Nah.”

“What do you do these days?” A twist on Matt’s question. A challenge. Mello must think Matt’s pissing his life away. That he’s actually gone nowhere fast. Mello and his six thousand euro watch. Matt and all his insecurity, his newly dyed hair. The obvious hole near the sleeve on his Jersey cotton T-shirt.

“I’ve got a gig. Tech, ya know. I get my work done and they let me piss around.”

“All over the continent?”

“Yeah. More or less. I just need to log on once and a while. I have meetings on Fridays and Saturdays sometimes. My permanent address is in Austria right now.”

“Can you speak German?” Instead of anything else, Mello asks something unimportant. A doubting tone.

“Ja. Ich kann Deutsch sprechen.” With a smile. This is the bit. This is where Matt can handle himself. Joking in a few languages. Mello has to know four, conversationally, at least, by now. They’re probably all in one 10-point font line on his CV. After studying Latin in sixth form and winning some national award for his proficiency. Matt vaguely remembers his pouring over a Mandarin textbook one August night, the both of them sweaty in bed, because Near was learning.

“Everyone in Vienna speaks English, anyway,” Mello says, offhand.

“Not all of my friends,” Matt tries to act cool. I know locals. I know grandmas who don’t know my English. People haven’t made fun of my accent in a few years.

Benvenuto a Roma!

The wash closet was a spur of the moment thing. When you’re seventeen and horny over god knows what (your boyfriend, your boyfriend you wake up next to some days and pinch yourself and lock yourself in the bathroom over) the wash closet with the janitor kit and the plastic sink and the cobwebs is as good a place as any to get down on your knees. Matt felt Mello’s hands in his damp hair. Felt the short hairs on his upper leg against his cheek. Choking, a little, until Mello let him catch his breath.

The first time was by no means the best, but it holds its place as being the first.

None of Matt’s plans for the day, the week, the month involved hopping on a plane down to the South of Italy. Taranto, a fairly unimportant seaside city. Supposedly a tourist hidden gem. Mello hadn’t offered, but hadn’t said no when Matt said, with this teenage courage, “I’ve never been. Can I come?”

When catching up with words goes nowhere—there’s a lot they understand about each other, even now, like this. That Mello prefers being intuited and hates small talk with people he knows well. That Mello doesn’t want to talk about his past five years of traveling for business and learning Arabic and SAS and bullshitting PowerPoints. That he doesn’t need to ask to catch on that Matt’s totally still into anything. That Mello is waiting for Matt to do something. That Mello, despite practically looking at Matt down his nose, is still looking with the wanting, daring look in his eyes.

Matt hasn’t done well for himself. He’s done ok. He does full stack. He does day drinking and walking across a few national borders with dope haven’t caught up to him, yet. He’s good at his job. He needs to buy a new laptop. He can’t decide between two identical processors. He can get his buddy to build a machine for him, remove the stupid choices and get it done.

There’s a Mac on the desk in Mello’s five star hotel room. Mello makes him take a shower. They make out wordlessly on the sofa and Matt thinks he’s okay with this. He likes this. The hardness of Mello beneath him, and the familiarity. A new scar on his shoulder, tiny compared to the one on his face, but there. Doubtful he still likes the same things, but Matt can try.

A lot of their mates knew they were shagging, but didn’t really say anything about it. And nobody teased Matt about how in love he was, so he must have hid it well. He went to sleep every night desperate to be holding Mello, or for Mello to be holding him, and only got his wish some of the nights. As August dwindled, Matt remembers a long walk on the beach. Close to midnight. Some of the nightlife was still crawling, tipsy, to another bar, or home, but the shoreline was quiet. The lights still reflected off the water around the pier.

“Are we gonna...do you want to stay in touch?” Matt asks. Waiting for the kick. The no. The, “good dogs stay.”

“Maybe.”

It was practically a no.

Mello looped his arm around Matt’s waist and into his pocket.

“I don’t think this’ll work. After this summer.”

“I know.”

They manage to talk on the flight to Taranto.

“Where do you live?” Matt asks.

“Biel.”

“Not so far from Vienna.”

“Germany is in between.” Mello argues.

“Germany is not so large.” It is, Matt knows it is. Took the regional trains from Hamburg to Munich for all nine hours.

“You sound like an American.”

Matt laughs. “I’m not.”

“Have you been?”

“Of course. I worked in the Flatiron for a few months.” Mello says it as though he assumes Matt doesn’t know what the Flatiron building is.

“What’s that?” Matt humors him. A piss at acting the fool, again.

“A building.”

“Ah. I’ve been to Boston and Palo Alto.”

“That is where all you techie types assemble.”

Mello has the window seat. Matt’s supposed to be sitting four rows ahead, but it’s not a packed flight. It was expensive. Matt’s stock options have been performing well, the past year or so.

And again, Taranto isn’t built to last. Matt has no accommodations of his own when he finds himself by the sea with Mello again. He ends up on Mello’s couch until he’s invited to the bed. But instead of bumping uglies, they just sleep the first night. He’s being held at arm's length. He’s being kissed and then left in the hotel while Mello goes to meet his business associate on a yacht. Well, Matt does have work to do. He opens his laptop and stares at the blinking cursor. At Wednesday night’s error messages. Fuck.

On Sunday, Mello finds a church and Matt finds the sea.

On Monday, they sit down at a cafe, once again. Two grown up strangers.

“Do you ever think about it?”

“What?”

“Wammy’s.”

“No.”

Liar.

“How was LSE?”

Kiss. Not an answer. Matt imagines the answer is something like, “Fine. They didn’t like me. I was too smart, and they were too far up their own asses.” And then he gets distracted by Mello’s lips on his neck. A hand needling at his belt.

They end up on a fisherman’s boat. Mello talks himself into this, and Matt comes along. Matt can swim, but he’s afraid of the open ocean. No truce has been met. They fell asleep in the same bed the night before. They walked the streets of Taranto together after dinner. Matt paid. They talked and talked about a lot of nonsense. A lot of stuff that got at the meat of the time that had passed and revealed nothing at all. If you’re going to be difficult, I can be, too.

Matt doesn’t tell Mello about his trip to Belfast. That he found his uncle. And that he’s been invited to his niece’s wedding. That his mother died six years ago in hospital.

Matt doesn’t ask where Mello got the scar that takes up half of his face. Makes him hotter, in Matt’s subjective opinion. But he wears it less like a badge and more like a dare. I know you’re looking.

The coastline shrinks. The fisherman tells them about dolphins and the lines he’s putting down and the coastline. That is that town. This is the other town. Look at the Rizzos dolphins following the boat.

Mello starts speaking to him in Italian, and Matt rolls his eyes. He catches spare words, cognates from the Spanish and such he knows, but not enough. He considers rolling off the side of the boat and touching a baby dolphin. He thinks of how deep the Mediterranean must be, this close to the shore, still.

When Mello returns to him, eventually, his hair is wind swept. There’s salt spray on his neck.

“I just broke up with my fiance.” Mello says, suddenly.

“Your what.”

“I just broke up with my fiance.”

“Did she cheat on me?”

“No. He was too young.” He.

“How old was he?”

“Twenty six.” Mello says.

“You’re twenty seven.”

“He was too immature.”

“Why did you agree to marry him?” Matt asks the choppy waves.

“His parents have titles and a big house.”

“I never thought you’d be the kind...” to marry rich? I thought about it a lot when I was in York and you were in Oxfordshire. You’d find a girl whose parents parents went way back. Or a boy, and he’d have a family that was okay with it if you wore the right clothes.

“I didn't marry him.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know.” Too immature?

“Is that why you’re here?”

“No.”

“Do you even live in Biel?”

“Biel, Bienne.”

“Bienna?”

Matt earns a smile, self effacing, unbidden, from Mello with this. Why not Zurich? Maybe he never stays at home.

They make it back to Milan in a week. They spent the rest of the days in Taranto fucking through early mornings. Being lazy creatures. Matt’s dragged this new Mello, scarred, pantsuits, fisherman-chatting, calf leather shoes Mello, down with him. This newly broken up Mello that seems to have kept the bite from when he was eighteen and baying for blood.

“Is this where I leave you?” Matt asks. It was fun. Nothing like Brighton. Taranto is more scenic. The medieval and classical castles and fortresses on the southern coast. Nothing like Naples or the tourist corridors.

“I had a reservation with my fiancé tonight.”

“Are you asking me to marry you? You haven’t asked me on a date since Cafe Aquila in Rome.”

“You’re buying yourself a suit. I don’t care where. We’re going out.”

“If you insist.”

Snort. Hiss.

And so it goes.

#tbc or as I edit tomrrow #But I wanted to post before end of m2 week #mattmelloweek2024 #mellodramattic #m2

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spibberboi · 7 months ago

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Espresso - Ch. 2

The Zit

A/N: Thank you so much for those who have been reading! I’m really enjoying writing this story for you guys! And thank you to everyone for showing your love and support! I really appreciate it!

Warnings: character death, death by radiation

Finally it was Friday. Enji closed up shop and beamed as he looked around his shop, searching for a good outfit to wear. Maybe he could wear his favorite outfit.. he had altered it over the years, making sure it would fit him as he carefully removed stitching and resewed it. No, that was too old school.. Enji sighed, walking to the back to look through his clothing wracks.

After a little bit of searching, he smiled and picked out a nice cocktail dress, one that was black, strapless and cut off right at the middle of his thighs. Quickly, the foxtail changed into it and smiled before walking to one of the floor-length mirrors to look at himself. Luckily, this one had a cutout specifically so his tail would be able to be free. “Perfect.. this seems nice for a meeting. At least for where I’m going anyways..” He said to himself, soon walking over to a display of shoes he had at the front of the store. He hummed as he looked over the shoes. Luckily, all of the display shoes were his own, so he could take them as he pleased.

He settled on a pair of black pair of Ellie’s, specifically the Diana Boot style with laces. In just a few moments, he had them on and then walked back to the mirror to look at himself. Enji beamed as he saw himself in the mirror, biting his lip as he turned a bit and looked at himself. “Daayyuuuum~ Maybe you’ll find a date tonight~”

He laughed at himself then and shook his head, rolling his eyes a bit. “Yeah right.. once they know what you are they take off running.. whatever.”

With that being said, Enji collected his truck keys and purse, then he locked all of the doors before he left.

The journey up to the Zit wasn’t too awful, being it was just in downtown Forehead. The drive was peaceful, considering it was Friday. Already though, he could see the traffic lined up by the club. Luckily, he got reserved parking for these kinda pop-up clubs and he parked, then got out and locked his truck before he got out and walked around to go inside. The music was thumping and the atmosphere was lovely. Everyone was just trying to have fun while the club lasted. Enji smiled as he weaved through the crowd, going to the bar and getting himself a drink.

He looked around, then he sighed. But that’s when he spotted one of his friends and smiled. Alejandro La Muerte, a black mold spore who was known for his work on the backstreets and underground. He ran the biggest fight championships in town, with the fighters he trained being the ones to always make it to the top.

Enji smiled as he walked over to the mold spore, punching his arm.

Alejandro gasped and turned, his two eyes looking around before he looked down and saw Enji, then he laughed and threw his arms around the virus. “Enji, my friend! It is so good to see you! Where have you been, amigo?”

Enji laughed some as he wrapped an arm around Alejandro, being careful not to spill his drink in the other. “Oh you know, around. I have a shop to run and orders to fill so you know I don’t really get to do much.”

Alejandro nodded, standing with his arm around Enji as he always did. There were no romantic feelings, but it was so funny watching people around them try and decipher if they were an item. Enji could see it on the group’s faces that had been talking to Alejandro originally, which had earned him some envious stares from some of the girls that were standing there. It just made Enji laugh.

Alejandro then excused himself and they went to a booth off in the corner, sitting down. “So, I’m assuming you’re here for that meeting?” The spore asked, tilting his head some. His cytoplasmic hair moved like a lava lamp around him and glimmered in the dim lights of the club. Enji had always wondered what it was like to be just a spore, it seemed fun. But then his attention went back to the question.

“Yeah, I heard some big shot was hosting it tonight. No one knows his name though except the boys he’s been working with.” Enji said, looking at his drink before taking a sip.

Alejandro nodded a bit and crossed his arms, sitting back in his seat. “Yeah, some of his boys are the ones I trained a few years ago. Their head honcho sits up in a private sweat gland all day, talking about the glory days ‘n shit like that.” Alejandro then leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “And I heard this dude took him out. Sliced him clean up.”

Enji’s eyes widened as he heard that before his ears laid back some. “Sliced him up? With what, a knife? Usually that doesn’t even matter, the bacteria always coagulate and reform.”

“It wasn’t with no knife, amigo.. dude’s got claws, and sharp ones at that.” Alejandro started, “The boys that witnessed it said it smelled like he burned the honcho up as he sliced ‘n diced him.”

The foxtail’s eyes widened again and he looked to his drink, thinking about a few days ago. The claws.. Thrax. An unknown virus, suddenly in the body and causing fucking havoc everywhere he went. Enji sat back and crossed his arms a bit, looking back up to Alejandro. “I think I saw this guy a couple days ago.. he ran into my shop and hid out for a bit from the cops.”

“He what?!” Alejandro exclaimed, standing up and looking at Enji with his two eyes wide. “Dude, you can’t be serious! You’ve already met this guy and he didn’t try to fuckin’ kill you?”

Enji shook his head, “Nah, he was chill. Made off with one of my shirts, but he was chill.”

Alejandro stared in disbelief. Usually viruses killed other viruses when they encounter them, but this.. was so different. The spore then sighed a bit. “Christ man.. you are so lucky. Did he say anything to you? Threaten you any?”

“No, he actually.. was being nice. I know what you’re thinkin’; viruses hate other viruses, but he.. didn’t look at me like he wanted to kill me. He looked scared.. like I was when I first got here.” Enji said, using one of his claws to stir his drink. Alejandro grimaced a bit and shook his head. “Scared? Dude, he was probably playing you. You ain’t like other viruses, you don’t live to kill humans, you never did.”

Enji sighed at that, “Yeah, I know. But he.. I don’t know. It was in the back room, so it was dark.”

The mold spore scoffed and soon stood up, “Well either way, we better hope immunity catches him soon, or we’re all gonna be dead.”

Enji knew Alejandro was right. He knew someone needed to get a hold on this guy, stop him before it was too late. The party thumped on as they talked about more mundane things; dating, social life.. anything else. Enji’s mind kept creeping back to Thrax though, thinking about the virus’ motives, why he lived to kill. He had met plenty of other viruses in his lifetime, all ones that ended up with a vaccine.. but it had been so long since he had seen a new one, one as deadly as Thrax. The more he thought about it, the more his brain started to hurt and he sighed, deciding he needed to stop.

“Oi, I think someone germs are heading up to that meeting. You should probably go on,” Alejandro said as he looked over at the stairs leading up to seemingly a conference room. Enji looked up and his ears laid back some. He protected these germs, kept them safe from immunity and FPD. He was.. a leader of sorts, and he took in germs, helped them get back on their feet.

He sighed then and got up, finishing off his drink before he slowly made his way over to the staircase and then up to the conference room. Alejandro was following in tow. Being another major figure in this body, he knew he needed to attend too.

The pair sat down at the far end of the table, Enji immediately crossing his legs and arms as he did so. In just a few moments, he was served drinks and a snack, such as he always was. He thanked the germ that served him and sipped on his drink, looking up just as the door opened again. Enji didn’t notice at first, but there was a certain blue cell harboring one eye that looked.. awfully familiar. Close to a white blood cell that frequented his shop for clothes and the suchlike.

‘Nah, that can’t be Ozzy.. hm.. Whatever.’ Enji thought to himself, continuing to sip his drink.

Then, there he was. The long black coat, the black jeans and boots, and then that damn shirt he took. Thrax walked in with a smile and sunglasses on his face, soon pushing the shades up onto his head as he looked around at the group. “Well, well, well.. this had a better turnout than I thought.”

Everyone looked at Thrax, staying quiet as he stood at the head of the table and started talking. Enji sipped on his drink some, thinking to himself about what this dude may possibly want.

“My plan is simple. Three teams will move through the cranial artery, and one through the nasal passage. We are going to the brain, baby! And we are gonna steal us one of these.” Thrax said, soon holding up a chain that had little, glowing beads in it. Oh shit. Enji knew exactly what that was. “Now this little sucker comes from a place called the hypothalamus gland.”

Then, that blue cell spoke up, “The Hypo-Hoppo-what?” Enji sighed, shaking his head as a collective groan took over the room. Thrax looked up in annoyance, clearly not liking how this cell was acting. “Hypothalamus. Hypo-thal-a-mus. Controls the temperature for the entire body. We are gonna march right in there, and we are going to take the prize. Then my man Frank's gonna heat up like a sidewalk on a summer day.”

Enji quickly looked at Alejandro, who returned the look. This guy was going to kill them all.. Thrax then spoke again, “Now all of this is going down tonight, so I want everyone to be prepared.”

The blue cell piped up once more, and Enji knew this was going to get bad, “Tonight? Uh, can't we do it next week? Me and Madcow got tickets to Wrestlemania.”

Thrax growled once more and walked around the table slowly, holding up each bead as he continued to talk, “Ya see this? This here little DNA bead comes from a little girl in Riverside, California. Didn't like to wash her hands. Took me three whole weeks. And this one. Nice lady in Detroit, Motown. Six days flat. Then there's this old guy in Philly. I killed him in seventy-two hours. Yeah.. I'm getting better as I go along, baby, but the problem is- I never set a record. Until my man Frank, that is. I'm gonna take him down in 48 hours. Get my own chapter in the medical books!”

The foxtail virus groaned and he ran his hand over his face. This dude was going to die, he just knew it.. but then, he felt eyes on him, eyes from everyone at the table. Enji looked up. They were expecting him to say something, something against this. None of them wanted to die, and he had spent so long protecting them. He sighed and finally stood up, downing the rest of his drink.

“And just how do you think this is gonna play out? Sure, it’s not difficult to get to the brain and the hypothalamus, but there’s so many other variables you need to think of here. Obviously, the bodies you’ve downed have had careless cells in them, ones that were either ready to go, or too childish to know what was going on.”

Enji walked around the table then, going to a blackboard that was in the room and starting to write on it. Alejandro grinned as he sat in his seat, knowing that Enji was going to school this Thrax guy.

“We have strict security here. The moment that FPD finds out that something is going on up in the hypothalamus, you gotta run fuckin’ quick, or they will be on you faster than a chicken hawk.” Enji started listing out details about the layout of the brain, labeling connections, areas and the suchlike. “And these immunity cells done play. We have survived the measles, chicken pox, you name it.”

“And like I told you the other day, if this is happening tonight, how the hell are you gonna get out?” He asked, looking at Thrax then. The virus looked like he was about to bust. He obviously didn’t like being talked down to, told why his plan might not work here. Enji sighed, “Look, I’m not saying it ain’t a good plan. What I’m saying is your ass is gonna get caught up in this. I have people I have to protect here, I’ve been doing it for years.”

Thrax just crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes a bit, growling a touch before the foxtail continued, “And I told you the other day, Frank lives out in the countryside. He doesn’t take care of himself and his only options for us to run to is Shane and uncle Bob. So either, you need to cut this shit out, or you need to get out of here the moment you can. I’m not going to let you do this.”

The crimson virus just stared at Enji, those eyes glaring daggers. But.. they were dilated. They were heavy in thought, heavy in function. Enji just looked him over for a moment, crossing his arms. Then the whispering started around them, to which Enji looked away to all of the germs talking. No other body had a virus like Enji to take care of them, no one to ensure safety for after the body is gone.

“Listen.. I know what it’s like to have to live out there without a host, to wonder how you’re gonna survive. I’ve been there. I think we all have. Just.. think about it, okay?” He said, his expression softening a bit before he looked at the germs around the table. Most of us have families and other people we gotta worry about. It ain’t always kill or be killed anymore, man.”

Thrax’s eyes widened a bit as he heard Enji speak. He looked around the room at the wary looks on the germs’ faces. Enji was.. unfortunately right. And that pissed him off. He grew up with that ‘kill or be killed’ mentality, it’s not just something he could shake off. His mama was cruel, his dad was never around. And any of his siblings were the same way with him. Except for his older sister.. Aniya was a total saint, and she taught him some of the good things in life. Even protected him from mama a few times..

Enji reminded him of her, trying to steer him out of the way of trouble, out of the way of for-certain death. He frowned, but his expression softened as he looked down.

Then that damn cell piped up one more time, “Uh, excuse me. Excuse me. I got one more question here. Is there anything that, say, a white blood cell could do to stop this evil plan? You know, hypothetically speaking, that is.”

Everyone turned to look at him again, all clearly annoyed that this guy kept running his mouth. It was starting to get really suspicious.. but Enji’s keen ears finally picked up just who that voice belonged to. The question asked pieced the puzzle together for him and his eyes widened.

“Th-there’s nothing. Because it ain’t happening.” Enji said, quickly looking at Alejandro. ‘Get them out of here’, he signed to him, and the mold spore nodded. “Alright, germs. Meeting’s over. Get out.” Alejandro said, standing up and watching as they all started to file out. Thrax just stared, growling a bit before he grabbed the cell as he walked by. Enji’s breath caught in his throat then and he moved.

“You ain’t no damn germ..” the virus growled, shaking him a bit. That’s when Ozzy’s badge fell, and the whole room gasped.

“That ain’t no germ, that’s a cop!” Yelled one of them, to which Enji moved fast. Just as Ozzy was about to be grabbed, he was tackled and they went out the membrane window to the side, falling down and rolling across the dance floor. Ozzy groaned and he sat up, looking at the virus. “Enji, what the hell?! I had ‘im! You asshole-“

“No the fuck you didn’t, you idiot! You almost got yourself killed! Where the fuck is that pill you’ve been runnin’ ‘round with? You gotta get out of here now!” Enji said, soon standing and then pulling Osmosis up to his feet. He started to shove him along, towards the door.

“Enji, cut it out! We gotta stop him! You heard his plan, he’s gonna kill all of us!” Ozzy yelled over the music, but the foxtail virus didn’t listen.

“Ozzy, go home! If you stick around here, this Zit will go up in flames and you will fucking reap the consequences and you know it! The mayor has already been onto you about shit recently!”

Osmosis just growled and looked around, then yelled for DriX to come on and follow him. The pill snapped out of his dancing stupor and followed behind. It was too late though, the germs came running and Enji gasped, his eyes going wide. “Run! Go, go!”

The trio took off running, and he prayed that Alejandro already got out. He hated that this was going to happen, but in order for everyone to be safe, it needed to be done. While Ozzy and DriX ran out, Enji stopped and turned, looking at the germs that were tailing them through the club. Suddenly, black tendrils rose up from the ground and wrapped around their ankles, starting to penetrate their cytoplasm and burn them up from the inside out.

Thrax watched the reaction from the top of the stairs, his eyes widening as he saw the germs start to have cracks open all over them that glowed a bright green. Enji looked pained as he did his thing, like he hated it.

‘That’s right.. he’s been here a long time. These were probably his friends.’ Thrax thought to himself as he watched the germs deteriorate from the inside out, melting into mush on the floor. The tendrils retracted, and Thrax could see how they swirled back up and around Enji’s legs, returning to looking like markings. And the smell.. god it was familiar.

One guy Thrax had been taking down.. he remembered now. The guy had cancer, and they were using a radiation treatment on him. The smell of radiation poisoning, killing cells and cancer clusters alike was something that Thrax could never forget. Enji was.. something else entirely.

He watched as the foxtail turned and walked out of the club then. This was going to be a lot harder than he anticipated..

#oc #osmosis jones #osmosis jones thrax #osmosis jones oc #thrax #enthrax

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jmdbjk · 2 years ago

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White Day, Pt. 1

JK spent the evening of March 14 with us. As most of you know, White Day in South Korea is equivalent to Valentine’s Day in that the gift-giving and whatnot between lovers is switched and the giver becomes the receiver, etc. So at 8:11 (ahem) JK fires up Weverse Live and spends 49 minutes and 38 seconds with us and ends it right at 9:01 (ahem)...the giver that he is... We thank you Jungkookie.

He shares some TMI’s with us... never in a million years did I ever think I would be listening raptly as he tells about having a few zits extracted while at the skin clinic...

And how adorable while he was explaining the sous vide cooking technique. Sous vide is when you cook vacuumed sealed seasoned food, usually meat, in hot water of a certain temperature for several hours. Very time consuming but with delicious results.

I am surprised he had those bottles of whiskey right up in the camera. Weren’t we NOT supposed show or mention brand names during lives? Didn’t we get in trouble for that a while back and we were careful about avoiding that before? Hmmm?

Suntory is expensive Japanese whiskey. So was that Talisker whiskey. Johnnie Walker is the cheap stuff.

And JK affirming that we do indeed only have one life and that life is short. According to Kookie, you must have fun and drink all the whiskey you want while you can...he spent quite a few minutes discussing alcohol because Armys in the comments were crossing that boundary big time when they really need to shut the fuck up and stop preaching and let the man live his life how he wants to. He can’t go out in public, he can’t have a relationship with someone else in public, and now y’all want to make him stop something he thoroughly enjoys while he’s doing it in his own home? Let the man indulge in the simple pleasure of having a drink for god’s sake. He’s going to enlist soon and he won’t even be able to do that when he wants to.

He drifts through a playlist...more of a viber than a real listener. The two songs he did deliberately stop on were There for You by Troye Sivan and Mistletoe by Justin Beiber. He acknowledged that he associates There for You with he and Jimin’s trip to Tokyo. He also sang/hummed along to Mistletoe which is the song he and Jimin sang in Korean and posted it as Christmas Day only on Bangtan TV.

He obviously was trying to get a club vibe on and Armys were being so Mom about it. He was chit-chatting with us like we were all sitting around the table drinking and vibing at the club. I enjoyed our date. The fun police need to get lost.

According to him, it’s too late for him to learn English. I disagree. I am trying to teach myself Korean and I am a few years past the age of 25. It’s never too late. But I do agree that English is a hard language to learn. When you have words like clothes and close... their, they’re, there... you’re, your... see what I mean? But I think his attitude about learning English is just his personality dictating his thought process about it.

He gave us an update on Bam, said he was doing better. He also reassured us that we’d see him and Bam together again later... very often... YAY! He said this after telling us the eye drops he just used on his own eyes were supposed to be for Bam...

JK is a true Belieber too. He admits it.

And then he started being very charming at the end of White Day Live Part 1 when he was trying to speak English and switched to Korean and fumbled words and admitted he can’t speak any language very well...HAHAHAHA such a cutie.

Honestly, he’s got a good start in English, he just needs to practice daily with fluent English speakers who can help him along. He admitted he needs someone who will crack the whip on him and make him study.

Same, same, Kookie. Y’all, that’s his personality through and through. He will live like a rock until he is made to get up off his butt. I love him so much.

The way he speaks to us during these lives is the best thing ever. Like we are his best friends sitting around having a drink.

So he tells us he will be back and leaves when he does because he was watching the clock and he signs off right at 9:01. He might not be a planner but he had a plan for White Day Live Pt. 1 and mission accomplished.

He then proceeded to change clothes and do another live. Then changed clothes again and did another live. Then did a last quick live. 4 parts in one night. And left telling us to look forward to midnight when something amazing would happen: Jimin’s MV teaser.

I will be back with my ramblings on Parts 2, 3 and 4 soon.

#white day with jungkookie #it was sort of like hanging out with friends at the bar #8:11 if you know you know #it seemed to me that it was very pointedly dedicated to Jimin #but that's just me #jungkook #jimin #jikook

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taylorhawkins · 1 year ago

Text

2002 Singles Roundup! (Spin Magazine)

Dave Grohl and Taylor Hawkins break down this year’s radio gaga…

Nelly - Hot In Herre

Dave: You know this song? Nelly?

Taylor: He could have affiliations, we better be careful.

[Spin:] I don't think he has anymore.

Taylor: Anymore. Once you're in you're never out. I've never even heard this song.

Dave: You hang out at the wrong clubs.

[Spin:] Any idea why he's got a Band-Aid on his face?

Dave: Maybe he popped a zit.

The Hives - Hate To Say I Told You So

Dave: I do love the Hives. This kind of has that 'My Sharona' effect on people. It spans all demographics. It's just a totally bare-essentials rock song.

Taylor: The Stooges did it better.

Dave: Elaborate.

Taylor: It just sounds like if the Stooges were way tighter.

Dave: Or maybe if the Kinks didn't fight so much.

Avril Lavigne - Sk8ter Boi

Dave: Is this Bon Jovi? Don’t tell us. Is Pat Benetar back?

Taylor: I'm sorry, I hate high school lyrics like this. It grosses me out to picture some 50-year-old A&R dude in a limo with her, like [puts arm around imaginary girl], "This is gonna be huge, baby. The kids are going to love this." It's like, God! Go right for the fuckin' mallrats!

Dave: Well she's Canadian.

Taylor: She got a nose ring?

Dave: I don’t know, but I bet her navel's pierced.

Taylor: No, she's got a tattoo of a dolphin on her butt.

The Vines - Get Free

Taylor: I think these guys suck. This song is real fuckin' boring.

Dave: Avril Lavigne's song is more challenging than this. If you really want to challenge the listener give them some of that Canadian stuff.

Taylor: This is just, like, buy your angst at the local Kmart.

[Spin:] Dave, does this Nirvana sound bug you at all?

Dave: It doesn't bother me that much.

Christina Aguilera - Dirrty

Taylor: I'd rather discuss the video. The song doesn't even matter!

Dave: It's a serious career shift.

Taylor: Yeah, like when Guns N' Roses went from Welcome To The Jungle to November Rain. I don't know if it's going to work out for her.

Dave: I think it promotes group sex: it promotes lesbianism.

Taylor: She's a little slut! Just kidding.

Justin Timberlake - Like I Love You

Taylor: Ugh! I'm sorry, Mr Timberlake!

Dave: This is Justin? It sounds like Michael Jackson.

Taylor: Are there young boys in the video? Justin tries to dance like Michael Jackson - he even has the hat on.

Dave: Here's the deal with Justin. I'll go rent Breakin' 2 and put on Thriller, and there you go.

Kylie - Can't Get You Out Of My Head

Dave: Killer song! No question! You're getting ready to hit the clubs, put this on. It's got an old nursery-rhyme melody to it - unforgettable.

Taylor: Kylie - I'm proud of her.

Dave: I've got to say I can't stand it when a singer dances - except for Kylie.

Taylor: Freddie Mercury.

Dave: Freddie didn't dance; he pranced.

Taylor: This songs way better than that Christina Aguilera - Aguilerica.

Dave: I've got an idea! Let's start a Christina Aguleria metal cover band - do all her songs but heavy metal, and call it 'Aguilerica'.

Red Hot Chilli Peppers - By The Way

Dave: What's this song about?

[Spin:] It's about a girl he wants to sleep with who's coming to the show.

Dave: Isn't that what all their songs are about?

Taylor: That's what all our songs are about.

Kelly Osbourne - Papa Don't Preach

Dave: I dig it! She's got a good voice, man.

Taylor: I bet that's Dave Navarro playing guitar.

Dave: He definitely sounds pierced.

Taylor: Whoever's playing guitar has his tits pierced, so it's probably Navarro.

Dave: I'm into Kelly Osbourne. She's the snotty punk-rock kid at your high school - but deep down, she's kinda sensitive.

Dirty Vegas - Days Go By

Dave: Is it a car commercial? You could sell a ton of cars with this song. (adopts portentous car commercial voice) Ford Aspire.

Taylor: A new wave in technology.

Dave: The new Ford Probe!

Taylor: Feel the power. Next!

Eminem - Without Me

Dave I love this. Great song, no question.

Taylor: What's so cool about Eminem is the rhythms of his melodies - he's a step ahead of everybody with his flow. As far as I'm concerned, there's him, Snoop and Kool Keith.

Dave: So good! So Hilarious!

Taylor: Awesome. He's no dummy. He's an intelligent motherfucker.

Dave: Even Moby probably likes this song.

Vanessa Carlton - A Thousand Miles

Taylor: What the hell is this shit? Is it someone's piano recital? Who's Vanessa Carlton?

Dave: Some girl who plays piano.

Taylor: It's kind of like the new Bruce Hornsby. Does the Range play with her? Nah, I don't like it.

Dave: Flashdance.

System Of A Down - Toxicity

Dave: Badass sound.

Taylor: I like the fact music like this is...

Dave: ..challenging people.

Taylor: I'd rather listen to early Genesis or early Rush, just because it's more nostalgic, but it's fucking awesome to me that shit like this is popular.

Dave: Agreed.

Shakira - Underneath Your Clothes

Dave: Shakira sounds like she's got a fuckin' booger in her throat that she's got to cough out. She's like sex education in junior high where you see the cartoon diagrams of a penis entering a vagina; it's just caricatures of sex. That's how I see Shakira. Does that make any sense?

Taylor: No, but I say we leave it at that.

SOURCE: fooarchive.com

#they are so funny #spontaneous ford commercial #tldr: taylor hates everyone except for Eminem #I feel #I love him so much #two halves of the same brain tbh #taylor hawkins #dave grohl #foo fighters #2002 #interviews & articles #spin magazine #grohlkins #I was a year old when this came out. lmao

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