#they kiss in this one

[blmpff]

GRAY CURRENT aka GRAY SHELTER official trailer 1 // 2

starring: Lee Jae Bin and Yang Woo Young, premiere: 11.04.24

06.04.24

[crystalgastles]

After the flesh

This is the fourth chapter of my Jeff the killer fanfiction it’s posted on ao3 as well

I had opened the sliding glass door when I saw him running up through my back yard, calling my name loud enough to where I could hear it through the glass. Disheveled hair and shifty eyes that looked red were locked onto mine. When I grabbed his forearms and tried to see if he was injured.

“Woah okay”

I stumbled back a little when he fell onto his knees head buried into my ribs while his hand’s reached around my back, clinging onto my bones in an iron grip. I tried to figure out if he’d gotten a head injury while his shoulders shook, bated shaky breaths warming my clothing and I tried to make out what he was saying.

“Hear me know I exist why aren’t you listening, I have sinned but so has everyone else I need to know you’re there”

I couldn’t figure out if he was talking to me but when I tried to pull away he held on tighter, keeping me stuck in between my kitchen and doorway.

I felt bad, I didn’t know what he’d done or seen to react this way but I didn’t know him, truly. I had just finished putting our Christmas tree up when I heard him calling for me from outside. My cd player was still going quietly when I answered the door to this crying mess of a man.

“Jeff, hey can you come inside and tell me what happened it’s cold out there”

He let go. Not saying anything as he stood up and looked away from me, At the outside and came into the kitchen. The lights from the tree seemed to make him wince.

I struggled with the door and finally got it shut after some push and pull. Staring at the slush that coated the ground of my back patio while the tears that stained my shirt started to become cold. He was looking at me, and I wondered what he had to say next. What brought on this confession to me as if I were a priest.

“What happened?”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. What happened quit dodging my questions with half assed answers”

“I burnt down a manger”

“Why did you burn down a manger”

“Cause I felt like it. Is that a good enough answer for you, mom”

He said that last part with a sharp incline, this is fucking bullshit. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for his presence and I didn’t ask to be treated like a nuisance in my own home with someone I barely knew.

“No. No! You don’t get to talk to me like that while you’re standing in my kitchen. I let you in. Tell me what happened or you can get out.”

“I already told you.”

“Ok then leave”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me”

“Obviously, I don’t know anything about you. I’ve seen you twice”

“I don’t like Christmas”

“A lot of people don’t, they don’t kill people though. Or burn down Christmas decorations”

He sighed, rubbing his hands on the sides of his temples while I crossed my arms. Waiting for a more appropriate explanation to this sudden outburst, and why he came to me.

“Do you have alcohol”

“I have half a four loko in the fridge”

I sat on my couch while he stood in the kitchen, grimacing when he downed a week old party drink only teenagers and broke college students enjoyed. I rested my chin on my open palm to keep my eye on him from the living room.

“My daddy was a preacher. I was the oldest son of two boys and I was expected to also follow in line of the rest of the men in my family of becoming one too”

“Yeah?”

“1988, I was seven years old. I had night terrors and I’d sleep walk. Parents thought I was possessed , had me exercised three times until I just didn’t sleepwalk anymore. We weren’t even catholic.”

I didn’t say anything when he moved into the living room in front of me. Sitting on the ground cross legged he rubbed circles on his knees with his palms.

“When I was 14 I refused to get baptized. The last time they made me go to church I broke everything of value in the living room.”

He laughed quietly to himself before he continued. I bit the inside of my cheek, playing with a loose thread on the couch as I listened.

“You uncomfortable?”

“No, it’s ok really I asked you to tell me why”

“Ok. I refused to get baptized so four grown men, men I grew up with held me down and threw me into the baptism pool.”

I bit the side of my thumb. I couldn’t tell if he was telling the truth or if this was a sob story to get me to trust him. But the way he fidgeted with his hands told me this was something he was recalling.

“One of them was my best friends dad. She was gone then. He’d sent her to some sort of camp for troubled teens. He found out that she had a girlfriend, and that I was also hiding that fact from him.”

“Yeah?“ I didn’t know what to say because ‘I’m sorry’ didn’t seem to be enough or the right words For what he was telling me.

“I moved out at 17, lived on my own for a few months until ,parents reported me missing. I came back a few months before my eighteenth”

I watched him down the rest of the alcohol, his eyes trained on my Christmas tree to think of what to say next. I stared at my feet, his hands, my hands

“My birthday is on Christmas. The day I turned 18 I was forced to go to a service, got into a fight with my dad after dinner. And I killed them. My mother first. With A gun I got from a friend, tried and failed to kill my brother next I stabbed him once and couldn’t finish the job. My father was last. And the longest. I couldn’t recreate all of pain and suffering he inflicted onto me for my entire childhood but, I sure did make him feel afraid.”

“I” I still didn’t know what to say. The words wouldn’t spill from my lips as I tried to wrap my head around what I had been told, my own family issues seemed so minuscule in this moment that I contemplated calling my mom. Tell her I love her.

“My friend, Jane. I trusted her with anything I had. She was smart and put together, stubborn and almost always right, I was angry and a mess. I burned her house to the ground. I ran into that fire to find her but stayed because it had turned into hell. And that’s where I belonged. She wasn’t even in there. She snuck out to her girlfriends. I only came out when I heard her screaming. I haven’t seen her since”

“You have a thing with fire”

“Yeah”

I didn’t say anything else. I didn’t know what to say, so I just moved to the floor and sat beside him with my head on his shoulder. I contemplated telling my own stories but I didn’t want to. I don’t think I could even make the words come out of my mouth even if I wanted to. I knew what I did and I knew there was nothing i could do to fix it. No matter how much I begged and pleaded for anyone to just talk to me. My god was my father. And I hade none. All I had now was him to keep me company and I wasn’t going to complain.

“Do you want to go to my room, I don’t know how the Christmas tree is making you feel”

“No, it’s fine”

He let me rest my head on him, his breathing had slowed and my shirt had dried. His hand rested on my knee while I stared off into the Christmas lights.

“I want to go to my room anyway, if you want you can follow me. The heat doesn’t work as well out here”

“If you insist.”

I picked up my computer off of my bedside table, I usually checked my emails at this time of night but he hadn’t seen a computer in a while so he was busy pressing buttons and looking up dumb websites with my browser.

“Please be careful you’re gonna give me a virus”

“A man can’t use the internet”

“No you just can’t click on every pop up ad you see”

“Ok then I don’t want to use the internet anymore”

I rolled my eyes and shut my computer, crossing my arms and looking down at him from my sitting position I watched him sit up and pull off the hoodie he had on. A different one from the one I gave him. I wondered where he got that one from but shook the thought from my head. His arms were pale, I could see blue veins peaking out from almost white skin a deep contrast from the black of the t shirt he wore underneath.

“You stare a lot”

“Hm.”

“I stare too, you just don’t catch me”

“That’s creepy”

“Sure. I know”

I kept looking while he looked at me, the inside of my cheek almost being bitten off while my heart threatened to burst out of my chest.

The way he sat up to take off his hoodie positioned him directly above my head. My cheeks burned and the tips of my fingers tingled when I laced my fingers through his hair, bringing his face closer to mine. His surprised hum when I kissed him made me hold onto his hair into a tighter grip. His hand moved to right above my elbow the other behind my neck.

I pulled away for a minute to breathe. My face stung and I moved to sit on the middle of his thighs. I needed to respond. The Last words needed to be mine.

“Fuck you”

[zelkams-art]

in all timelines in all possibilities only you can show me this

[s-aint-elmo]

pass it on!

(ID in alt text)

[swan2swan]

Whoever conceived and animated this moment, I hope they're doing well and thriving. This is S-rank romance stuff here.

[cholvoq]

“in all timelines, in all possibilities, only you…can show me this.”

[oolong---latte]

[xamitras]

For many of years I had this tradition of drawing Wirt and the beast once a year to see how much I have improved, then depression hit in 2023 and couldn't continue, but it left so really amazing art in the process

[aldecaver]

Just their usual Monday

[stump-not-found]

i don't think the theraprism is a good thing, guys

[charlie-artlie]

I liked this part :]

[demaparbat-hp]

He truly did.

[ink-the-artist]

Bon Voyage

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[incredubious]

MODERN AU ACESAN !!!! first impressions with a guy who barely passes the No Shoes No Shirt No Service rule

[wishfulsketching]

This happened