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justjessame · 4 years

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A Little Ass and A Lotta Sass Chapter 10: Mornings.. Why? Why? And WHY am I on the fucking floor again?

I wish I could say that waking up with Negan made me more of a morning person. I would say it, but then I’d be a fucking liar. I’m sure there are questions about why waking up with a certified sex master didn’t improve my lack of appreciation for mornings, and I’m gonna answer it simply.

I didn’t wake up with Negan. I woke up on the fucking floor. A floor, I might add, that I woke up on because he actually tossed me onto it, and proceeded to curl up on the couch, alone and snore right in my fucking direction. Yeah, that’s all rainbows and butterflies, isn’t it. Fucking bed hog. And the snores, my God the snores. And the smug dream face that graced him, all because he had the entire, comfortable couch to himself.

I’d like to say that I centered my anger and took a breath. I’d like to say that I was distracted when he smiled in his sleep, through sounds like a cross between a sputtering motor and a chainsaw, and those fucking dimples appeared. I’d like to say that I stood up dignified, brushed the entire ordeal off, and went and did something productive like starting our breakfast.

I won’t say any of the above. I’m not a fucking liar. I own the fact that I hate mornings like Garfield hates Mondays (yes, I remember comics and cartoons, the apocalypse didn’t remove my memory bank). I own the fact that when confronted with something asinine upon waking so abruptly in the glare of sunshine that offends my very marrow I will torch the culprit for that waking without a moment’s hesitation. And I am fucking proud of the fact that falling in love with Negan didn’t stop me from going for his fucking head when he did it to me, on the first fucking morning of the rest of our relationship.

I slapped him. Hard. Right in the back of his head, which I could reach because he was curled up like a sleeping baby. And let me tell you, not only was it satisfying, but it woke his ass up just as fast as I had been.

“What the literal hell?” He growled, coming to consciousness immediately. I felt pretty fucking smug that Lucille had been moved out of reach by my tossed ass, so he couldn’t grab it. And trust me, the first instinct for Negan was to reach for the damn bat. “Callie, why the fuck did you just hit me?” He was trying to get into seated position, but our couch was fucking comfortable and given half a chance would eat unsuspecting guests. Oops, for him, I suppose. “And why the FUCK can’t I get up from this fucking couch?”

I laughed. Fuck rules, and clearly this was NOT a RULE 1 situation. I reached out my hands, and after a moment’s consideration, he took them. Helping him into a more dignified arrangement, I let him in on my irritation. “You fucking tossed me like a football onto the HARD floor, you asshole.” I tried to glare, but seeing his reaction to his own alarm clock, I was starting to find humor in the world again. “And then you rolled over and fucking snored and grinned in your sleep. You, Negan, are a fucking bed hog.” I sat down on his lap when he leaned back against the couch cushions. “I hate mornings,” I glared at the sun streaming through the windows. “But I REALLY hate meeting the floor so hard and so unexpectedly. IN THE MORNING. That I hate.”

He was mostly over his own unscheduled wake up call. Mostly, although I was fairly certain I’d be paying for it soon. “I don’t snore.” Kissing my cheek, he nuzzled against my neck. “For future reference, when we get home, I can hog the bed as much as I want and you won’t hit the fucking floor. I have a HUGE fucking bed, princess.” His voice was a different kind of growl and I could feel how truly ready he was for that bed. And me. “When can we leave?”

I shook my head at him. Seriously? We JUST woke up and he was go go go. I was still, why do mornings have to be a thing? Like the world is a shit show, why can’t the day start in the afternoon?

I leaned against his chest. “I have to pack and I do have to say goodbye, Negan.” I felt a grin like the Grinch wore before he stole Christmas. “Although, I can make it worthwhile to you, at least for a bit.”

His hands gripped my waist a little harder and my smile grew wider. “What do you have in mind, baby girl?”

I let my lips find the soft skin of his earlobe and whispered one word. “Shower.”

I swear that word had barely passed my lips and I was over his damn shoulder and up the stairs we went. I didn’t feel him pick up the other woman in his life, but when he sat me down outside the bathroom I shared with my brother, I noticed her in his other hand. I didn’t roll my eyes, but it was a close one. Holding a finger to my lips, I had him follow me into my bedroom, which needed a name change what without the fucking bed and all. I grabbed a set of clothes and turned around.

Negan’s face was focused on the blankets on the floor that I’d been forced to use due to his pettiness during the first visit. He was glaring at the blankets like they offended him and I nearly warned him against stealing those too. Nearly, because he shocked the ever loving shit out of me.

“Fuck, I have to tell Dwight that a run for mattresses and beds needs done NOW.” He looked up and noticed me watching him. “Callie, I can be pretty fucking brutal, but this might have been a step too far. Gonna right it, I swear.” My eyes went wide. Negan was going to replace my community's beds. For me. Well, shit.

I stepped over the covers and let him pull me into his arms. “You thought you had to, and I am TRYING to understand your methods and reasons. Trying to, but I’m not completely there.” My cheek had found his heartbeat like it was a magnetic pull. “Let’s go shower, so I can’t at least get rid of my CURRENT bruises, from the fucking living room floor.”

I felt his chuckle through my face. “Is this how you’re going to try to fix anything that pisses me off, Callie?” He asked, his arms wrapped around me and his chin on my head. “Because, I have to admit, it’s pretty fucking effective.”

I giggled and pulled away. “I haven’t even gotten to the good stuff, Negan. Shit, you’re pretty fucking simple to distract.” Winking, I rushed from the room before he could take a swipe at my ass with either his hand, or Lucille.

The shower. Dear Fucking Hell, the shower. While our water could get warm and pretty luxurious, I am more than certain that the steam in the bathroom had little to do with water temperature. Maybe, just maybe, getting into a relationship with Satan’s offspring had some fucking perks. Perk one: sexual appetite that more than held steady with my own. Perk two: appreciation for my abundance of sentence enhancers (it’s what ladies call the word “fuck” and other words that make the mundanes blush). Perk three: I’ll never freeze to death near this man. Seriously. HOT. And not just his fucking looks.

We dried off, or hell, I don’t know maybe his real daddy just blew the dry heat from hell over us and we were suddenly dry, it’s a blur. And then we dressed. He was whistling and carrying Lucille in one hand while holding my hand with the other. I was just considering whether we could eat first, then pack my shit, when I was saved from making the decision by him pulling me back into my room. Packing it was.

It didn’t take long. The only thing that I took the time to actually add to my wardrobe was a chain that I hadn’t worn since we arrived in Alexandria and had a proper home, with proper places for our stuff. The chain was simple, but what it held was extremely important to me. My mother’s wedding rings. She’d given them to me before Judith’s birth and her death, and she’d told me that if anything happened to her she expected me to keep them and wear them when I found the person I looked at like she once looked at Dad.

I hadn’t noticed him watching me, but when everything was packed (a duffel bag full, I’m such a pack-rat at the world’s end, I tell you), I saw his eyes on the rings resting just above my cleavage. His hand reached out, and I stood still. When his fingers brushed the rings, he raised his head with an eyebrow raised.

“They were Mom’s.” I answered, diverting my attention to the bag. I zipped it up and went to toss it over my shoulder, but he stopped me. Taking it from my hands and putting it over his own.

We went downstairs, but I couldn’t quite figure out what the look was that I saw on his face when he was staring at those rings.

Goodbyes are hard. Especially when the dead walk around and bite people. Luckily, my goodbye was hard simply because I was leaving my family behind for something I hoped was better. You know, instead of biting a bullet before I bit someone.

Carl hugged me and whispered that all I had to do was send him a sign of some sort that I didn’t want this, or that I wanted out later, and he’d find a way to get me home. I shivered internally at the mere thought of my baby brother trying to take on Negan for my honor, or worse that he’d hurt him. Losing either of them would kill me, but losing either of them at the hand of the other would break me into a thousand pieces and in ripping me apart, death would be a blessing.

Michonne was trying desperately not to shoot looks at my still very flat abdomen while we said goodbye. Dear Lord, between her and Negan, I was going to go insane at the mere thought of babies. I hugged her and smiled at the strength I always felt in her arms. Warrior woman, surrogate step-mother, and badass human being. I felt confident she would keep my family safe and loved in my absence.

Judith, of course, didn’t understand. But hugging her baby scented person to me, I felt a tug in my heart that I’d never really felt before. I’d miss her, miss all of the care that I took in taking care of her, and yet, I wondered what it would feel like to start from scratch with my very own baby. Kissing her soft curls, I told her that I’d see her soon.

Saying goodbye, or see you later, to Dad was the hardest. I’d been the first child he held immediately after birth. He once told me that he never thought he could love anything more than he loved my mom, but when he held me he knew he was wrong. Holding him and saying goodbye, I felt him trying so desperately to remind me of that love. Tears burned my eyes, but I didn’t want him or any of them to imagine that I wasn’t happy with my choice so I forced them to stay at bay. This would have been inevitable in the old world. Me leaving home to be with the man I loved, that would have been expected at some point in my adulthood. Here, in this reality, it was a little bit different. The entire experience was shifted, but I wanted him to understand that regardless of how it happened, it did, and I was happy about it.

“This isn’t just for Alexandria, Dad.” I whispered in his neck. I felt him nod, and went on. “I fell in love with him, somehow or someway, and I would have probably ended up here at some point. This way, this way no one suffers because of it. This way it actually helps.” I pulled away and he kissed my forehead. “I love you, Daddy.”

“Love you too, my little girl.” Dad’s rough fingers brushed an errant tear from the corner of my eye. “And as much as I may not LOVE the fact that he’s your choice, I trust you to do what’s right. For you, not for us.”

I grinned, hugging him again. “I am. I promise.”

Negan, showing himself to be a benevolent former leader (look to be honest, I didn’t really learn what the full extent of Dad and Negan’s deal with my arranged relationship treaty entailed, so sue me), decided to address the community and let them know that I’d be sacrificing myself for their comfort. I nearly burst out laughing at him making it seem like I was being sold off to him for their peace and sanity. Jesus, the man has a God complex that would make God Himself blush. After assuring them I’d have regular visits to prove my safety and well-being (starting to feel like a fucking hostage, dumb ass), we finally (Thank GOD, no more speeches, please) got in the vehicle caravan and started off to my new life.

Negan and I rode in a truck alone. We were flanked front and back by his Savior Secret Service. The SSS, shit one extra letter than the SS. Seriously, I wished that the internet was still accessible, because I had MANY questions that might be answered on Ancestry.com about the man driving me home. Pretty sure that his family tree was twisted and had some pretty fucking dangerous terrors dangling from the limbs. Then again, if you do a genealogical search, is Satan’s DNA even available for testing? And what books could be used to trace that lineage?

I let my mind wander at first, clearly on the man beside me and what was to come. Would I really love being with him so much that I wouldn’t miss my family like a missing limb? Would I regret my decision? Would he?

#negan x ofc #the walking dead #Smut

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ducktracy · 5 years

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158. porky’s romance (1937)

release date: april 3rd, 1937

series: looney tunes

director: frank tashlin

starring: joe dougherty (porky), berneice hansell (petunia, babies), mel blanc (excited petunia), billy bletcher (time munches on narrator)

i’ve been looking forward to reviewing this since the day i first typed my review for bosko, the talk-ink kid. so you’ll have to excuse me for rambling on more than normal, i’m really passionate about this cartoon. there’s so much to say!

first off, this cartoon means a lot to me. it’s the first one i checked out on my own accord. i caught wind of who carl stalling was and wanted to listen to a piece of his music to familiarize myself. i saw his depression era compilation of music, and included was the opening number for this cartoon, which absolutely blew me away. i looked up the cartoon and watched it and instantly fell in love. porky was fat! porky has a different voice actor! porky was INTERESTING! porky was killing himself! i had never seen anything like it, so it holds a special place in my heart. i had a vague idea of some directors, like bob clampett and chuck jones, but had no idea who the hell this “frank tash” guy was. but after watching it, i knew i’d love him. and i do!

secondly, this is joe dougherty’s final appearance. while mel is undoubtedly the better porky, i’ve really come to appreciate joe. he gets a hard time because he had a real stutter, and one of the repeated criticisms i see is that it sounds too overdone. true as that may be, he couldn’t help it, and i applaud him for working as long as he did. i mean, a little over 2 years, that’s a decent amount of time! and he does have talent. we’ve seen and heard much worse. so i’m a little sad to see him go, but excited at the same time knowing wonderful things are ahead. i love this particular era in looney tunes history, the porky’s romance to, say, porky’s badtime story era. there’s this sense of newness and freshness—new voices, new characters, new directors. you feel the change happening before your very eyes. it’s all so exciting!

i’ve rambled enough, and i’m certainly going to ramble much more, so buckle up! after petunia pig rejects porky’s marriage proposal, porky seeks a noose for comfort. when the suicide attempt goes wrong, he’s then launched into a dream sequence about their potential marriage life... and realizes marriage isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

this cartoon has a unique opening to it. before the title card itself, we are presented with “leon schlesinger’s new looney tunes star: petunia pig!” curtains draw to reveal petunia positioned in front of a microphone. yes, this is petunia’s first appearance! she has quite an interesting history. she appears only in 3 frank tashlin cartoons, where she was depicted as a sultry, sexy foil for the bumbling, not very sexy porky. bob clampett would adopt her in 1939 and make her to be much cuter, giving her hair and a much more naïve demeanor. she hardly has any cartoons at all, yet somehow managed to live on through the dell looney tunes comics and in future looney iterations.

petunia greets her audience warmly, opening with “my public! i hope you pictured my liking--i mean, i hope you lictured my picking... i mean... i--” overcome by nerves, petunia struggles to read the script in front of her and greet the audience. this little bit was inspired by the short lived 1936-1937 radio program community sings. the offscreen announcer attempts to calm her down. “shhh, petunia. don’t get excited, don’t get excited...” petunia’s furious outburst (vocals by mel blanc, of course) of “EXCITED!? WHO’S EXCITED?? I’M NOT EXCITED!!!” comes from comedian professor tommy mack, who would do the same slow routine and then the explosion with the “WHO’S EXCITED?” line. tashlin’s the woods are full of cuckoos is an entire tribute to community sing.

the curtains close on petunia, and then we’re actually greeted with the title card. an absolutely stellar rendition of “i wanna woo” underscores the title and the opening scene. a happy porky whistles along to the music as we have a montage of him buying necessities for petunia. a diamond ring, some roses, some chocolates. what a good guy! i love the visuals in this cartoon. everything is so sleek and modern--it’s evident tashlin was enamored with the art deco style. and that song again is just beautiful--it’s why i investigated this cartoon in the first place!

porky finishes his routine as he approaches petunia’s house, dancing up and down the stairs before ringing the doorbell. i love that face of his as he poses by the doorbell, throwing his bouquet in the air and catching them in his hand. he’s awfully full of himself.

inside, petunia approaches the door, her brat of a dog fluffnums by her side. for some reason, fluffnums was attempted to be pushed as a reoccurring character, with model sheets and drawings of him surfacing around the studio, i guess for publicity, but he only appeared in this cartoon. same goes for the iceman in i only have eyes for you (his name is sammy sparrow?) and the parrot in i wanna be a sailor. petunia opens the top portion of her door to see her visitor, and we see cocky old porky posing with his hat hilariously tipped on his face. petunia, for whatever, isn’t very pleased, turning her nose and marching away, stomping her foot. “porky pig! pooh-pooh!” in the same rhythm, the dog barks the same amount of syllables, stomping its little paw. warm welcome.

a lovely, downtrodden chorus scores porky as he trudges away tearfully, wilting, pausing only to kiss petunia’s nameplate on her house. suddenly, fluffnums looks out the window and barks for petunia. “what is it, fluffnums?” then, petunia spots the box of chocolates porky carries along behind his back. we then get this BEHEMOTH of a scene that displays how tasteful of a director frank tashlin is: 6.5 seconds, 157 frames, 10 cuts. petunia rushes out of her house at the speed of light and urges porky back inside her home. the scene has CLARITY--you can understand what’s happening, unlike the rapid cutting in porky in the north woods. this scene is genius. petunia throws a dazed porky on her couch while she gorges herself on the chocolates, cooing about how glad she is to see him.

mark kausler identifies the animator as volney white (though the thick eyebrows make me think of bob bentley. mark’s a wonderful source of information i gladly accept everything he says, because he’s right 99.9% of the time) for the scene where porky tries to reach for a chocolate himself. fluffnums, ever the threatening guard dog, growls. we have a great back and forth scene as porky sheepishly pets the dog on the head, reaching for a chocolate and still getting growled at. the charade continues until porky finally snatches one, sticking his tongue out in childish defiance at the dog. as porky lifts up his trophy, winking towards the audience at his act of outsmarting, the dog jumps up and eats the chocolate himself, breaking a hole in porky’s boater hat in the process. (no dogs were harmed in the making of this cartoon!)

seeing as this is joe dougherty’s last cartoon, he doesn’t speak very much at all. in this scene, the animators had porky facing AWAY from the audience so they wouldn’t have to animate his lip movements. it was pretty clear that everyone was tired of working for dougherty. instead, porky’s body jitters as he speaks. they used a technique called staggered exposure, which was mixing up a sequence of drawings to get that jittery effect (so instead of going in a sequence of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, and so forth, it would be more like 1, 3, 5, 7, 9, and so on.) “why petunia, i want you... you.. you to.. be in love.. that is.. um.. will you.. uh... er, uh.. may i.. that is... won’t you... will you... aw, shucks. will you marry me?”

just as porky finally manages to spit out his confession, disaster strikes. petunia’s bastard of a dog pulls the carpet out from under porky, sending him flipping and falling in the air. because of this, petunia ridicules and laughs at him. porky is now absolutely devastated, leaving petunia’s house for good. i love the detail of his ears and bow tie wilting. carl stalling’s music is on point in this cartoon: an underscore of “the little things you used to do” backs up the scene here. that song was sung at the end of the coo-coo nut grove, where the entire nightclub was flooded in tears.

the next scene is strikingly somber and surprised me greatly the first time i watched it. we iris in on porky writing a suicide note, a noose tied around his neck, tied to a tree branch. the note simply reads “dear petunia, i love you. goodbye forever -- porky” the camera panning out is a little janky and rough, but i digress. porky wipes away his tears, pulling a photo of petunia from his pocket and giving it a kiss. with that, porky jumps.

because of his weight, the suicide attempt fails as the tree branch breaks, porky toppling to the ground and hitting his head. thus launches a dream sequence as his surroundings spin around (by unscrewing the lens of the camera, screwing it (counter)clockwise in front of the aperture), melting away to the exterior of a church. wedding bells chime victoriously. inside, petunia and porky give their vows. porky struggles, stuttering “i d-d-d.... i-d..d-” the officiator whistles (a dougherty era running gag), and porky spits out his final “do.”

more volney white animation as the lovebirds exit the church, waving to the crowd that surrounds them. and, of course, fluffnums is there too, begrudgingly carrying petunia’s veil in its mouth. we cut to porky and petunia happily riding in their car, a victorious JUST MARRIED banner waving in the wind, with shoes attached to strings on the bumper marching along in time to “in my merry oldsmobile”. porky’s license plate reads BOOB -- a good indicator of how frank tashlin felt about porky.

a lovely overhead layout of the honeymoon hotel porky and petunia stay at (with, of course, an underscore of “honeymoon hotel”, which was also the title of a 1934 earl duvall merrie melody). the elevator rises to the top floor in syncopation with the music. a nice silhouette shot of porky and petunia, and rather suggestive at that. they kiss, and the last we see before a fade out is porky turning off the light in the apartment.

billy bletcher voices the narrator as a triumphant fanfare blares. “TIME... MUNCHES ON!” rather disconcerting eating noises, and then we open to a very rotund petunia and fluffnums gorging themselves on chocolate. not the most flattering depiction of a woman, but the ironic “laughing” of the clarinets and horns playing “oh, you beautiful doll!” is a wonderful touch. i love when the scores themselves serve as jokes.

pan across the apartment, the score melting into another rendition of “i wanna woo” as we see poor porky hard at work. i adore the layout of this entire scene. porky busies himself with all the odd jobs petunia has (presumably) thrown onto him, washing the clothes, ironing a dress, cooking the food, washing the dishes. he unsuccessfully attempts to balance the chaos, trying not to kill himself in the process. pay attention to how the furniture is arranged. the stove, the sink, even the ironing board, they’re all slightly diagonal and at an angle. practical? absolutely not, no one has their furniture arranged like that, just jutting out. but in animation terms, it’s more than practical. it’s so that you can see the details clearly, so that you can see every little thing happening. the clarity of the scene would be muddied if the furniture was arranged the way it should be--you may miss details like the pan burning on the stove or the looming pile of dishes. this is some super smart staging, and the architecture is just beautiful within itself. porky struggles to keep up with the demands, but fails, burning food, clothes, etc. you’ll notice that when he fails to balance a pile of dishes, the china crashing into him as he flops down on the floor, whatever he’s cooking in the pot boils over as well. everything just explodes at once.

meet porky pig jr, porky pig jr, porky pig jr, porky pig jr, porky pig jr, porky pig jr, porky pig jr, porky pig jr, and so on. all of the babies start screaming at the noise (bob bentley animation), and petunia puts in her two cents by yelling “porky pig! shut those kids up!” porky rocks one of the cradles back and forth, reassuring her “i’m doing the best i can, petunia dear.” petunia marches forth, wielding a rolling pin as she retorts “don’t dear me, you WORM!” with that, she beats porky relentlessly over the head with the rolling pin, all of the kids shouting “GIVE IT TO HIM, MAMA! GIVE IT TO HIM!” which is another radio show catchphrase of some sort.

finally, we’re met with reality. porky sits in a daze on the ground, petunia stroking his cheek with fluffnums at porky’s other side. petunia puts on her best sympathy act, cooing “oh porky, i’m so so-ree! you’re my honey man. i’ll marry you, darling, honey bunny boo...” while petunia showers porky in all sorts of pet names, he looks up at his suicide note, remembering his dream where petunia was an abusive slob. they had trouble with the camera movements again--when they came out of the dissolve, the camera was in the wrong position slightly, creating a double image.

this is one of my favorite endings to any looney tunes short. a terrified porky jumps up at zips away into the horizon (with that great electric guitar zoom/twang sound effect i love so much), petunia shrugging and fluffnums making a ! mark appear over his head. suddenly, porky retreats, snagging his chocolates from petunia and running for the hills. a beat... and he returns once more, only to give fluffnums a well deserved swift kick in the ass. the music score in this scene is just lovely, nice and jazzy. the timing is succinct, and i love the guitar zoom sound effect. iris out.

as you can see, i love this short, a lot. while i love the blow out, i think this is my first true favorite that we’ve seen so far. it’s so dark, and i don’t even like dark stuff! it just feels so different. carl stalling is in tip top shape with his music scores. every single piece is lovely, especially that beginning. the animation is fun, the expressions are great. i wish i could articulate my thoughts better, because i really just love this cartoon a lot. i’m super happy it was one of the first i had seen, because i probably wouldn’t be typing these reviews had i not. frank tashlin’s cinematography is STRONG in this one. the camera cuts, the angles... this is a beautiful cartoon, inside and out. i feel bad that it’s joe dougherty’s last appearance, but understand at the same time. great things are ahead, revolutionary things! i’ve warmed up to joe quite a lot. i’ve found nothing in terms of what he did after his tenure as porky--wikipedia (not reliable, i know) states that he attended medical school before becoming a voice actor, so good on him! anyway, i absolutely love this cartoon and have seen it multiple, multiple, multiple, MULTIPLE times. it’s strikingly different in tone than what we’ve seen and what we WILL be seeing. it’s not just your everyday frank tashlin porky cartoon. this one stands out, and i implore you to watch it.

link!

#lt #porky’s romance #reviews #looney tunes #tashlin #long post

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eureka-its-zico · 5 years

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Pricked Pt. 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Scenario: You and Mino have been together since you were eighteen years old. You’ve been through so much together, but time changed who you both were, what you both wanted and, ultimately, it ended. It ended once, twice, and a million times after. Each time fate somehow bringing you back to one another; but how cruel could fate really be? For with every time you crashed back into one another, you felt pieces’ fray and rip at the seams; pricked by love thrones that never healed.

A/N: Okay.Admit it. How many of you thought this would never get finished? It’s finally happened. I finished Pricked. Over time, I received countless private messages and anonymous asks about finishing this. I’m sorry it took over two years for me to get back into writing. I’m sorry it took so long, you guys. But, my sincerest hope is that after reading this, it all feels worth it. I appreciate the countless support for my fiction. For the continous shares and likes while I’ve been away. You all helped remind me why I started writing in the first place: for the love of telling a story. I hope you love this one. Much Love, Jenn.

Genre: Mino x Reader

Words: 5850

Disclaimer: As always, any gifs that are used are not mine and all credit is given to their rightful owners.

It was almost comical how a room that felt so big became hauntingly small. The echoes of his last words etching themselves in your bones until they ached where you sat. Immobile, like a frightened child that hears the creaking sounds of old stairs; threatening to make your heart leap at the thought of old monsters.

Mino couldn’t have meant it. Just like you knew, without a doubt, you were only pretending to be self-righteous. To care about an unnamed woman who should’ve never taken your place to begin with: a poor man’s replacement. A replacement you yourself tried to make of him. The whole reason you showed up here, now, was to force him to choose you. Or else what had been the whole point of the large affair you’d created, if it wasn’t to lead to an end that favored you both.

But this was where your self-righteousness ended.

In the distance your ears could hear the shower running. You knew Mino was undoubtedly undressed on the other side of the door. His last words a farewell forever: a painful dismissal.

How could you blame him? When your lips failed to move and voice refused to work. Because that self-righteousness flared back up and made you believe you could do the right thing.

What was right?

What could be right about losing him, and spending the rest of your life with the maybe’s and what if’s. All you needed to say was what you’d wanted, and allowed, the selfishness that rained over the past year to win. Because honestly, why did you decide now of all times to act so holy? You wanted to do the right thing, regardless of it being too little too late. To believe that self-sacrifice, being a martyr, would be enough to forgive yourself for choosing to hurt so many.

But you were done falling on swords. Done playing games. If you didn’t tell him now, right the fuck now, that you couldn’t live with the idea of him waking up besides the wrong woman every morning, not you, some stranger who only saw what she wanted, knew nothing about how he used to hide his favorite snacks under pillows during his first year of training, and bleached his hair so badly it left his head raw for days. How he ruined so many school shirts with stains of ink from broken pens that drove his mother into an annoyed rant. She knew nothing of his past. What made him. She only knew what he chose to show her like a carefully wrapped present. But you - you knew all. Past and present. You wanted to know who he became in the future. To see the version of yourself he talked about with confidence reflecting in his eyes.

You knew, deep down, underneath the claustrophobic hands of fear, that you could be better for each other. There would be no more running. No more imaginative ‘What If’s’, to keep you at bay.

You weren’t surprised to find your feet already guiding you towards the door of the bathroom. Your heart already knew where it was trying to go: it had just been waiting for your mind to catch up. And somehow, after all that mental pep talk, you still found your hand hovering above the knob.

“No more caving,” you whispered. “I’m doing this.”

Without another moment spared to thought your hand closed around the knob and turned.Whether you were conscious of it or not, you were holding your breath. As if you would find something other than Mino’s naked body on the other side.

Immediately, your body was engulfed by a hot breath of steam. The mirror fogged up to hide your reflection, and condensation dripped from every surface. If the shower wasn’t strategically placed in the middle you were sure you could’ve gotten lost in the large high-end expanse of the bathroom. The showers glass enclosure covered a majority of the room and offered no privacy. Your eyes able to roam over every available inch of flesh that it left exposed, and you drank in the sight of Mino greedily.

Even slumped with his hands splayed out against the patterned granite - body being drenched every second in a heavy flow of water - Mino was still able to command the room. Although, you knew by the heavy sigh between his shoulders that he was a man in mourning. A dull ache wormed its way inside your chest and threatened to bloom, but a memory batted it away.

It was the beginning of spring; months after you’d begun your secret affair. Both of you pretending it was just something simple as convenience. A past history of being first loves and promises of fairy tale ever-afters allowing you the false ideal it would be over once either of you had your fill.

You could see now, caressed in a fog of steam, what a lie it was.

That day the humidity had been worse than the heat. It ended up like that a lot during the peaking days of summer. The two of you finding solace in the new studio Mino rented out; a private, safe place for his artistic ideas to flourish and die in a privacy only he knew.

He’d rung you to come by. Mino’s voice tempting your body already with the sweetness of kisses and a promise of that honeyed voice that was held between those lips kissing its way between your thighs. You didn’t need much prodding after that. Your fingers already on an app to hail the nearest driver.

You’d arrived minutes before he’d asked, and found him surrounded by splattered canvases. A majority of them thrown to the ground, like an island of misfits. Mino was already working on a newer canvas, but the frustration radiated off of him and hit you in waves. You could see it in the way his teeth dug themselves into the wood of his brush, and the large strokes of his fingers, covered in paint, across the canvas. You could’ve sworn you could hear the brush beginning to snap under the pressure.

Mino had always been this way. His drive for perfection charging his artistic nature, usually with him being completely unaware. He was in such a trance focusing on his work that he hadn’t paid any kind of acknowledgment to your entry. All Mino could see was the canvas before him and the irritating fact it wasn’t coming out like he’d wanted.

You were more than ninety-nine percent sure if this had been anyone else, you would’ve been annoyed at not being acknowledged. But here in his artistic heaven you were just fine being ignored. It left you plenty of time to gawk at the mosaic piece that covered an enormous section of a wall. The bright pieces coming into the colorful shape of a cartoon man holding a wilting flower. The petals somehow becoming larger until they landed on the ground at his feet. The back wall displaying a dozen or so paintings. The theme of them all painstakingly the same.

In one various arrays of color, he had the facial outlines of a man and a woman. You could only assume by the way the woman’s face was comforted and the way the lips of the man drew near to caress her lips, that it was a painting with the image of intimacy in mind. That feeling of intimacy causing your cheeks to flush and a yearning to be touched. Another showcased a couple outlined in white against the charcoal of the canvas. There were stars small as speckled dust that told you he’d brushed a single finger through the hair to obtain the effect. The longer you looked at it a stirring feeling of recognition began to ache in the back of your mind.

“It’s that night we spent by the Hongdae river.”

Mino’s voice cut through your thoughts and brought you clarity. Your eyes barely shifting to acknowledge his body turned in your direction, before looking back at the painting. It seemed the second he mentioned it everything about it began to make sense.

It was the moment he’d caught your gaze stuck to the bright sky. So bright and full of endless possibilities.

“Do you remember what you asked me?” He questioned.

You didn’t even need to consider the thousands of possibilities. You already knew.

“Do you ever wonder if the stars miss each other. Millions of them are in the sky. You would think with so many, they would be close to one another, yet they’re so far apart.”

It wasn’t until your eyes took in the shape of dying dust behind a falling star that you finally turned to look at Mino. Your full attention on dried paint that scattered itself on his hands and arms; splattered in rainbow hues all over his shirt and pants. He resembled a piece of art himself, housed inside a room you realized held painted moments of past times together, and more recent. Through this act of whatever it was you’d both created, Mino made something beautiful out of it. He made something beautiful out of you.

Looking at him now...you knew, Mino would forever stay a work of art that would take your breath away. And in that realization, your mind only came up with one solution to end his creative slump he currently found himself in.

You didn’t think twice before your hands found the hem of your shirt and began to lift it over your head. Mino’s eyes widened slightly; no doubt enjoying the unexpected show you put on.

“You’re having trouble painting today.”

It wasn’t a question. You didn’t need an answer, but Mino’s mind wasn’t truly listening to you. It followed his eyes as they watched your hand loop around your back and undo the clasp on your bra.

“I’ve actually been unable to draw - paint - anything. No matter where I go or what I draw, it never comes out right.”

You were stepping out of your shorts when you nodded in acknowledgement. As the last article of clothing fell to the floor, you were left exposed, in all your glory. For some reason, as ridiculous as it sounded, being naked in front of Mino this way sent your nerves into overdrive. It took everything you had not to begin to fidget with your hands.

“Y/N, what are you doing?”

“Use me.”

You blurted it out so harshly it caused Mino to jump. This time you did close your eyes as the embarrassment began to burn against your cheeks.

“Use you?”

By now, Mino was slowly moving towards you. The playful tilt of a smirk drawing up the side of his mouth as his eyes took you in. He radiated a heat that sent your body trembling; not in a bad way. No, no. Far from that. It was an undeniable urge for him to touch you. For his hands to leave burning trials of his exploration of your body on every inch of your skin.

You had to swallow twice to be able to speak.

“Yeah. Use me as your canvas. Paint on me and see if this helps break you out of your creative slump.”

That appeared to stop him cold. His feet no longer coyly bringing him towards you and the smirk now drawn in a thoughtful pout. The first real hint of fear hit your tongue and you tried to swallow it away. You hadn’t considered the fact Mino might call your idea ridiculous and, perhaps, stupid. You were about ready to tell him never mind when his hand motioned for you to move next to the canvas and paints he’s been working on previously.

“Come lay over here.”

You couldn’t reply. Your head giving a curt nod in response as he moved to grab a blanket. It wasn’t the length of your body, but just enough to cover your more...precious parts from the dirt of the floor. Once it was laid in place, you moved to lie down and waited patiently for him to spread his paints out on the tray. Your mind going to counting sheep to pass the time. Around sixty-seven, a gasp of surprise from the cold of the brush against your skin.

“Babo!” You shrieked.

Your hand shot out to smack his arm, which only awarded you with the deep bass of his laugh.

“Should I have warned you?” He asked playfully.

“Duh!”

“Okay, okay. Lie back down and be ready this time, eh.”

You wanted to smack him again and it sent him into more hysterics. You did what he asked though and laid back with your arms out by your sides.

“I’m gonna move the arm closest to me, alright.”

“Why are you telling me?”

“I’m letting you know so you don’t smack me again.”

This time you chuckled to yourself as his hands took gentle hold of your arm and moved it into place. A few moments later the coldness of the brush touched down on your skin. You didn’t jump this time.

You couldn’t tell how long you laid there. Mino moving around different points of your body; spreading different colors along your torso, down your legs, and under your breasts. The two of you making light conversation as he worked, until after a while he informed you he was finished. You were ready to move, but your body was heavy with relaxation and you settled on wiggling your toes.

The sound of a Polaroid camera going off shot your attention back in Mino’s direction. His fingers snaking around to drag the film gently the rest of the way out.

“You better not show anyone.”

Mino gave you a cynical glance over the side of the camera before snapping on more.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. I wouldn’t share you with anyone: not even as artwork. I just want to save these.” Mino set down the Polaroid and gave the two photos a couple last good shakes before he set them gently down. You began to get up when he knelt beside you, stopping your movements completely. “Y/N, I mean this more than anything. I think this is the best art I’ve made in a long time. What we’ve created together today.”

The compliment sent your lips into a humbled smile that you did your best to hide, but Mino refused to let you.

“Mino-ah, I did nothing.”

“There you are wrong.”

He didn’t allow you to argue further: his lips crashed down on yours. His body collapsing against yours and hands moving in a heated rush to remove his clothes. You weren’t surprised to find your own helping. The two of you soon making love in a flurry of still wet paint that helped to create a new work of art against the studio floor.

With the memory fading away, and leaving you to stand back inside the bathroom and Mino a few feet away, it filled you with renewed resolve. What did it matter if you hadn’t graduated from college yet. If you didn’t know a major to stick with, and you worked like a majority of everyone else in customer service jobs and not a giant firm. That your apartment wasn’t in an established part of Seoul.

You were every bit as good for Mino. Hell, you were the right person for him. You knew that more than anything, and you refused to feel any less unworthy anymore. Without waiting another second to allow doubt to stop you, you reached out and took hold of the shower door and opened it to step inside. Mino turned at your entrance with alarm spread clear on his face and raised eyebrows. After his panic subsided, recognition began to lower his shoulders and formed a question in his brow.

“Y/N,” he started huskily, “What are you-“

You didn’t give him a chance to finish. Using the momentum you gained from entering the shower you pushed into him. The warm water from the shower drenching you both as you wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him to you. Your lips pressing against his the only answer that you needed to give.

Mino matched your desire with his own. His mouth opening yours up to him allowing him to drink down every moan he could elicit from you. When pushed to move you back against the wall of the shower, you gave no protest. The need every placement of his hands made coursed through you and sparked like an electric current. Every tug on soaked fabric and delicate graze of teeth skimming down lips until a tongue lashed up to soothe it's haunting ache. Underneath the basic carnal need that plagued your body for Mino’s touch - his touch alone - you knew it was something deeper.

The idea of soulmates and fate seemed like a fairytale of pleasant dreams meant to keep the boogeyman of life at bay. That there was some hope of a Disney ending, definitely not G-rated, far from PG, but still somehow attainable in life. The thought alone used to be enough to make you roll your eyes. In the end, you couldn’t allow your cynicism tarnish the truth you knew was true between you two.

How could you deny the power of the universe when the cosmos rested solely in his lips? The way his name was written in stars along your skin. For fate to align itself over and over until you stood face-to-face wrapped in each others arms in a tangled connection that refused to make sense.

There had to be a reason for all this chaos.

Mino and you were swollen lips and ragged breaths. His naked body pressed against your soaked clothes stirred a desire to finish what you’d started in the other room. Mino, apparently, hadn’t shared the same sentiment. His lips suddenly breaking free of yours only to lead you in a daze from out of the shower.

When you came back into the room, he didn’t bother with a towel. Instead, Mino opted to struggle his wet appendages into the legs of his jeans. He gave small hops of hope that he used to wedge the fabric up his hips. The whole ordeal already making you fight back the rising fit of giggles, only to end up as a losing battle. The shoulders of his t-shirt becoming trapped around his head; face peeking out through the open collar enough to look ridiculous, and finally broke you down into hysterics.

When Mino finally was able to get his shirt comfortably on he walked over to where you’d collapsed onto the bed. You were soaked and the sporadic dry patches on your jeans were annoying. Your body still vibrating from your earlier outburst and you watched as he moved to kneel beside you. Not caring that both of you resembled drowned rats. Mino reached out to calmly take both of your hands. The angle he was at giving you perfect clarity of his face. Perfect enough to be able to see a decision rapidly being made in the softness of his eyes.

“This is gonna sound nuts.”

You reached out to cradle his cheek in your palm. Your thumb rubbing lightly to try and calm the storm of emotions that whipped his eyes frantically back and forth searching your face.

“Mino, this whole year has been crazy. I don’t think anything you could say would surprise me.”

“Marry me.”

Okay. You were wrong. His outburst did surprise you. Your body went still in front of him and your thumb no longer grazed against his lips. You were going into shock and he was taking your silence as denial.

“I mean, I know it’s stupid. It’s a stupid idea, Y/N, and you deserve a better proposal than this, but I don’t want to waste another moment without you and-“

He was rambling. The both of you knew he was and only because the room swelled with the panic of finality you both felt. That terrible chance that if either of you stepped out of the room, whatever spell of courage happened between you both would end. You could see the pleading in his eyes and could only think of doing one sure fire way to bring his frantic speech to a close. You took his face in yours and gave him one good kiss. When you pulled back he was stuck in place looking for all the world like a wound up doll who’d run out of juice.

“To answer your question, Mino: yes.”

It took his ears a second to register what you’d said, but the minute he heard it Mino broke into a smile so big you couldn’t help but smile back. He rushed to close the small space between you and wrapped his arms with a constrictors grip around you. Only pulling back to kiss you rapidly all over your face raising giggles from your throat.

“Yes? Yes! She said yes!”

“Ya, Mino,” you chided playfully. “You act like someone is going to hear you.”

“I don’t need anyone to hear me. All I needed to hear was your answer. Come on,” he urged rushing to grab both of your jackets. “I know somewhere that’s still open that they’ll do the ceremony right now.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you moved hand-in-hand to the front door. This was it. You were on your way to get married. Nothing and yet, everything was about to change. Mino shot you one last smile over his shoulder before he ripped open the door. The both of you coming to a halt in front of the woman, closed fist raised to knock, frozen in shock before you.

You didn’t need Mino to tell you who she was. By the way her face crumbled like all the cheated souls before her, you knew this was his fiance. The look of pain replaced itself with something much colder and harder. The anger coming in waves to steel herself against the pain you no doubt swimming inside her like a monsoon.

“How long?”

Her voice trembled in a way that would have made anyone consider it to be sadness. Anyone else, besides you. You knew it was simply the sound of her choking back on a heartbroken rage cocktail that was brewing deep in her chest. Her tears scolding while the judgement her eyes held a very clear hatred for you. Her world slowly falling apart as she drank you both in. Clothes still clinging to your body like a second skin with both lips puffy and red from each other’s kisses. Her world was collapsing into ruin in quiet milliseconds of betrayal before her.

Mino finally let go of your hand and stepped towards her. She instantly retracted from his touch and swatted away his hand as if it were a pest.

“Don’t touch me!” She shrieked.

“Jang-mi, please,” he protested. This time Mino didn’t make the mistake of trying to touch her. His hands simply motioning for her to come into the safety of the room. “Let’s discuss this inside the room. Not the hallway.”

Her face turned a bright red, and you understood why. Mino sounded like he was coddling a tantrum throwing child. Not a woman who just had a brutal awakening of her soon-to-be husband’s affair. Jang-mi took on last reproachful glance in your direction and moved to go inside the room; taking careful steps to touch neither of you.

As soon as the door to the room was closed, she whirled on you both. Maybe it would’ve been better to remain at Mino’s side to seem like a united front. But you couldn’t bring yourself to give her another theoretical smack in the face with that. So you kept a few inches between you and your head cast downward at the carpet.

“How. Long.”

Jang-mi enunciated every word. Her small fists now in tight fists as her eyes scanned from one face to the other. Waiting for one of you to find the courage to answer. You wanted to let out a sigh of relief when Mino finally spoke: “Close to a year.”

That answer wasn’t what the other woman wanted. The air appeared to be knocked out of her, as her knees collapsed from under her and she ended up sitting on the bed.

“I should’ve known,” Jang-mi began with her voice breathy as if she was talking from a memory. “That day in the alley. When I seen you two together. I knew by the look on your face.”

She looked up at you then, and you didn’t dishonor her by looking away. You held her gaze and knew you deserved what she thought of you. For in Jang-mi’s story, you were the villain. The one who came and stole her ever-after and did it without apology. You wouldn’t ask her to offer forgiveness for your selfishness.

“His mother has a picture with you in it still. When you were younger at Danah’s eleventh birthday party. I know you were his first love. It’s clear on your faces, but make no mistake, I am the one he chose to marry.”

Jang-mi found her strength to stand and it was against you. You admired her fight but, in this, you refused to let her win.

“That can change,” you snapped.

Your response surprised her, but she made it clear in her squared shoulders and upturned chin she wasn’t backing down.

“How? For a year, you were nothing more than a girl kept in the shadows. No better than a whore-“

“Jang-mi, enough!”

Mino cut in and went to shield you. You stopped him with a hand to his shoulder and stepped around him. Mino could be your knight in shining armor any day - but not today. Today, you would do it for yourself.

“Think what you want, but I will be what you can never be: the woman he loves.”

Your cheek erupted in flecks of pain that radiated along the side of your face. It was so intense, your eyes blurred with unshed tears. This time you didn’t stop Mino from stepping between the two of you. Their arguing words drowned out to the ringing in your ears.

“You need to choose Mino: right here and now! Either me or her, and you better make the right choice.”

You knew her threat wasn’t empty. It was backed by outrage with need for you to be proven wrong. That she was the one that held his heart; not willing to admit to the fact she might never have to begin with. Tears were freely streaming down her cheeks now as she reached out to hold onto him. Mino’s guilt leaving him unable to look away from the tears she tried to claim were of anger, but really a reflection of her breaking heart.

The small room erupted in silence, and it began to make doubt creep into your thoughts. There was always the off chance Mino could choose her, and that was something you couldn’t bear. With your cheek still burning and eyes roaming back and forth between the both of them you didn’t notice Mino moving to stand beside you. His hand moving out to gently take yours in his, while his eyes sadly took in the woman before him.

“I’m sorry, Jang-mi for being a coward and not telling you sooner. I love you, but I’m not in love with you and...because of that I cannot marry you.”

If things had been different, you would’ve went to her. You were sure that you were the last person she would ever want to comfort her. Not when the two of you stood mockingly the day before her would-be wedding. You knew Mino didn’t want to leave her this way. That he would carry the guilt of what transpired here tonight, and maybe he should for now. No one should go without acknowledging their own wrongdoing in someone else’s pain. Before he could say anything to Jang-mi, however, a sudden knock came at the door.

“Mino, are you there?”

The sound of Mino’s father at the door immediately made him stiffen. The anxiety evident on his face, and here it was Jang-mi saw her opening to share her grief with someone new.

“He's here with another woman!”

“J-Jang-mi, is that you?”

Mino’s father sounded perplexed and you couldn’t blame him. He probably wasn’t expecting to hear his future daughter-in-law yelling about another woman. A tight squeeze into your hand reminded you of Mino at your side. Throughout this whole moment, Mino remained calm and allowed Jang-mi to react how she felt, because he knew he’d given her one of the greatest forms of betrayal. But the quiet understanding he’d used to compose himself was now gone. Now he just looked plain pissed off.

“You have no right to bring him into this!” He snapped.

“He deserves to know the kind of man his son is,” Jang-mi retorted. Her disdain dripping off of every word.

“Mino! Open this door! Is Jang-mi in there with you?”

“Oppa, everything is alright!”

“No everything is not!”

Jang-mi screeched the last word high enough it made you wince. She moved forward and slammed an angry fist down on Mino’s chest. You moved to grab her, but Mino simply shook his head and placed his hands gently on her shoulders.

“Jang-mi,” he began sadly, “this will not make your pain hurt any less.”

“No, you’re right. It won’t.” She moved her hands to rest on his arms and stayed there. Just for a moment. Her looking up at him, Mino staring back, and you feeling like the odd third wheel in what seemed like an intimate moment. Suddenly, her gentleness turned cold and her arms shoved his away and stepped back. “But if I can make you feel any ounce of humiliation that I feel, just for one second, then it’s worth it.”

The room swelled with tension of the unknown before Jang-mi opened her mouth wide and let out a scream. Her mascara running down in droplets that reminded you of the matchmaker in Mulan. For all the world she had passed her pain and went start to rage and called out the worst things. That you were assaulting her. That Mino has struck her. It was enough to send Mino’s father into a frenzy outside the door.

“Fuck this,” Mino growled.

He reached out his hand and clasped it securely around yours. He didn’t wait to grab your coats or cellphones. Mino moved straight for the door not caring for the howling woman at your back and opened the door to startle his father, and a few gawking hotel guests.

“Mino, what’s going on?”

Mino didn’t answer his father. He pushed past him and forced you to do the same. The Song elder finally noticing your presence and his confusion only aging him faster.

“Mino. Stop!”

But he didn’t stop. He kept running you both down the hallway and to the stars. The sound of his father and others rushing to catch up to you. Mino was running down the stairs at a speed that forced you to jump two at a time to keep up. It should’ve been odd. Maybe embarrassing, to be seen bursting from the stairwell into a fancy lobby. Your abrupt entrance startling guests waiting and checking in. In truth, it caused you to laugh.

It didn’t matter what strangers thought as you moved through the prestigious double doors with people from the bridal party giving chase. Not even seeming crazy that Mino, or you, had any idea where you were going to run too. You just kept running, hand in hand, until he finally spotted a bus a few yards ahead.

The both of you started waving the driver down in hopes he would see you and wait. There was a brief moment your heart dropped when it seemed he was about to shut the doors, but noticed his annoyance at having to wait for you written plainly on his face. You silently wished him and his family a thousand blessings as your feet took the small steps loudly. Mino and you digging like crazy around in your pockets to find the exact change to put it.

You both couldn’t present it fast enough when his family came tearing into view, causing Mino to take the wad of money and shove it towards the driver.

“You can keep all of it if you’ll just shut the doors and take off now. Please.”

It didn’t seem the older man was going to comply. His wary eyes moving from the money to both of your sweaty figures gasping for air and damp clothes. You were almost about to step back off the bus when he motioned with his head for the two of you to sit down. You were ready to hug him, but didn’t want to push your luck.

The both of you moved to sit at the far back of the bus. Mino taking the window seat and you curled up against him with your head resting on his shoulder. The two of you stayed silent for a long time. Neither of you commenting on his father and, maybe, the groomsmen or the brides’ family, slamming their hands against the door just before the driver merged into the Seoul traffic.

You listened only to the sound of his heart beating. The way it began to ease into its natural rhythm after the storm passed. It’s what helped you sort out all the thoughts that raged for purpose inside your head. The main one being the only one you chose to speak out loud.

“What now?”

Mino let out a sigh as a lazy hand moved to stroke over your hair. He remained quiet a while longer before he spoke.

“Now? Now we just live out our happily-ever-after.”

A snort of laughter left you as you looked out the window; not wanting to move less it caused him to stop playing with your hair.

“Oh, is that all?” You teased.

“Forever is simple. It’s the in between of getting there that’s hard.”

“You saying I’m hard?”

You looked up him and took in the wistful smile that danced behind almond eyes. His finger moving delicately to trace the outline of your face.

“No, jagi . You are the part of getting to forever that makes it all worth it.”

He spoke the last of his words against your lips. His nose playfully kissing across yours, before he actually moved down to give you a kiss and as he did you couldn’t help but agree. Everything that led to this point had been hell and messy, but it was easy to breathe once again. Your world righted itself and begun to make sense and that, you knew, was because your forever was simple. Your forever was kissing you, and that was the magic of finding your happily-ever-after and never letting go.

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gingervsblondie · 5 years

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Blondie Has Servant Trouble (1940)

11:51 PM, Saturday, 19 October 2019

What a title, eh? The biggest first world problem of the 20th century. Needless to say, there are bigger problems in the world in 1940 than Blondie’s servant trouble, but here we are. I’m not in the best mood so why not take it out on this totally well-meaning but inconsequential piece of light entertainment from 80 years ago?

11:55

Hey so: the mailman Dagwood runs into in the intro isn’t the mailman he runs into in the movies proper. I don’t know if it ever was. Maybe in the first movie, I honestly don’t remember, but I don’t know who that guy in the intro is. He’s not the mailman I know and love from these great great flicks.

11:58

Hey, noir detective newspaper guy is back! I guess whatever drama I decided was going on behind the scenes last time is resolved now.

We may never know how much blood he has on his hands, how far he went, interrogating petty criminals in alleys, following the trail that ended at the dog-catchers, God rest their souls.

12:01 AM

So… I think a lot of what I’ve seen so far is stock footage, which isn’t something they’ve done to any noticeable degree in the previous movies. Maybe it isn’t though? I don’t know! I don’t trust myself. Maybe these movies are just so repetitive that I can’t believe that they filmed this stuff a second time anymore.

(Future Euan note: I’m pretty sure it wasn’t stock footage.)

12:03

So far, this entry seems to be about superstitions. You know, black cats, walking under ladders.

I’m kinda checked out. Which I can only apologize for. If you’re reading this I want to give you my all, but I mean YOU KNOW WHAT’S GONNA HAPPEN. YOU’VE SEEN OLD CARTOONS. Man I miss Dagwood and Blondie just chilling on the train.

12:07

Blondie: “Poor Daisy. Maybe she’s tired of doing the same thing over and over. I know I am.”

Holy shit, the movie heard me. I’m scared now. I’m feeling very vulnerable and I’m not ready for Blondie Has Servant Trouble to Sonic.exe me.

12:09

Dagwood just electrocuted himself atop a ladder at the top of a flight of stairs, which he then fell down. And all I can think is “man I wish Dagwood could die.”

12:15

Alexander Hamilton Bumstead has a kite.

Kinda like how Charlie Brown flies a kite.

...

You know, What Have We Learned, Charlie Brown has a really interesting sequence of World War II footage that’s hand-tinted in bright stylized colours. I could be watching that right now.

https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x3x6rhf