#Neighboring Sounds

[cristalconnors]

81. Neighboring Sounds (Kleber Mendonça Filho, 2012)

Expertly composed tableaux of class divisions in Brazil that I just wish had more of a narrative through-line to bind them together instead of just thematic ones. Maeve Jinkings!! Rating: 8.2/10

[arcadeunknown]

O Som Ao Redor (2012)

[unfotograma]

O Som ao Redor (2012)

[theindyreview]

World Watch: Neighboring Sounds

World Watch: @NeighborSounds Scandinavian band excellently harnesses a melodic and melancholic adult emo sound @friendclubrecs @bcoredisc #newmusic #emo #indie #indierock #Norway #alternative #punk

Country: Norway Much as midwest emo has become subgenre in itself, groups like Bergen, Norway’s Neighboring Sounds are helping to develop the Scandinavian emo scene with a host of various influences and a strong dose of melancholy. Singles like “Holiday Palaces” has the melodic churn of early Jimmy Eat World, with an emotional intensity that is completely fearless. “Polis” boils with dark, punk…

[incognitopolls]

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[thebibliosphere]

Happy Winter Solstice to all those who mark the occasion. As much as I love the quiet and peace of long, dark nights, I’m ready to welcome back the light.

There’s only so much darkness a soul can take before it craves the dawn.

[powerfultenderness]

lord powerfultenderness, I don't know how to fully picture it but can we have neighbor könig doing grocery shopping with y/n? Please!~

I swear I saw a post somewhere that said König probably makes bank. And Sugar Daddy König hc born/accepted. This man will spoil you if you give him the chance (and then idk wreck you later?)

Either you were oblivious to the looks strangers gave you, to the way women quickly turned around and went down different aisles, or you didn’t care. It was, in fact, the latter. This big menacing looking guy beside you practically cleared a path wherever you wanted. Busy aisles you’d normally have to do trick maneuvers with your cart? Cleared out when he looked at other shoppers. It was amazing, really.

You stopped and looked up at the shelf, the item you wanted on the very top and if you stretched out…you still couldn’t reach it. Even before you could pout and try again, König reached over and plucked the box of snacks off the shelf and dropped in the basket. 

Maybe it was the way his eyes crinkled a bit, but you could tell he was smiling at you. “Those are car snacks.” 

“Car snacks?”

You nodded and continued to push the cart down the aisle. You’d deviated from your shopping list so much that you were now just going up and down aisles to see if there was anything you needed.

“You know, snacks you keep in the car for emergencies. Like, getting stuck in traffic, or on the side of the road while waiting for a tow truck…or lost…” 

“How often do you get lost?” He laughed, shoulders shaking as he tried to keep his laugh at a reasonable indoor level.

“It was just the one time! My GPS wasn’t working!” It wasn’t your fault downtown was an impossible maze!

“What did you do?” 

“I had a snack and figured it out.” You gave up and went home, but he didn’t need to know that. 

Though he could probably guess with the way he was side eyeing you. You knocked your hip into his side (and he didn’t budge at all!) “What do you say to pasta for dinner?” 

He titled his head, “you’re making dinner for me?”

“Yea, I want to do something nice for you for helping me out.” 

König beamed at you, though you couldn’t see behind his mask and you were currently looking at one of the shelves. “I will eat whatever you cook.”

You laughed, it sounded so weird when he said it like that. “Alright, pasta it is.” 

On the way to the checkout, you happened upon a display of clothing, mostly blouses and tee shirts, but some printed leggings as well. “Ooh, that’s cute.” You stopped and picked up a strappy sundress printed with your favorite flowers. “And my size!” You cheered to yourself as you looked at the tag. You flipped it over to check the price tag then set the dress back on the rack. “Pssh, not that cute.” 

You looked at him just as he turned away from the dress you liked. “Hey, can you wait in line while I run and get my prescription?” 

He nodded and took over pushing the cart as you handed him your debit card, “just in case it takes too long.” 

It was a good thing you handed him your card too! There was a bit of wait while your prescription was transferred to the new in store pharmacy. You half debated whether or not you should just leave to pick it up another day, but you already missed a day and didn’t want to throw off the effects. 

By the time you had your medication, König was waiting for you out front. “Sorry about that!” 

He shook his head, “no problem.” And handed you the receipt and your card back. 

You giggled as he loaded the bags in almost one scoop into the back of his truck. Your car was currently in the shop and he very quickly offered to help you out in the meantime. 

“Thank you so much!” You smiled at him once all of the groceries were sitting on your counter. 

“Anytime.” He answered simply.

 “Still up for dinner tonight?” 

He nodded, “of course.” 

The little short answers, no hearty laugh included, were weird. But maybe he just had enough company for a few hours. “Alright, I’ll pop over later then?” 

“Goodbye.” He nodded again and quickly left you alone.

Weird…

Whatever. Maybe he’ll feel better once he…oh! 

You pulled out one of the very dresses you thought was cute, but too expensive, from one of the bags. König’s doing? You checked the receipt and it wasn’t listed. He…bought it himself? And hid it from you? Suddenly the way he was acting nervous before he left made sense. 

-

König’s stomach flipped and his face burned when he opened the door later that night. You were standing in front of him wearing the dress he bought. “You look like an angel.” 

You smiled and spun around, the dress flaring cutely as you did so. “I can’t believe you bought this! Thank you so much! But, let me repay you?” 

“No. Have dinner with me?” 

You giggled, you were already having dinner with him! “You sneaky man! Come on, let’s go!” You then grabbed one of his hands and started to pull him out and towards your flat.

“Wait. Let me lock up.” He fished his keys out of his pocket and locked the door with one hand, refusing to pull out of your touch. 

“Oh. right!” 

“You didn’t lock up, did you?” 

“What! It’s just right there!”   

König was laughing again as he followed you to your home, a dopey smile you couldn’t see lighting his eyes 

[More neighbor König]

[kubominero]

Bro is a Celtic god

[chaoswarfare]

do x dc prompt #46

The meeting room’s bustling noise quieted as Batman called the table to order. The newest member of the Justice League floated ethereally about a foot above the ground as the main heroes of the jl and the jld introduced themselves one by one.

“introduce yourself, with any ghostly titles if you will, i bloody well want to know who we’re going to be working with.” a blonde man in a trench coat spoke up from his seat.

“With my titles?” the specter hummed. “alright.

“My name is Phantom, protected of amity park, specter of the stars, wielder of the ring of rage and crown of fire, protector of all that has died or never lived, king of the dead, the true balance between life and death.” rings of light washed over his figure as his feet hit the floor. “and Danny Fenton, college student extraordinaire.”

the room collectively lost their shit.

[canisalbus]

Today I saw my neighbor's whippet in a cute pink raincoat and I think Machete deserves a cute raincoat too (it's a lady whippet, but in my mind she's a "mini Machete" because she's always giving me bug side eyes)

.

[gideonisms]

griddlehark gynecologist exam

HELPP . I know who this is. I blame this one on you!!

Gideon tenses. Thighs spread out, pussy exposed to the world. She’d forgone the stupid robe. Who needs a flimsy little dress? Gideon Nav is a tough butch, not ashamed of anything her cunt has to offer. Why should she be? She’s handsome, she’s hot, she’s delicious—multiple beautiful women online have told her so.

Normally, this is the type of situation she’d thrive in. Except—

“Now this may be a bit cold,” the woman in front of her says. Again, this is normally the type of situation Gideon would live for. A hot goth girl all dressed up in scrubs, inspecting Gideon within an inch of her life? Sign Gideon up!

It’s just, as the woman’s deep dark eyes alight on Gideon’s pussy, she pulls out the speculum.

“You mentioned you’ve had sex within the past year,” Dr. Nonagesimus says briskly. “So I’m using the larger one. Is that all right?”

Gideon manages a grunt that sort of sounds like “Yes.” Truth be told, she’s finding the doctor’s lack of bedside manners vaguely…arousing? Gideon shudders. Oh no.

As Dr. Nonagesimus inserts the tip of the speculum slowly into Gideon’s cunt, Gideon realizes she’s in trouble. Sure, she was lying about the sex. Look, it’s been a long year. But tell that to her cunt—she’s practically dripping onto the table. Dr. Nonagesimus slides the speculum in with a serene immovable confidence that would normally have Gideon on her knees.

Her cunt clenches. Dr. Nonagesimus makes a humming sound, neither surprised nor horrified. Just vaguely disapproving.

“Well, everything looks normal so far.”

“Normal?” Gideon says, quickly losing her grip on reality as Dr. Nonagesimus slides one careful finger in to part Gideon even wider. Her touch is clinical, but the sudden warmth of her fingers even through the gloves, the extra fullness—Gideon whines.

Time seems to stop. For a moment, no one says anything. Dr. Nonagesimus continues to inspect her pussy. Then her eyes flicker up to Gideon’s, and she raises one perfect eyebrow. She slides another finger in.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Gideon pants, as she clenches again and almost comes right then and there.

Dr. Nonagesimus leans closer to get a better look. “Nothing to be sorry for,” she says. “You’re doing so well—Gideon, is it?”

Gideon nods, focusing all her attention on the clock in the corner of the room, which informs her it has been less than five minutes since this exam started. She’s never felt so debased in her life, and the woman in front of her hasn’t even done anything.

Dr. Nonagesimus breathes out. Gideon can feel it on her cunt. She begs the gods for mercy—and for once, they hear her request.

The fingers in her cunt slide out along with the speculum, leaving her horribly empty.

“Congratulations, Gideon,” Dr. Nonagesimus says. “You don’t have cervical cancer.”

With that, she abruptly turns around and takes off her gloves. She washes her hands, then starts entering information into a computer.

Gideon lies there, speechless.

“You have my card,” Dr. Nonagesimus continues. “Call me if you need any…additional help.”

“Call you?” Gideon asks. She’s not sure she heard right.

Dr. Nonagesimus looks her directly in the eyes. One corner of her black-painted mouth twitches. “Yes. If you have any concerns.”

Oh, Gideon is concerned, all right.

(and so am I! she didn’t even make you pee in a cup, Gideon!!)

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: before the nightingale sings

---------

for my batdad blood blossom au, the one where Vlad poisoned Danny with blood blossom extract and Danny ran away from him and ended up tumbling into the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman :). A quick oneshot telling the tale of the tragic deaths of the Fentons

TW: Major Character Death Warning

-------

Not all deaths are created equal.

That is a valuable lesson in life to learn. One that Danny learns when he is eleven years old, standing in the pit of his parents’ creation; the culmination of their life’s work. The portal to the other side, the realm of the dead. To the infinite. 

He learns that when he’s eleven years old, in a hazmat suit that sags on him, and boots that clunk when he walks because the only ones that fit are his mom’s, and even those are too big. In gloves that he has to clench his fists in because otherwise they fall off. In goggles that slide down his nose even when he’s tightened them the farthest they can go. 

He learns that when he’s eleven years old, choking on giggles that harmonize with the laughter of his friends’ who stand at the mouth of the tunnel. Sam’s holding a polaroid in her hand. They’re just being kids. 

They’re not laughing when Danny’s hand hits the safety lock — the one with faulty wiring, the only one in the tunnel. The only one he could possibly hit. They’re not laughing when the portal buzzes to life, and the lights inside switch on row by row as the generator begins to rumble and hum. 

They’re not laughing when Danny dies. They’re screaming. They’re not screaming when he comes back.

Not all deaths are created equal.  

Some are poetic, beautiful. The satisfying close of a book as it comes to an end, of the hardback thumping soft against the pages like the sound of a door closing. A train run its course.

Some are violent; unsatisfying; unfair. The unexpected shattering of an egg as it rolls off the countertop when nobody is looking, the unmistakable crack as it falls to the floor. It is abrupt and messy. 

But most are just… unremarkable. Unintentional. Clumsy. 

Danny’s family dies one night in late January. He is thirteen years old, barely a month away from fourteen. It is unforeseen. It is preventable. It happens. 

It happens like this: 

Their water heater breaks one Monday in January. It’s old, sitting in the garage, and has dealt with nearly sixteen years of Fenton-grade chaos and shenanigans. Of parents tossing scraps and junk into the garage as brief storage to come back to later. Of illegal tune-ups on their vehicles that result in something exploding. Of little children running around and knocking things over, playing with poles and sticks they find on the ground, on the shelves. Of being lived and used.  

Something had to give. 

Jack Fenton notices it immediately when he comes upstairs that very afternoon — his children at school, his wife downstairs — to grab something from the garage. The very same scrap and used material they store like squirrels to use later. 

He stops what he’s doing to fix it.  

It wasn’t supposed to be permanent. 

Despite what many believe, Jack Fenton is not the idiot people make him out to be. He knows what he’s good at, he knows what he’s not. He knows he can be passionate and obsessive and single-minded about things. He knows that he is a scientist, an inventor; an engineer. 

He knows that he is not a plumber. That fixing water heaters is not something he knows how to do, not safely. And he loves his family. What he does is only meant to be temporary — a fix meant to only last a few days until they can call someone in who can fix it for them. 

So Jack Fenton futzes with the water heater, gives it a temporary stitch to last a short while, and reminds himself to call a plumber later that day to come in and fix it. He turns and leaves the garage with the part he came for —  a sheet of metal for his wife to melt down — and disappears back downstairs. 

He does not make that call; it slips from his mind. 

It is not his fault. 

One day passes, then two, then suddenly it is Thursday. The water heater has still not been fixed, the water heater has been forgotten. It is nobody’s fault.  

Danny asks his parents at breakfast if he can stay over at Tucker’s house for the night. Just one night. They’re going to study for their math test and then play video games until midnight, but he only tells his parents that first half. 

He’s been doing well in school. Really well — better than he has in a while. There’s been a delightful lull in ghost appearances for the last few weeks. The living don’t know why, but Danny does. The Winter Truce always calms the dead down for a while, something about how the Zone cleanses itself twice a mortal year and that fresh wave of ecto clears out the old and brings in the new. 

This year Danny got to participate. He’s feeling the effects of it too, and he’s been sleeping consistently well for the first time since the accident. 

It’ll never happen again. 

His parents agree under the condition that he doesn’t stay up late, and Danny harmlessly lies through his teeth and agrees. He goes and throws overnight clothes into his school backpack, and when he leaves for school with Jazz his parents are already departed into the lab. 

The last conversation he has with his sister is in her car on the drive to school. Inane, mindless conversation to fill the air and pass the time. Jazz comments on how relaxed he’s been lately; Danny tells her about the Winter Truce. She listens in rapt attention. 

She tells him that she’s glad to see him so well-rested. She thinks her little brother’s been growing up too fast these days. She thinks he’s been too tense. Too caught up with the spinning of the world around him that he forgets about himself sometimes. 

When they reach school, before Danny can get out of the car, Jazz looks to her little brother and says; “I love you.” 

Her little brother’s cheeks turn an embarrassed shade of red. He makes a scrunched up, grossed-out face, but can’t hide the smile pulling across it. “Don’t be a sap, Jazz. I’ll see you later.” He tells her, yanking his hood up over his head. She hears the bashful, ‘love you too’ before he walks away. 

That is the last conversation she ever has with her brother. 

Thursday is unremarkable, passing by in its normality as it always does. There’s one, maybe two ghost sightings; shades lurking around in curious infancy that are easily spooked away by the presence of a greater being. Danny doesn’t even have to go ghost. 

Thursday evening is even less so. Danny goes to Tucker’s house — Sam has a prior arrangement with her slam poetry club — and the two of them study for an hour before they toss their textbooks aside and reach for the game console. 

Danny sleeps in Tucker’s room with one of the extra blankets on his bed, curled across the room in one of the bean bag chairs. It shouldn’t be comfortable, but to Danny it is. He sleeps throughout the night, the portal shut down by his parents before they’d gone to bed. 

Early Friday morning, before the sun has even risen yet, before it’s even so much as a concept to grace the horizon, the water heater breaks again. It was supposed to be fixed. 

Carbon monoxide is a silent killer. Odorless and scentless, it kills within minutes. It fills the house like a shadow casting over the ground, creeping into the rooms. 

Danny’s family die in their sleep; painless and unaware. 

It’s not Jack Fenton’s fault. He didn’t mean to.  

Nobody wakes up with their alarms. 

Danny wakes up to Tucker Foley’s alarm on Friday morning, and he turns his head intangible and shoves it into the beanbag chair like an ostrich hiding its head in the sand. Tucker gets up before him, and throws a pillow at him as he reaches for the alarm. 

There’s laughter, messing around. The both of them get dressed, and Danny has breakfast with the Foleys that morning. He takes the bus to school with Tucker, and they meet Sam by their lockers. 

To him, everything is as normal as it should be. There are no ghosts for him to fight right now, school is as school does, and he’s on top of all his schoolwork. 

He does not see Jazz at all that morning, he doesn’t notice. Their schedules are so different, their routes on different paths, that it’s not uncommon for Danny to not see Jazz until he gets home some days. That’s if there’s no ghost attacks. 

At lunch, he gets approached by her friends. Worried creases between their brows, they ask him if he’s seen Jazz. She hasn’t shown up to any of her classes. She’s not answering their texts. It’s unprecedented of her; unheard of. 

Danny doesn’t admit to the concern that swells in his gut when they tell him this. He shrugs at them, and says he hasn’t seen her either. But it was probably nothing to worry about; she might just be sick and sleeping it off. 

He offers to text her and let them know if he gets a response, and that seems to ease her friends enough that they shuffle away in uncertainty. He keeps his word, and does exactly that. He pulls out his phone and opens her contact, and shoots her a message.

‘Where are you?’ 

He doesn’t get a response back, Danny is left on sent. He puts his phone in his pocket, and with a sense of unease creeping in the back of his mind, goes on with his day. He gets no response by the time the final bell rings; and he tries not to be worried. 

The house is quiet when he opens the door. Unusually quiet. He drops his backpack to the floor, it lands with a hearty thunk, and begins to take off his jacket. “Mom! Dad!” He yells. He hangs it up, and slips his shoes from his feet. “Jazz skipped school today!”

A laughable untruth that would get his sister all riled up normally; she should be able to hear him from the front door if she was in her room. The house just stays dead silent. 

He can’t even hear the usual banging and crashing from the lab. His unease returns. He reaches for the intercom that leads directly down to the basement, and presses the button to turn it on. A burst of static, and then he speaks;

“Mom? Dad?” 

Danny lets go, and waits for a response. He gets none back. That never happens, not when the house is this quiet. Not when he knows they should’ve heard him. 

Something sickly and fearful borns in the pit of his stomach, and begins to snake upward. He heads for the lab. The cool metal of the door is familiar in the grooves of his hand, and he doesn’t even need to think about the code as he punches it in;  he simply lets muscle memory guide him. It’s been the same since he was little. 

The door hisses as the pressure is released, and he swings the door open. He takes the stairs down two at a time. Something is wrong. His parents aren’t answering him. His feet pound against the metal. 

“Mom? Dad?” He calls again, more worried, more frantic. More scared. His voice echoes down the stairwell, and he reaches the bottom before it’s fully faded. The lab is empty. The portal is still shut down. 

It was four in the afternoon, they should still be down here. 

Danny races back upstairs, fear-raised nausea coiling in his throat. “This isn’t funny you guys!” He yells when he reaches the top, shoving open the door with more force than necessary. His head swims, his voice cracked. 

He checks the garage, the car is still there. 

“Mom!? Dad!” His voice bellows out throughout the first floor, loud enough that it bounces back at him and rings against his ears. He’s never raised his voice this much — mom would scold him if she heard him. But she doesn’t show up. “Jazmine!” 

Finally, he goes upstairs, and he can’t tell if what he’s feeling is anger or terror. Something is very, very wrong. 

He swings the door of his parents’ rooms open first, and there they are, with the lights still off and the curtains still drawn. As if they hadn’t left their bed all day. Some of Danny’s fear lifts from his shoulders just by the sight of them, but he’s still trembling. Something is still wrong — the room smells… off. Not good, not bad. Just… off. 

He swallows dryly, his throat still thick, and steps into the room. “Mom, dad?” They do not stir. “Didn’t you guys hear me yelling?” 

There is only room static. Danny’s heart shrivels in his chest with a tenfold return of terror, he feels ill. He remembers, just now, that they’re not heavy sleepers, and his dad should be snoring like a freight house. 

Danny reaches their bedside in seconds, hand outstretching for the covers, “Momma? Dad?”

Not all deaths are created equal. 

But many of them are accidental. Unmeditated. Shocking.

Danny Fenton finds his family dead in his childhood home. He runs to his neighbors in hysterics, inconsolable, in tears. Nine-one-one is called, but there is nothing that can be done. They were dead for hours by the time Daniel Fenton returned home. 

He sits on the front steps of the neighbor’s house beside FentonWorks, his jeans slowly becoming wet from the snow that was unable to be scraped off, and watches the paramedics cart out his family beneath white sheets. There are police cars blocking off the street, yellow tape blocking off his house, red-blue lights lighting up the block, an ambulance on the scene. He is wrapped in a shock blanket, and he is missing his jacket and his shoes. His tears are freezing onto his face, he can’t feel the chill. 

Not all deaths are created equal

But all of them are unforgettable. 

[arcadeunknown]

O Som Ao Redor (2012)

[albaricomics]

Is it okay if I share my AU to you? If so here❤

Opposite TNMN AU [TW: BLOOD ON THE ART BELOW]

I had this idea, "What if there's an opposite version of the neighbors?" and this is all I got.

Francis - instead of being a milkman, he's now a mailman. He now smiles very often and he's a sarcastic, apathetic man and probably a sadist. He just kills other doppelgangers to let he's a anger out instead on Nacha.

Nacha - she's now a manager in a restaurant, she has short curly hair, and doesn't smile very often anymore. She didn't like Francis humiliating her, considering that their marriage is arranged.

Anastacha - for her though... she's now a baseball player and smiles like her father does, and she finally have the different eye colors like her mother. She's also apathetic and cynical, she defends herself by using her bat. Surprisingly Ana is very fond with her father.

Angus - instead of being a businessman, he's now only an employee and he looked upset and doesn't smiles that much often. He lacks confidence and only getting annoyed of Francis humiliating him.

I'm still thinking about the other neighbors opposite tho...

Dude that's such a cool idea AAAAA OPPOSITE AU LET'S GO!!!

Love how Francis looks kinda scary/mean, would be so funny to watch him act out like that

[until-another-one-comes]

Imagine Angus, Izaack or Margarette having a bad day and they have to take a moment to compose themselves before meeting the doorman because if they don't smile wide enough like usual they'll literally get killed.

[cutieacefuck]

hbomberguy is SO fucking good at making me hate people ive literally never heard of