#but its not kevins fault that hes the best. and its not jeans fault he exists

[humongousgothskeletonfarm]

TSC CHAPTER ELEVEN SPOILERS AHEAD

STARTING OFF THE CHAPTER STRONG AS FUCK DISASTER BISEXUAL JEAN MOREAU AWARENESS

picturing jean in a pair of raybans is good for my mental health

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“Missed a couple spots. Need a hand?”

jeremy u flirt

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do the trojans ever realise that jean is NOT IN FACT deaf and standing right in front of them when they are talking about him?

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oh ok so chapter 11 is in fact worse than chapter 10

if anyone reading this has ever believed that they deserved the abuse, trauma/suffering they’ve experienced, i’m here to tell u right now that nobody deserves that and it is not ever ur fault, no matter what others might say or try to convince u. whatever happened to u is unequivocally not ok. please seek help from a professional if u are worried about urself or others in ur life.

if u have ever felt uncomfortable or violated in certain situations just know that no matter how ‘big’ or ‘small’ the situation may seem (i use these terms loosely because i do not believing in ranking peoples traumas), ur feelings are 100% valid and u always always deserve to be respected and heard.

i hope u know that u are not alone and never will be.

sending lots of love to all of u

-

wtff jenkins is a girl?? did we all know this or have i just read too many fanfics always thought jenkins was a guy?

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It was sacrilegious even in the privacy of his head, and Jean hunched his shoulders against a blow that never came.

fuck that’s a good line. traumatic as fuck and makes me wanna cry for all these boys have gone through but god as an ex-catholic raised queer person i can tell u this line struck hard even though i cant relate to the specifics of the scene

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Jean didn’t mind cooking, but he didn’t say that. This was the first time his room truly felt safe and right, and he was content to hold onto it for as long as he could. He closed his eyes again, but now his thoughts were snagged on Jeremy. At length he broke the silence to say, “Two beds would fit in here.”

jean moreau u are so loved

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“You are not them,” Jean said. “Kevin would not have sent me here if you were.”

THE PARALLELS IN THIS BOOK ARE FUCKING KILLING ME PLS NORA LET ME LIVE IN PEACE THIS IS TOO MUCH FOR ME TO HANDLE

ANDREIL EXISTS IN EVERYTHING

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Just because he had to meet with this man didn’t mean he had to speak to him.

jean, u diss aaron earlier in the books but really ur just the same as him

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betsy dobson to the mother fuckibg rescue someone get this bitch a ‘worlds best therapist’ mug

and jean, dude do u know how fucking similar u and neil are, seriously like u guys should be besties like-

“It was not my choice,” he sent back in warning. “I do not need counseling.” He didn’t trust her at all, but there was no point spelling it out.

CHAPTER TWELVEE

dude wtf is it with me and napping while tryna finish this book, literally just accidentally fell asleep for 2.5 hrs when i could’ve been reading

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“Imagine getting changed so we can practice,” Jean said.

king is fed uppp

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“It’s not about size, anyway.” ​“Defensive,” Jean said, tugging his glove straps with his teeth. ​Jeremy straightened in indignation. “I don’t have anything to be defensive about.” Jean lost his grip and bit his lip, and Jeremy hurried on before either of them could think too much about that double entendre.

OKKKK JEREMY I SEE U

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“That’s not—I do care. I want you to play with us, and I want you to have fun again. I want to see what you can do on the court and what you bring to our defense line. I want us to finally win this year after coming so close and failing too many times. But it’s just a game, Jean. Your safety and happiness will always be more important than our season.”

GOOD GOD ITS WHAT U DESERVE JEAN

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“Every time you say that you take a year off my life. I’d really like to live to ninety, so please knock it off.”

now the trojans understand how the foxes feel when neil whips out his ‘im fine’ line,, also i’m never gonna stop saying that neil and jean should be besties it’s literally just a fact

“I do not believe you when you are drinking such filth,” Jean said, with a disapproving look toward her drink. Laila stared him down as she sucked a long gulp through the straw,

this book is so devastatingly depressing and explores some of the most horrible traumatic things that could happen to a person but it’s interspersed with some of the funniest scenes that it gives me whiplash

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“Pat and Ananya have wanted to fuck Cody’s brains out for almost a year now. I really thought Cody moving in with them this summer was going to finally get that ball moving, but apparently not. It’s getting kind of pitiful.” ​“Pat and Ananya have been engaged almost as long as Cody has known them,” Laila pointed out as she fit herself against Cat’s side. “You can’t blame Cody for being scared of where they might belong in something like that.”

NORA GIVING US THE POLYAMORY WE DESERVE AFTER CUTTING KANDREIL FROM THE OG BOOKS LETS GO QUEER REP

YK THAT RUNNING JOKE THAT USC IS THE QUEEREST TEAM AND NOBODY HAS AS MANY GAYS AS THEY DO??? IM SO FUCKIBG HAPPY NORA HAS BASICALLY MADE THAT CANNON

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CHAPTER 13333

jeremy is so hopelessly crushing on jean and that’s real of him

meanwhile jean:

Threat assessment, he told himself, and it was almost the truth.

sureee buddy

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They’d arrived holding hands and dressed in matching cream-and-teal outfits. Even their gold-rimmed sunglasses and teal sneakers were identical.

well that is definitely an outfit!

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“Speaking of happy endings, has Laila bought you a sex toy yet?”

EXCUSE ME

this whole scene was so fucking random but jean deserves great friendships

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ANOTHER TRANS TROJAN LETS FYCKING GOOOOOO CONGRATS ON UR TOP SURGERY XAVIER

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‘i’m sure the ravens wouldn’t have taken neil in if they’d known he was the son of a mob boss!!’

uhhhhh…

i don’t know how to tell u this buddy

-

dude i just cannot stop think about the whole new world of fanfics we’re gonna get now that tsc has come out like the aftg universe is expanding and becoming more detailed it’s gonna be crazy

chapter 14!!!

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Jean eyed him. “For what purpose?” ​Jeremy looked to the ceiling for patience. “For fun.” ​Jean sighed as if Jeremy was the one being unreasonable.

oh jean we’ll get there eventually

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Jean was a starving dog on a short chain who’d learned years ago not to bite back.

OH MY FUCKING GOD GIVE ME PEACE

MY CHEST IS ACHING AT THIS METAPHOR

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SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP THE PARALLELS ARE DESTROYING ME I CANT FUCKING TAKE IT ANYMORE

“You are Jean Moreau. Your place is here with me, with us. I’m your captain. You’re my partner. We’re supposed to be doing this together, aren’t we? Stop leaving me behind. Look at me.”

-

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that he hurt you, I’m sorry that you’re still afraid to talk about it, and I’m sorry that you think I’ll never understand. I’m sorry that he tricked you into thinking you deserved it. But I’m not sorry he’s gone. I can’t be.”

“Neither am I.”

TEAR MY HEART OUT AND STOMP ON IT NORA JESUS CHRIST

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everytime one of the trojans says ‘we’re here to listen whenever your ready to talk and open up to us’ and then they go and demand he tell them every secret he’s ever kept

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kevin and jeans relationship in this book is so fucking well written, it’s tearing me apart and giving me so much life

they have so much shared trauma and the relationship is so complex but they understand eachother so deeply

He is not used to having a voice, and he has never had power. I cannot promise he will ever talk to you.” ​“I will wait as long as it takes,”

“Be careful with it,” Kevin said. “Be careful with him.”

-

“Night practices with Andrew and Neil,” Kevin said. ​“Obsessed,” Jeremy

exy fiend kevin day representation

also

“No, Jean is fine. As fine as he can be, anyway. Yes, I know.” (kevin when talking to someone ‘offscreen’) i just know he was talking to neil

-

She crossed the room and leaned over, catching Jean’s head in her hands so she could plant a kiss to the top of his head.

this is the love jean deserves

chapter 15:

“Your fourth line has a smart mouth, Coach,” Jean said. “I was hoping he would bite his tongue off in the fall and save us both some grief in the long run.”

jean i love u

-

Jean wished he had the common sense to shut up,

he’s so me

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“And keep Kevin’s name out of your ignorant mouth,”

THEYRE SO IMPORTANT TO ME UR HONOUR

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i keep forgetting that jean only learnt english after he moved into evermore and that kevin probably taught him but i love the subtle little reminders every now and then when he has to clarify a word, like when he has to ask what a ‘floozy’ is and:

due to egregious injuries.” ​Jean didn’t recognize that word, but since Lucas was already running his mouth, he didn’t get a chance to ask.

it’s such a good detail that just adds so much more depth to his character

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“Permission to break his face, Coach?” Jean asked. ​“Denied,” White said.

SCREAMING

THIS IS SO NEIL AND WYMACK CODED I LOVE IT

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JEAN MOREAU ON A MOTHERFUCKING MOTORCYCLE HOLY SHIT

catalina alvarez u wonderful human i love u

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jean realising how big the world is and the fact that he’s explored more of california than any other place he’s been before is making me tear up he never should’ve been kept trapped inside he deserves to see the world

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So long as she existed as fractured memories, she was safe and small and sheltered.

oh god don’t do this to me

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Jean gazed out at the endless horizon, feeling small and infinite from one moment to the next.

beautiful, just beautiful, absolutely immaculate

A cool evening breeze. Rainbows. Open roads.

A COOL EVENING BREEZE. RAINBOWS. OPEN ROADS

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SECOND LAST CHAPTER!!! LETS GOOO

“He is not going to hit you. Okay? We don’t do that here. You said you’d try to do better and that’s enough for us.”

starting off strong

-

You’re one of my kids now.

don’t mind me i’m just sobbing

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no no no no no no no no no

holy shit no what the fucking fuck

don’t do this to jean rn oh my fucking god i’m sick to my stomach on the verge of fully crying right now

actually dreading reading on right now

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um ok yeah so i read it and to anyone who hasn’t finished the book yet beware there is a graphic violent scene followed by an intense panic attack in chapter 16 that’s is very difficult to read

i did cry and all i can say is thank fuck for lisinski’s timing

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Jeremy’s response was low but unhesitating: “I will not look away.” ​“I do not want you to look.” ​It frightened him how much it sounded like a lie,

-

only redeeming part of this chapter is that neil’s back but i’m still in so much shock over what’s just happened that i cant properly appreciate him

chapter 17 the finale:

feeling incredibly somber as i reach the end of the book

please god destroy anyone who has ever hurt jean moreau

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nora’s really filling in all the plot holes left from aftg - why did nobody question why neil’s hair was dyed after evermore ????? why did nobody question neil being at evernote in the first place???

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i’m laughing at neil’s map print-outs he’s so uncool, also i keep forgetting this is still meant to be 2007

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jean-yves moreau oh my fucking god

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“says who?” Stuart asked. “The dead kid?

stuart hatford u are so funny, is this where neil inherited is sarcasm from?

stuart hatford says fuck riko and so do i

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Neil shrugged. “Do you have anyone who can take on local work?”

NEIL JOSTEN U ARE MY HERO I LOVE U U BADASS MOTHER FUCKER

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Neil offered her a disarming smile that would never sit quite right on his face.

devouring these scraps about my boy

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YOOOO WTF NORA RLLY JUST WANTED TO GIVE JEAN THE WORST FUCKING DAY HE COULD POSSIBLY HAVE HUH?? JUST DROPPED THE FACT THAT HIS SISTER IS DEAD MY POOR BOY

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Neil filled in the finer details with an ease that would have been impressive to listen to any other day

- yes neil is incredibly smart, thank u jean for confirming to us

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The only thing left to ask for was something he barely understood: “I want to go home.”

oh the complicated nature of home and one’s sense of belonging that persists throughout these books will never fail to make me feel absolutely everything. nora knows exactly what i want in a book

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“I can see the kitchen. There should be a door out to where the dumpsters are. We can make it back to the garage from there.”

to be loved by neil josten is to be offered a way to evade the fbi together

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“Tedious,” Neil said. “I’m trying to eat.”

my hero

Neil waited until he was done before deciding he wanted to finish his drink. Neither agent was impressed with their absolute lack of urgency,

i love u neil josten pls give me ur autograph

Neil, being the person he was, pointed at the fire hydrant adjacent to its front bumper and said, “That’s illegal, just so you know.” ​“Shut up and get in the car.”

i wish neil josten was real

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He couldn’t fear a government who was so easily infiltrated and manipulated

FUCK THE GOVERNMENT

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Neil flipped his takeout box open and started eating. “I’m allowed to visit people.”

he’s everything to me 🥰

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“You’re one to accuse others of intolerable attitudes,” Browning said, and Neil only shrugged indifference.

and—for once—without any of your usual bullshit.”

- browning u love him just like the rest of us don’t lie rn

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ngl i’m never getting over the fact that jean and neil are the same age like this is crazy to me nora whyd u have to do this i cant cope

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“The more people I hold onto, the less of a threat I am, because I won’t want to endanger them by acting out.”

oh neil look how far uve come, i’m so proud

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“Lock your door tonight if it will help, but Grayson will never bother you again.”

THANK U LORD FOR THE BRILLIANT NEIL JOSTEN HES ANSWERED MY PRAYERS U BEAUTIFUL WONDERFUL HUMAN IM SO THANKFUL FOR UR PRESENCE

all my favourite bamf! neil fics have him taking out a hit on someone for the benefit of the people he loves and i’m so glad that’s canon

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i’m going fucjing crazy i didnt think it was possible to love neil anymore than i already do

best friends ❤️

-

jean tearing up and throwing away the notebooks and realising he trusts the trojans and the four of them going to eat one of cats new recipes after they waited up last midnight for him

A COOL EVENING BREEZE RAINBOWS OPEN ROADS AND FRIENDS

!!!!!

I CSNT BELIEVE ITS OVERRRRR I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS HOLY FUCK

[merwynsartblog]

Marco angst fic thing- Reminder im not a writer im shit at writing but im trying to get better with it ^^ color codes bc i color code my shit- marco Kevin streber radford

It was supposed to be the day Marco, Kevin, Rick, Streber, and Radford to go out and hang out!! It was rare when they all could hang out together. Hell Marco was so excited and was so hyped for the day as well! Probably the most excited compared to everyone else But.. Marco wasn't feeling right today. There was no reason for it either!! Her boss didn't yell at her, there weren't a lot of deliveries today and hell she got to be dolled up for once!! Wearing a pretty teal and white dress with some fake diamond earrings with some dark red lipstick. She didn't understand why she was feeling like this. She was sitting on her couch with her black, brown, and white puppy in her lap as she looked at the clock. Her grip on her dress tightened a bit. They should be here any minute.. She couldn't go she knew she would break down in public but god her heart was racing. She never told them no before. I mean she has but this was different. She was dating all of them now. It shouldn't be that big of a deal though! She should be able to tell them no! I mean yeah Jaz never took no but they should.. ..Right?.. What if she was forced to go like how Jaz would make her. What if they try to tell her "its not that bad get up we are going" or what if- Click "Hey Marco?? Are you here?" The door opened and three men came in. Kevin who was in a white hoodie with some baggy blue jeans. His hair was actually brushed instead of the usually messy hair he had going. Radford who wore a green buttoned up shirt with a brown jacket. He had normal glasses which was surprising and some black pants. And Streber who wore some fancy black blouse you would see actors on plays wear and some dark fancy pants. They all stared at her for a few seconds which caused marco to look away and they all snapped out of it. "W..wheres rick?"

"Hes driving us."

"Oh.."

God her tone was so off.. She was so scared to tell them she couldn't go god just get the hint please don't make her say it-

"Are you ok? Do you need a minute?"

God damn it they noticed she was off. It took a minute as she felt like she was going to throw up. "I-...im fine.. Um.. would you mind if i don't go? I mean i know yall were excited but i just.."

She looked down at biscuits as she patted her. She already was ready to take back what she said. she didn't want to get yelled at anyways- "Nah its fine dude!! We can have a guys night! Besides we never really hung out with Streber!"

Wait...what? They weren't even questioning why? "Yeah we don't mind! Besides you been working a lot anyways"

"Y..you sure?.."

"Yeah!!"

Marco looked up at them and before she could say anything they took turns kissing her forehead.

"Just call us if you need anything ok hun?.."

Marco just froze.. That was something Jaz usually said when he was mad but she couldn't speak or move except nodded her head. Trying her best to look fine.. Radford went out the door since he didn't notice anything but Streber went over and hugged her. "You sure your fine?.." "Mhm.."

Streber and Kevin knew how stubborn she could be so they just gave their goodbyes and reminded her to call if they need anything before leaving and her being left alone.. she teared up a bit. They..werent going to do anything bad right.. They weren't mad at her saying no right?... She moved the pooch off her lap before getting up and checking the window to see the car was gone... They weren't upset right?.. They shouldn't be. But Jaz was sweet for a few months before being awful.. What if they were like that. What if they were waiting for her guard down to hurt her or even- ... Her mind was racing with these thoughts now she fucked up she messed up now something bad is going to happen and its all her damn fault. She went to her room and locked the door before hugging herself and crying into her knees while trying to cover herself up the most she could...

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have this lmao

no good ending or nada @mayisgoingnuts (idk who else wanna see my writing vfhbvdhj

[byneddiedingo]

Michael Keaton in Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) (Alejandro G. Iñárritu, 2014)

Cast: Michael Keaton, Zach Galifianakis, Edward Norton, Andrea Riseborough, Amy Ryan, Emma Stone, Naomi Watts, Lindsay Duncan, Merritt Wever. Screenplay: Alejandro G. Iñárritu, Nicolás Giacobone, Alexander Dinelaris, Armando Bo, based in part on a play by Raymond Carver. Cinematography: Emmanuel Lubezki. Production design: Kevin Thompson. Film editing: Douglas Crise, Stephen Mirrione. Music: Antonio Sanchez. 

So, on a repeat viewing, does Birdman hold up as the triumph of style, technique, and performance that won it a best picture Oscar, or is it seriously undermined by pretentiousness and banality? That it is undermined I can't deny, just as I can't deny that the style of Kevin Thompson's production design and Antonio Sanchez's drum score are fresh and powerful, that the technical wizardry of Emmanuel Lubezki's cinematography and the film editing of Douglas Crise and Stephen Mirrione provide a seamless flow that appears to be one long tracking shot through most of the film, and that Michael Keaton, Edward Norton, and Emma Stone give career-landmark performances. But I also have to say that I don't think the movie adds up to enough. As Richard Brody observed in his New Yorker review, Iñárritu even courts comparison to Jean-Luc Godard in the opening titles of his film -- a disastrous comparison to my mind, because whatever his faults, Godard was always going against the grain of conservative politics and social attitudes. Iñárritu is attempting a satire on the power of popular culture and celebrity to foul up even the best-intentioned attempts at doing something different. The problem is that his protagonist, Riggan Thomson (Keaton), is doing little more than trying to change his public image. He's known as a pop-culture hero from his hit Birdman movies, but like every clown who wants to play Hamlet, he's trying to make a Broadway debut in a deadly serious play he has crafted from a Raymond Carver short story. Naturally, he is plagued with insecurity, and nothing that his family, his crew, his fellow actors, or the busily buzzing entertainment media can break him free of it. There is a good human story here, but Iñárritu and his fellow screenwriters, Nicolás Giacabone, Alexander Dinelaris, and Armando Bo, can't be content to just tell it. Instead, it has to be tarted up with touches of magic realism (the first time we see Riggan he is in his underpants, levitating in his dressing room), and by the unstated fact that Iñárritu has cast as the former Birdman a former Batman. We are in the realm of that tiresome theme, the relationship between illusion and reality, and the screenwriters can't help hammering on the point. Riggan has a sign on his dressing room mirror that says, "A thing is a thing, not what is said about that thing." And Mike (Norton) insists that he has to drink real gin during the rehearsals because Raymond Carver was a drunk and everything else on the set is fake. He even tells Riggan's daughter (Stone) that the only time he is real is when he's onstage. The satire tends toward banality when the film takes as its target the omnipotent critic (Lindsay Duncan) for the New York Times, who is determined, even before she sees the play, to destroy it because she resents a movie star like Riggan invading the sacred temple of the theater. So does the technical finesse of the film make up for these flaws? Only if you're willing to shut off some key parts of your intellect, which is something Godard would never ask you to do.

[sunwoo-hoo]

↣ the boyz reaction to girlfriend being on her period 

↳ a/n: hello lovelies! here it is, my first reaction for the boyz! i honestly feel like this is a continuation to my ‘as your boyfriend’ series. so in each scenario the s/o is already in a relationship with each member. thank you for requesting this anon! i hope you enjoy it. also some of these are a mix of headcanons/scenarios. do not interact if you are under the age of 18. 

↳ genre: fluff, light smut?? & humor

↳ requested? yes

↳ send me your requests here!

↳ word count: 1.5k

↳ the boyz x fem reader

「 Lee Sangyeon  」

you were stressed from work having to work overtime so you didn’t even notice you had your period until sangyeon pointed it out before you had to leave

“darling, i think you’ve started your period” he pointed taking a picture of your jeans to show you 

you groaned having to deal with one more stressful thing this week

sangyeon rubbed your lower back trying to comfort you

“how about you call in sick?” he asked as you nodded 

he’s very sweet giving you anything you need weather its water or adjusting your pillows because of lower back pain 

giving you lots of temple kisses 

「 Jacob Bae  」

he already knows when your period is going to start having downloaded your period tracking app on his phone

always making sure your fully stocked up on pads and tampons before the day it’s suppose to start

even getting you your favorite snacks that aren’t healthy for you 

he just wants to ease the experience as much as possible

when it finally does start he’s rubbing your lower belly kissing your cheek giving you all the praise

“i know it sucks babe, but it’ll be over soon i promise” he murmured

「 Kim Younghoon  」

you period started unexpectedly when you two were watching a movie late at night

you had gotten up to get more popcorn when he noticed the stain on the couch

younghoon called out to you 

“sweetheart, are you okay? you’re bleeding” he declared

you quickly went to the bathroom to check and lo and behold he was right

the worst part was that you were in the dorms and they didn’t have any pads or tampons in sight

younghoon noticed your discomfort and quickly went to the 24/7 convenience store getting everything you needed

when he finally came back you asked why it took him so long 

he then opened the bag where you saw every brand and size imaginable

“i didn’t know which one you used... so i kind of just bought all of them” he said rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly

you giggled thanking him giving him a small peck on the lips

「 Lee Hyunjae 」

when your period started he was a bit annoyed

mostly because you two couldn’t have sex like you always do

but nevertheless he was caring and respectful 

he pretty much gave you everything you needed whether it was medicine for your cramps or something sweet to eat like chocolate

one of your most painful symptoms was your sore breasts

he always offered to rub them but you couldn’t deny the smug look you saw on his face

“don’t worry baby i’ll make you feel better okay?” he said

he starts to rub them in hopes of helping you but eventually he can’t help but suck on your nipple rubbing your other breast with his right hand

your then moaning from pleasure and pain running your fingers through his hair

「 Lee Juyeon 」

juyeon always hated when your period started 

one your symptoms was not wanting to be touched so it made him feel very distant from you 

even though he wants to be close and cuddle with you he’ll try his hardest giving you space

but it breaks your heart to see him upset so you’ll tell him to cuddle with you regardless of your pain

he’ll lay by you but will try his best not to touch you so that he could respect your boundaries

you grab his hand giving the back of it small kisses thanking him 

“i appreciate you being here with me” you whispered

“of course baby, you know i’m always here for you” he promised

「 Kevin Moon 」

you were always a tad bit more emotional when your period started

crying over every little thing

kevin was sympathetic offering anything to tell help you

giving you tissues when you needed it

he tried his best to lift your spirits up playing your favorite songs on his piano 

“how can you cry to pharrell williams song happy?” he lightly teased trying to change the shift in mood

wiping your eyes you replied “i don’t know! this sucks! i just want this to be over with already” you snapped

all he could do was wait it out until it was over

during the week he’ll do anything to keep your emotions in check giving you cuddles and kisses

「 Choi Chanhee 」

he’s honestly a bit disgusted by it all but he knows it’s not your fault since it’s just a part of nature

you always tend to break out during your period making you feel really insecure

so you and chanhee end up doing face masks together to keep them at bay

he’s also treating you like a princess 

getting everything you can possibly need to make your week smoother 

like making sure the heating pad is on so that you can use it whenever you need it 

“here love, sit down for a bit, i don’t want you moving a muscle” he insisted 

「 Ji Changmin/Q 」

having two older sisters he saw the signs before you did telling you not to overwork yourself

when your period finally appeared you were in constant pain barely even moving

curled up on the bed tightly holding onto the sheets changmin was beside you rubbing your head giving it a kiss 

“don’t worry sweetie i’ll get you anything you want okay?”

over the next week he was always keeping tabs on you making sure you had everything you needed 

he always made sure to ask if you had extra pads/tampons before you went out to avoid accidents

you couldn’t have been more thankful for him

「 Juhaknyeon 」

you always knew when your period was about to start because you always had trouble sleeping a few days prior 

one particular night you and juhaknyeon were sleeping together when you kept tossing and turning

you decided to get up to get a snack feeling a slight tingle in your lower abdomen

sitting on the kitchen island you nearly jumped when you felt juhaknyeon’s arms around you

“you okay baby? i was worried when you weren’t in bed” he said

you smiled softly “yeah.. it’s just i think i’m getting my period soon” 

“aw, well you know i’ll be here for whatever you need” he reassured kissing your neck 

moving your neck to the side so that he could have better access 

is when you felt it, that familiar feeling of wetness in your panties 

you then stopped him giving him an apologetic look before he joked

“damn, what a buzzkill” 

「 Kim Sunwoo 」

fuck fuck fuck you thought as you looked at your period calendar

you were late 

for the most part you were pretty careful when it came to sex with sunwoo but he just couldn’t help but cum in you sometimes

you always made sure to get the plan b pill the next day 

but you were thinking a couple of weeks back

did you take it like you were suppose to? 

you decided to tell sunwoo the minute he came home from practice

as he walked in through the front door he gave you the biggest of smiles finally seeing the person he loved most in the world

you gave him a worried look before you told him that you needed to talk

“sunwoo... my period, it’s late i-i don’t know why we’re usually safe..” you rambled practically on the verge of tears

his face turned serious grabbing your hands

“let’s go get a test okay? just to be sure” he whispered 

once you got the pregnancy test you waited anxiously for the results sunwoo’s hand in yours 

“baby i just want you to know that if it’s positive you know i’ll be there for you no matter what, i love you and a positive test won’t change that” he assured you pulling you close giving you a kiss on your forehead

when the test turned out to be negative you couldn’t help but notice sunwoo’s disappointment 

a couple of days later your period finally came

「 Eric Sohn 」

usually your energy matched his but when he noticed  you were feeling down and sleeping more than usual he was confused

it wasn’t until you told that him that you were on your period he finally realized

he’s definitely calling his mom asking how he could help you in any way he can since he’s not familiar with it 

even getting advice from the older members

he’s then giving you everything you need

tea, water, heating pads and a fan since you were sweating

“do you have everything you need babe?” he asked as you nodded padding the bed so that he could lay next to you 

he put his arm over you whispering 

“goodnight [name], i love you i’ll be right here if you need anything okay?” 

you hummed before drifting off to sleep in eric’s arms

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* © sunwoo-hoo 2 0 2 1  ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[91percentpynch]

lonely heart - kevaaron au pt 4

oh look it‘s me, coming out of my dark hole to make you suffer with a super sad chapter with a nasty cliffhanger:) so get your tissues ready and enjoy!! okay first of all sorry that i didn‘t update this in a g e s and that it‘s rather short and for the cliffhanger, but i‘ll try to update it more regularly now:)

check this out for the other parts:)

trigger warnings: drug abuse, mention of suicide, mention of mental health issues, very sad aaron, mention of blood

“You were too good for me”, Aaron whispered into the void. “You were way too fucking good for me. You made me a better man. And I fucked up”

Aaron got up as he felt the tears burning in his eyes. He knew he wouldn‘t be able to sleep alone tonight. Like every single goddamn night since he left Kevin. Like every single goddamn night since he made the biggest mistake of his life.

„Taylor?“, the blonde haired boy murmered, „You up?“

„Babe, you know I‘m up. My girlfriend lives three states away, we talk every single day at the same time as you call your man. Not that I would be able to sleep when you call him, cause a) i love Day and b) you‘re always sad and high and end up in my room anygays, so did he take the phone darling?“

Taylor was Aaron‘s roommate and the closest thing he had to a best friend. She had been there for him every single day, cuddled him, held him while he cried and dried his tears afterwards. And Aaron did the same when she misssed her girlfriend too much.

„You do realize he is not my man anymore, I fucked that up. Big time. He did actually take the phone just to tell me to fuck off and stop calling“

„You could always go over there and say it in his pretty face. Didn’t say you can’t come over did he?Pro point: Might lead to making out“, Taylor said while taking him in her arms. „Plus another pro point: you‘d get sober again. And you‘re less moody. No offense but a Kevin-less Aaron is hardly managable, like you‘re either a whiny little bitch or you‘ll give me the death glare of the cenutry. Legit worse than Andrew‘s and I called him a cute little baby boo once when I was drunk and he almost stabbed me right there with a look on his face like I just murdered Neil in front of him“

„Tay, I take that as a compliment. And we both know Kevin’s a bit of a dumbass so he did not exactly tell me Not To Come over just stopp calling. Anyways I don‘t even know where he lives. And stop talking about me getting high, you do the same shit“

„Yeah but I know my limits and I have not the same history as you. And for the i DoN‘t EvEn KnOwS wHeRe He LiVeS, phone number. Now“

„O- okay“, Aaron said and told her Kevin‘s phone number while Taylor calmingly stroked his back.

„Neat, got him“, Taylor said after a while. „He‘s with the scary big dude and his adorable little boyfriend I think? I have their address right here, I think we‘re gonna visit them tomorrow cause it‘s like 4 am right now and we don‘t wanna rob him his beauty sleep plus we don‘t want to wake the scary big dude. And I‘m pretty sure the adorable small golden retriver boy could and would stab us“

„Did you just stalk my ex and located his phone at 4 am like fucking Garcias in Criminal Minds?“, Aaron said confused.

„Anything for you big guy. And as I said I miss Day‘s pretty face, preferably in your pretty face so you shut the fuck up about how stressed and depressed and lonely you are.“, Taylor chuckled as Aaron looked at her shocked.

„Well I miss Casey, preferable in your face so YOU shut up“, Aaron was never as good in witty remarks as his brother. Especially high Aaron.

„Babe I think it‘s time for you to go to bed, you‘re not fun when you‘re sad, high and tired. Come here, let me cuddle you, while you whiney little bitch sleep“

Aaron slowly went over to Taylor and into her loving arms, laying down, trying to fall asleep.

After a long while aaron drifted into sleep, just to be greeted by familiar smaragd eyes. In his dream Kevin and he never broke up. Kevin was on top of him, his hands gently discovered Aaron‘s body, touching him as if he was sacred, something to worship. Kevin‘s lips were at Aaron‘s ear whispering sweet nothingness. Aaron‘s hips moved against Kevin‘s loving touch. „Stress release“ Kevin called these holy moments in dawn. „Highlight of my day“ Aaron called them.

The dream was as beautiful as it was cruel. It was as if his body, his mind were as much refusing as able to believe that Kevin was gone. It was his own fault, Aaron knew it. But the ever present voice of his mother, disapproving and disgusting, in his head was just too much for him to handle. He thought - foolish as Aaron was - that the pain of living without Kevin would be better, less cruel, less painful. But he never knew real love and therefore never experienced its lost. Until that faitful day. Until Kevin took his bags and left.

Aaron was used to pain. The hot one after an extraordinarily vicious hit. The cold one when his mother died. The numbing one when the hunger was growing more and more unbareable. But nothing was even slightly as hard to handle as the loss of Kevin in his life.

Kevin was the first good thing Aaron had. He gave him a will to stay, to try, to give this stupid sport everything he got. And Exy turned into more mundane things like getting his eating routine under control or getting a more or less acceptable sleeping schedule. The dark days were still there, for both of them, and they would probably never leave them completely alone, but they got less. And when they did happen they would hold each other together.

Ever since he fucked up things with Kevin, Aaron had more and more dark days. The voice of his mother telling him he‘s a failure, the bored stare of his brother and Aaron convincing himself Andrew wouldn‘t even bet an eye if he died, the voice telling him the world would be a better place without him growing louder and lourder every passing day.

Logically he could say that the death of a single person wouldn‘t change much for the over all world population, expect maybe it‘s some kind of insane mademan dicator or someone important, but still. It made sense. All he did after all was fucking up, being a failure, never good enough, never perfect.

His lonely heart only screamed Kevin‘s name and he knew if Kevin didn‘t take him back, his life wouldn‘t make much sense anymore. Well he would definetly not tell Kevin that. He would not manipulate Kevin into loving him, because that wouldn‘t be much better than not having him at all.

Aaron woke up the next day around noon. He didn‘t really feel like getting up, like getting up was simply too much. But Aaron knew he had to. He didn‘t want to worry Taylor more than he already did. And it would end today. One way or the other.

So he got up, put on the first pair of black jeans he could find and the first sweater his hands could find. Ironically it was one of the sweaters Kevin gave him, on the third of december last year. It was one of Aaron‘s favourites as well.

„Ready for the big Day, small guy?“, Taylor said winking at him.

„Not really? What the fuck am I supposed to do there anyways?“, Aaron replied on his way to the coffee maker.

„Talk to him? Deliver one of those borderline cringe big speeches. Get im flowers. Break into his bedroom and say ‚Draw me like one of your french girls‘, naked of course“, Taylor laughed at the face Aaron made, listening to her suggestions.

„I think I like the big speech. I mean I‘m shit with words, but I‘m sure you want to help your boy getting ‚his man‘ back, right? Also what kind of flowers would you give someone you dumped cause the voice of your dead mother told you it was wrong and disgusting, which you never told him for obvious reasons?“

„Honey, you‘re so fucked up sometimes, I love you but you should go to a therapist or something. Also I‘d say sunflowers or roses? I don‘t speak flowers man, I‘m the tech nerd. Not the romantic one, the nerd. But we‘re gonna make a snazzy speech and you‘re gonna get your man back“

After their typical breakfast - if Aaron didn‘t forget to eat again - they sat down together on the living room floor, paper and pen ready, trying to write the world changing speech.

„Why is this so fucking hard? Why can I only tell him how much I love and miss him when I‘m high off my ass“, Aaron complained.

„What about you don‘t think about him that much. Just tell me what you love about him and then we write that down?“, Taylor suggested.

Aaron took a deep breathe and closed his eyes. „I loved him because he was the first one who saw me. Aaron Minyard. And not just the other Minyard, the lesser twin, the shadow of Andrew. He looked at me and somehow chose me. Even if he could have had everyone else. He chose me, even though I‘m not special. Kevin chose the failure when he could have had the first prize. He looked at me and saw something worth loving, worth keeping around. Hardly anyone could tell Andrew and me apart. But it took him less than a day to do so. Kevin is strong, so so strong and somehow chose the most fragile thing he could find, took it and made it worth soemthing. Kevin made me feel something. Not numbness. Not pain. Something warm and beautiful and living. He gave me a reason to stay alive. Kevin made my life bearable, he made my life beautiful. We were both broken and we would probably still be broken if we were together but we softened each other‘s edges. Kevin believed in me when no one else would. He knew how I felt, knew what I needed and when I needed it. Kev gave me love and safety and I kicked it with my feet. This man is like a god who fell for whatever reasons for a homeless man. And I know I don‘t deserve him but I also know I cannot live without him. And I know that I must tell him that before it‘s too late. If it‘s not too late already“

Taylor wipped a tear out of her eyes. „That‘s it. You tell him that and we‘ll get him back“, she said. „Can I hug you?“

„Sure you loser“

„Ah there is my boy“

They spent the rest of the afternoon writing down the speech, making edits here and there. In the end Aaron collected the pages and went to his room to change. He replaced Kevin‘s sweater with a simple black jumper, put on his Docs, got his keys and left.

Aaro did feel a little uncomfortable, stalking Kevin like that. But he knew this was his chance to fix things. This was his chance to get Kevin back, to make his life worth living again. Which to be fair was a bit selfish, but you are allowed to be a little selfish sometimes, aren‘t you?

Jean and Jeremy‘s apartment complex was a 15 minute drive away from the flat Aaron shared with his three roommates. Theirs was fanzier, obviously. After all Jeremy was a professional Exy player and Jean was some kind of semi famous artist or fashion maker or whatever. They could give Kevin the world. They could give him what he desereved. All Aaron had to offer was an apology and his love. No money. Not yet anyway. Just anxiety, depression and stress.

But if Kevin was willing to take his love, to give Aaron one more chance, he promised himself Aaron would make it count. He will tell Kevin how much he loves Kevin every single god damn day. Aaron will get therapy and work on his issues. Sober up and this time for good. He will do anything to be worth of god‘s love. Just that god in his case was a twenty two year old boy with black hair, forming soft waves at the end and a smile that will make the sun jealous. Eyes made out of smaragd. Lips so sinful and kissable.

Aaron sat down in front of the door, waiting for his courage to come back to him. He could do this. He would get his man back.

Hours passed, or maybe it were only minutes or seconds after all before someone came closer. Ever so slowly Aaron lifted his head, just to look in the ever so familiar green eyes, big with shock.

„You said to stop calling. You never mentioned face to face conversations“, Aaron said, his voice hoarse.

Kevin stared at him as if he was a ghost, a reminder of his past life, something he rather wanted to forget.

„Look I know I fucked up. I know I‘m not good enough for you. I know you deserve the world and I cannot give it to you. And when you look me in the eyes and tell me you don‘t feel anything for me anymore, no love or hate or affection or whatever humans feel, I will turn away right now and go and never come back. Never bother you again. But if you allow me to apologize, if you however decide to gieve me one last chance, I prepared this whole ass speech for you“

Aaron was sure they could hear his heart beating against his chest, roaring, screaming to return home. To return to Kevin where it belonged.

Kevin‘s eyes wandered to the floor, his fingers automatically closed around his left wrist. A nervous habit. Just another little part that makes Aaron‘s heart ache.

Slowly, almost painfully slowly, he lifted those unbelieveable beautiful eyes and met Aaron‘s golden ones. Kevin studied him and the world around them stopped.

Out of the corner of Aaron‘s eyes he could see Jean going still, his breathing too calm, too even. It‘s the same thing Andrew does when someone fucks with Josten. At least his death would be fast. Or slow. Whatever. Aaron didn‘t really care, without Kevin it wasn‘t worth anygthing anyway.

„Why“, Kevin said after what feels like forever, „Why would I forgive you? Why would I give you another chance? Why would you think you can come back here just to fuck me over again? Aaron I loved you, I really did. I always will. You were my first love and maybe, yeah maybe, my last one. But right now I can‘t. I just, I just can‘t. Please leave. Please leave me alone. For now. Maybe, one day we can talk about it. But right now I cannot handle the thought of you to leave me. To tell me all these beautiful lies, to cut me open and leave me to bleed out. I love you“, tears were running down Kevin‘s cheek. Tears Aaron one day, a long time ago, promised himself he would never let Kevin feel again. Pain. Sadness. Everything because of his failure, because of his weakness, because he‘s a fucking piece of shit.

„Thank you for giving me a reason to stay. Jusst remember that you were my light, my warmth, my happiness and I never stopped loving you. Never will. Please just be happy“, Aaron replied as he turned around to walk to his cars.

When he was sure he was out of ear shot, he let himself feel. Feel the pain. Feel the loneliness. Feel the numbness and the cold and the hatred. It was in that moment, that moment where he was alone and nothing more to lose, that he decided that it was enough. He would end it. End it tonight.

„Thank you“, he texted Taylor. „I‘m glad I didn‘t eat you in the womb“, he texted Andrew. „You were not so bad after all“, he sent to Neil. And lastly „Thank you for taking me under your wing“, to Nicky. They would understand. It would take them some time but in the end they would feel better. They would be happier without them. Because at the end of the day he caused them pain and wasn‘t really worth a thing.

So when he got in his car, tears running uncontrallably down his cheeks, he knew what he had to do.

[nnnnoooooooooooo]

My Ballot for They Shoot Pictures, Don’t They?’s 25 Favourite Films Poll

The following is my ballot for They Shoot Pictures, Don’t They?’s poll for their readers’ 25 favourite films of all-time. It contains a dozen or so favourites, several compromises, and a handful of personally foundational texts.

Seven Chances (1925, Buster Keaton): It ain’t easy to only choose one Keaton. This is one of Keaton’s films with a racist blackface character, which gave me some reservations. Still, this is a solid contender as his funniest picture, and, more importantly, this is Buster as I love him the most. Keaton’s characters were always the most cerebral and lost, keen observers with no understanding. An inability to communicate one’s emotions drives the need to convert it into a physical experience; Keaton inevitably becomes the object that cannot be stopped. His full forced desperation and athleticism, he is a master of locomotion. Featuring the finalization of the chase gag, along with a generous serving of his brand of surreal.

City Lights (1931, Charles Chaplin): Comedically and emotionally devastating.

Trouble in Paradise (1932, Ernst Lubitsch): Lubtisch’s portrayal of Continental aristocracy on the cusp. Containing love, melancholy, desire, rivalry, loyalty, betrayal, criminals, and thieves-- all saved by his grace alone, achieving a rare bliss of comedy and romance. Normally, I’d say that, in a temporal world, perfection exists only as a process, but then how would I explain this?

La grande illusion (1937, Jean Renoir): In the best of Renoir’s films, I find a type of harmony I find lacking in the rest of the world.

La règle du jeu (1939, Jean Renoir): In making this list, I never doubted either of these Renoir films having a place. Now, trying to write about my list, I find myself becoming frustrated at not finding the words to explain why I chose them. I’ve never been a great communicator, and I doubt that’s Renoir’s fault. I think it’s best for me to move on before I start misplacing my frustrations with my inability to write onto the film itself.

How Green Was My Valley? (1941, John Ford): Possibly the greatest movie ever made under Hollywood’s Studio System, and perhaps the closest we’ll ever get to seeing what Hedy Lamarr might have seen in John Loder. More than any other actor, Sara Allgood carries this film, in her role as the matriarch of the Morgan household. This is chock full of great character actors and moments as you’d expect from Ford. It’s the magic of childhood, the safety of the womb, the cyclical nature of a town where nothing ever seems to change, and the devastation of entropy. I lost track of how many times I cried.

To Be or Not to Be (1942, Ernst Lubitsch): This is my choice for a comedy from the 1940s, despite stiff competition from Hellzapoppin’, and the 11 movies Preston Sturges released over the decade. I had the privilege of seeing this at my local Cinemateque with an introduction by Kevin McDonald. I was late, and the audience had already begun to talk back. He rolled, and we were soon laughing before the “projectionist” could hit ‘play’ on the Blu-Ray. My friend came later. It was a packed house, so we weren’t able to sit together. I enjoyed hearing the variances in people’s response*, and the timing of their laughter. Trying to pinpoint my friend’s laughter from the crowd, I couldn’t help but hear our host’s generous laughter throughout the film. What a joy it was for all of us to experience this film together. I guess I haven’t had a chance to share those other movies the way that I was with this one. *A nice change of pace, as this usually makes me self-conscious

Shadow of a Doubt (1943, Alfred Hitchcock): I find Hitchcock’s women’s pictures to be some of his richest texts. Besides which, any film asking me to sympathize with Theresa Wright already has a lot going for it. Alongside The Wrong Man as Hitchcock’s most tragic film.

Brief Encounter (1945, David Lean): My favourite romance, whatever that says about me. A passionate extramarital affair between Laura Jesson (Celia Johnson) and Dr. Alec Harvey (Trevor Howard), told in flashback. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this placed among noirs, but I think this could be an example of a women’s film noir. There’s a thick sense of transgression and fatalistic mise-en-scene, along with an inability to escape, which ends the film on an unconvincing return to safety.     After the two lovers part for the final time, Johnson returns home. Her husband, Stanley Holloway, asks for nothing, and expresses gratitude for her return. However, for all of that loveliness, Johnson has learned that the world is far more fragile than she ever dreamt. The husband is portrayed as a bit childlike, and, coupled with the affably stiff upper-lipped nature of their marriage, Johnson is unable to confess what’s occurred, which only preserves her turmoil. Unable to consummate, sustain, or forsake her romance with Howard, she may find some refuge with her husband, but salvation eludes her.

Out of the Past (1947, Jacques Tourneur): RKO Pictures, film noir, Jacques Tourneur, and Robert Mitchum– These are a few of my favourite things. As a prude, I don’t care to admit that I love cigarette smoke in B&W pictures as much as I do, and it’s deployed here to its zenith, courtesy of Nicholas Musuraca’s cinematography. Daniel Mainwaring’s script, along with Tourneur and Mitchum, use underplay in order to create a heightened effect. Mitchum’s somnambulism grants his portrayal of Jeff Bailey an omniscient cool, which extends to his character’s bisexuality. There’s such delight in hearing Mitchum, one of the best voices in movies, deliver the film’s lyrical dialogue in his disaffected baritone.

The Big Heat (1953, Fritz Lang): Perhaps Lang’s most cynical film? The culmination of all his conspiracies. The law vs. criminals, no longer as separate from one another, but as sides of the same coin: the establishment. Sergeant Bannion (Glenn Ford) engages in total war against Lagana’s (Alexander Scourby) crime syndicate. Those caught in between end up as collateral damage, pawns in their game. Each dismantles the family unit, Lagana disposes of Bannion’s wife (Jocelyn Brando), and Bannion displaces his child, so that both sides can carry on unfettered. The happy ending finds Bannion happily back at work in the homicide department, where they’re informed of a grisly murder. Oh boy, here we go again! Gloria Grahame, a sister under the mink, reigns as my favourite actress in all of film noir.

The Sun Shines Bright (1953, John Ford): It’s not easy to film a miracle, a feat for which I’d pair this with Carl Th. Dreyer’s penultimate film, Ordet. Speaking of Dreyer, if you have 15 minutes to spare, here’s a great video of Jonathan Rosenbaum discussing this movie alongside Dreyer’s final film, Gertrud. The responsibilities and limitations of society. Communities are built through sacrifice, as we give of ourselves, which accounts for the film’s sometimes funereal tone. One’s resting spot as the place to make a stand, but what good is taking a stand if it doesn’t lead anywhere? Our redemption lies not in preserving ourselves, but in guiding the world to a place that no longer needs us. Thus, not a dying world to save, but an understanding that we must pass in order to bring about renewal. Funerals become parades, and parades become funerals, as we walk the strait and narrow path between tradition and progress. Don’t take a stand while the world marches on, but lead us into thy rest.

The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T (1953, Roy Rowland): This is a musical written and designed by Dr. Seuss, which is to say that I think you oughta see it. Still, it’s hard to justify why I chose this over The Band Wagon. I’d probably better enjoy watching The Band Wagon, which I’d wager is Hollywood’s greatest musical, but there’s something about The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T that gets under my skin. I saw it on television when I was very young. Old enough to remember seeing it, but too young to remember more than three details: twins joined at the beard, the nightmare-inducing elevator operator, and a large piano requiring an exponential amount of fingers. This forgotten foundation, along with its Seussian imagery, grants the film a dreamlike feeling. Just as every good boy deserves fudge, every Hans Conried deserves a role like the one he has here, playing the titular Dr. T.

The Night of the Hunter (1955, Charles Laughton): A kid’s film featuring the personification of evil, not in Mitchum’s portrayal of the preacher Harry Powell, but in Evelyn Varden’s Icey Spoon. This movie is so full of indelible images that I sometimes forget LOVE/HATE tattooed on Powell’s knuckles. There’s a dreadful unease from the inability to fully save or preserve Ben & Pearl within a society whose systems turn on them so easily. Their safety is drawn and quartered at every turn, and so Ben & Pearl flee society, finding a guardian out yonder. Still, there’s a limitation to their newfound guardian’s protection. Their angel and their demon sing in harmony; evil becomes instructive to the children’s growth. It’s a hard world for little things, but there is hope. Mrs. Cooper (Lillian Gish) manages to find her redemption in protecting these children while she can. Perhaps we need them as much as they need us. This was Charles Laughton’s only film as a director, as well as the final of James Agee’s two films as a screenwriter. It isn’t right.

Sweet Smell of Success (1957, Alexander Mackendrick): This is my favourite film noir, possibly the nastiest as well. Of course, I cackle throughout the entire picture. Burt Lancaster and Tony Curtis at their bests; the tension between a malevolent god and his jester/would-be pretender played as flirtation, conducting assassinations as though they were composing poetry. Shot on location in New York by James Wong Howe, giving us a view of Babel from the gutters up. Also, I’m just a big ol’ softy for Emile Meyer, who plays Lt. Kello.

Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter? (1957, Frank Tashlin): As I see it, this is the best sex comedy of the ‘50s and ‘60s. Tashlin previously worked at Termite Terrace, making Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies, and did a brief stop making Screen Gem cartoons over at Columbia in the middle. After having brought feature film techniques to his cartoons, he brought cartoon imagery into his live-action films. This is a vehicle for Jayne Mansfield, who may have been the most cartoonish of the era’s blonde bombshells, and so it is a happy marriage indeed.

Playtime (1967, Jacques Tati): This is cinema. Ah! Tati, Ah!     Modernity

Out 1: noli me tangere (1971, Jacques Rivette & Suzanne Schiffman): Rivette’s movies feel alive in a way that I haven’t found anywhere else. The films I’ve seen are about conspiracy, games, and the development of theatre troupes: things that exist only in our minds, and are dependant on our cooperation with others. Things get so twisted that you wonder how they’ll ever untie it all, only for the shared illusions to be revealed as a complex series of false knots. I broke my rule with this film, in choosing a film that I’ve only seen once. I didn’t make the time to revisit this or Céline et Julie vont en bateau, my other favourite Rivette film, so I went with the larger labyrinth to lose myself in.

F for Fake (1973, Orson Welles): This is Orson Welles’s most playful film. I love Welles, the personality, almost as much as I love Welles, the director, so I chose a movie that features both.

Mikey and Nicky (1976, Elaine May): Perhaps the most tense and dark comedy I’ve ever seen. May reaches her highest levels of drama here, and does so without any cost to her usual standards for humour.

It’s a Wonderful Life (1946, Frank Capra): I wasn’t sure about including this, given that it’s not even my favourite James Stewart Christmas movie, but what can I do? It’s a Wonderful Life is an institution in my family, we’ve watched this every Christmas Eve since I was grade 6. There was a year or two in the early ‘10s where we might have missed it, but, otherwise, we’ve been devout. This is also one of four sources that laid the foundation for my love of movies, and, in particular, older movies. I hope to continue to watch this every year. It just wouldn’t be Christmas.     Growing up, my brothers and I used to be allowed to open one gift the night of Christmas Eve, which evolved into my brothers and I exchanging our gifts for each other. The first year my brother’s and I exchanged gifts, we happened upon CBC playing It’s a Wonderful Life in a 3-hour timeslot. Filling in the gaps of my memory with ego, I’d say that I instigated our watching it. I was always the biggest sucker for holiday specials, as well as being the most drawn to B&W. It was an instant hit with all of us, and so two traditions were born that night. For those curious as to what year this took place, I gave my oldest brother a 3 Doors Down CD. My older brother got me the Beast Wars transmetal Terrosaur figure. And. It. Freakin’. Ruled.     CBC continued to air It’s a Wonderful Life every Christmas Eve, and we continued to tune in. My brothers and I continued to exchange gifts on Christmas Eve for about another decade, but now my family has a better Christmas Eve tradition to pair with our holiday movie: Chinese food, and, less dogmatically, vegetable samosas. Leftovers become brunch. We’ve watched the movie, I think, twenty times now, which includes one viewing of the unfortunate colourized version, and once in theatres. It’s a great movie to come back to each year. There are lots of little moments, lines, and details to zero in on, and each year I get to internally test and brag to myself about naming and recognizing the various character actors and bit players that pop up.     Still, I sometimes find myself resisting its charms. A couple of years ago, my view of Frank Capra changed. I no longer saw him as the director I had previously thought him to be*. I wondered whether this movie stood on its own merits, or if I was holding onto it for sentimental reasons. I have since settled on this film being a genuine classic.      Another source of resistance is that I’ve never watched this on its own, there’s a lack of an individual foundation to my relationship with the film. I’m so accustomed to viewing films on my own, I think there’s a relief in a taking a private experience, and having it succeed in a public forum. The two support each other, which is part of why a couple of films ended up on this list. However, when it’s a film I’ve only seen in the company of others, I become suspicious of my experience. I believe in the power of cinema when it’s to my benefit, only to doubt it when I fear that it has the power betray me. I guess that I lack faith. *The director I once thought Frank Capra was, I now find Leo McCarey to be.

Doctor Who: The Lost in Time Collection (1963-69, various): This was a last minute decision that ended on a mistake. I ought to have chosen Daleks: The Early Years instead, which has the proper framing of a retrospective documentary. Daleks: The Early Years is a VHS release hosted by Peter Davison, featuring interviews with key people from ‘60s Dalek stories, cannibalizing clips from Dalekmania (another documentary on Daleks in the ‘60s), and orphan episodes and snippets from otherwise lost ‘60s Dalek serials. It’s also one of the VHS tapes that I grew up with, and my introduction to the fact that, at the time, over 100 episodes of ‘60s Doctor Who were missing and presumed lost. This was my introduction to the concept of lost media. Since then, a further 12 episodes have been found, and the number of missing episodes has dropped to 97.      Instead, I chose The Lost in Time Collection, which is a 3-disc collection of orphan episodes and surviving clips from otherwise missing ‘60s serials, not actually a feature in itself. It’s a really nice sampling of the Doctor Who’s best era, and the episodes and clips are sometimes more interesting without the rest of their serial for context. While I didn’t get this collection until I was an adult, I had managed to see most or all of its contents growing up, mostly on various VHS compilations, as well as some clips online. As the deadline for submissions approached, I chose the one I enjoy more, rather than the one that first changed me.     I suspect that Doctor Who was the first work of science-fiction that I got into, as it predates me in our household. My brothers and my getting into Transformers predates my memory, but it does not predate my being around. Doctor Who also served as my first exposure to B&W viewing. I was really into science-fiction growing up, and the genre was really my first interest in older films. The interest didn’t really bridge its way from my youth into my present. Heck, I wasn’t even particularly a movie person until into my twenties. In early adulthood, after fading for a bit, my fondness for science-fiction was more directed towards video games and books. So while it didn’t lead into my love of film and B&W, it laid a lot of the groundwork for what I’d eventually come to love.     My oldest brother remembers staying up late with our parents to watch Doctor Who, and my older brother has memories of trying to stay up with them, but it was no longer airing on any of the stations we had by the time I was kicking. Loved, but unseen, it developed a sort of mythic reputation in my young mind. Over the years, we managed to see a bunch of serials on VHS through our local library system, and we eventually got 5 VHS releases of our own before the decade ended. We got a book, The Doctor Who Yearbook, which had listings and synopsises of every serial ever made. The classic Doctor Who series lasted 26 seasons, consisting of 153 serials, and just shy of 700 episodes. No matter how many episodes of Doctor Who I managed to see when I was growing up, it was only ever the tip of the iceberg.     My younger self liked daydreaming about all of the adventures, planets, aliens, robots, and monsters, but that would begin to dissipate with age. While I loved Star Wars for the many of the same reasons as I did Doctor Who, the advent of more Star Wars wasn’t all that fulfilling, with Episode I: Racer for the N64 PC as a noted exception. More than the fact that I was caught up in the cultural backlash against George Lucas, the lack of a well defined characters and society in the original trilogy was a virtue. The toys and books really capitalized on this. I was the kid that wanted to know every weirdo and background character’s life story. I was such a mark.     The more movies they made that added to the lore, the smaller their galaxy seemed to be, in opposition to an expanded universe. Each piece promising to add to the larger picture only seemed to reveal a smaller whole. More movies telling the same stories with different versions of the same characters. A galaxy that once seemed so vast now revealed to be comprised of maybe two dozen people, many of which are related or connected to each other in some tired and unnecessary way.     Eventually, I got really into Jonathan Rosenbaum, and began to project my ego all over his preferences, to which Star Wars became a victim. I gave up on the series after sitting through a showing of Episode VII. Fires subside, and, these days, I’m mostly indifferent towards the series. Undergraduates can be a bit much, y’know?     While the new Doctor Who series also fell out of favour with me, it was easier for me to divorce it from the original series. Having seen the series only in disparate pieces, rather than a linear narrative may have helped. I have no illusions that the original series is anything more than a silly kid’s show that mostly takes place in corridors, which is a fine thing to be. It’s enough to be a delight. The deceit of nostalgia is that I can return to these works I once loved with the same feelings and wonder that I had as a child.     While I remain fond of Doctor Who, the whole of a serial is often less than the sum of its parts. After all, being a serial, half of the adventure is meant to take place in your head during the week between episodes. It’s the opposite of binge-watch material. It’s hard to commit to working your way through such a bulky series at a deliberately slow pace. Besides, even spacing the episodes out some, it’s still not going to capture my mind the way it would when I was a child. The virtue of the Lost in Time Collection is that you’re never seeing a serial as a whole, only as individual pieces.     The collection consists of 18 complete episodes from 12 serials, with clips and bits from an additional 10 serials. Only one serial has more than two episodes featured, The Daleks’ Master Plan, a 12-part epic, which has its 3 known surviving episodes on the set. Freed from the responsibilities of being part of a larger story, you get to enjoy the pleasures of each episode as its own entity. Charm exists outside of context, and what may have been stretched and strained over half a dozen episodes can easily be sustained in the single episode or two that remains. A piece of Starburst may not keep its flavour any longer than a piece of Hubba Bubba, but at least it has the decency not to overstay its welcome.     The less that remains of a serial, the more interesting it becomes. For some serials, the only surviving clips are the scenes that were cut by censors, and so you’re only seeing the juiciest bits. Protected by obscurity, just as recording in B&W protected this era of the series against its lack of budget, the childlike sense of wonder remains. Any missing serial could have been great. We lack evidence to prove otherwise. What little remains from these serials is enough to imagine what may have been, and it’s easy to give the benefit of the doubt to an old friend.      No longer just a science-fiction adventure, the series has grown into a larger and more engaging adventure in film & television preservation. Thanks to its cultural status and following, questions as to how these stories were lost, why years of episodes were junked, how they were returned, in which disparate places were episodes found, who has been hunting for them, what were their methods, to what lengths did they go, what places remain to be searched, what remains to be found, what’s trapped in the hands of private collectors, and what has been lost forever have all been thoroughly explored, though some answers continue to elude us. For those interested, Youtuber Josh Snares has an extensive series of videos that breaks down many of these questions as best as one can with what’s publicly known, and, despite being on yotube, I don’t think he’s annoying.     Doctor Who best represents my film lover’s sense of discovery, combining the joys of hearing about a film that piques my interest, trying to track a film down, discovering or rediscovering a new favourite, learning about film history, and the efforts of film preservation. Hearing about films I’d like to see can be nearly as rewarding as actually watching the films themselves. The more that I see, the more there is that I’d like to see. The harder something is to find, the more interesting it can become. Film is a physical object, so there is a battle against time for us to discover, recover, restore, and preserve works before they’re lost to time. The good news is that many efforts are being undertaken, both by professionals and by amateurs. The advent of crowdfunding has really helped to create more opportunities for completing these endeavours.     Following an Indiegogo campaign, Netflix stepped in and completed Orson Welles’s The Other Side of the Wind. Many of Marion Davies’s silent films have been restored in recent years. Thanks to the efforts of Ben Model and his team, I will soon have the pleasure of seeing eight Edward Everett Horton shorts that haven’t been in circulation since the silent era. Steve Stanchfield (Thunderbean), Jerry Beck (Cartoon Research), Tommy Stathes (Cartoons On Film), and their cohorts are doing God’s work in finding and restoring old cartoons, and giving them an audience once more. I don’t think there’s ever been a more exciting time to be so out of touch.

The Muppet Movie (1979, James Frawley): The Muppets’ movies were a staple of our household growing up, and this ranks alongside The Great Muppet Caper as the best of them. This movie has a very self-aware humour to it, exemplified by the introduction. The camera wanders through a studio backlot, following a car carrying Statler & Waldorf, who provide us with the first dialogue of the film, announcing their intent to heckle the film. Inside, the Muppets are waiting for a private screening of The Muppet Movie to begin.     It’s a disaster. A monster tears out one of the seats, the visibly deranged Crazy Harry blows up another, people are dancing in the aisles, and chickens are flying about. Objects being thrown include, but are not limited to, popcorn, Lew Zealand’s boomerang fish, and paper airplanes. A full-sized Muppet looms in the background, a giant colourful bird with enormous unblinking eyes, leaning a bit from side to side. An acknowledgement that somebody has let the animals in charge of the zoo. Still, a coziness remains amidst all of the chaos.     Kermit attempts to introduce the movie to his peers, the lights go down, and he takes his seat. The movie opens in the heavens, where the credits and a rainbow appear. It clears onto a long, long shot of a swamp, slowly zooming in to reveal a frog on a log, playing a banjo, singing Paul Williams and Kenneth Ascher’s The Rainbow Connection. We’re taken away.     One of the most vital aspects of the Muppets is that they exist in our world, something that gets lost in their 90’s trend of literary adaptations. An entire world of Muppets isn’t much of a utopian vision, but the idea that these animals, monsters, and whatevers belong in society alongside ‘real’ people is. This trend was part of a larger regression throughout the years with the Muppets. What began as a self-aware humour turned into a self-depreciating humour, and, eventually, a self-loathing humour. The Muppets used to take on the world, but, in later years, they seemed unable to dream of anything more than getting back together once more, so that they could reaffirm their lack of success. Bring them back to life so they can take one more dying breath.     This Muppet movie is filled with celebrity cameos, in part a tribute to their variety show, as well as to the vaudevillian origins of most of their shtick. Here, the cameos serve the Muppets. Later, the Muppets would take a backseat, and become vehicles for others, not even allowed to star in their own movies. I wish they were given better opportunities to shine. As good as this film is, I have to admit that this film’s treatment of Miss Piggy is embarrassingly sexist. While they don’t look like Presbyterians to me, at their best, I think the Muppets have almost as much hope to offer as any religion.

Transformers: The Movie (1986, Nelson Shin): Watching this movie gives me the feeling I always hope that I’ll feel whenever I’ve bought concert tickets. I don’t watch this so much as I sing along to it. I even knew Vince DiCola’s score down to a ‘T’. With all due respect to Storefront Hitchcock, this is my personal Stop Making Sense.

Air Alert V. 4 (late 2000’s, TMT Sports): First, and most importantly, I do not recommend Air Alert nor any other paid for vertical jump program. I cannot stress that enough. They’re not designed by people who really know what they’re doing, the marketing is predatory, they’re unjustly hard on your joints, and they’re methods are not in conjunction with their promises of wild vertical gains. While I hope to stop finding that people have also done Air Alert, I immediately feel a strong kinship with those I learn have also been misled.     Air Alert is a 15-week vertical jump program that makes the dubious promises of adding 8-14 inches to yer vertical leap to everyone, regardless of their current physical condition. It promises to add explosiveness to yer hops, but its means are an exponentially increasing amount of jump exercise repetitions. This is to say that, in practice, Air Alert actually builds jumping endurance, which teaches yer muscles to conserve energy, rather than to expend it in an explosive manner. Like all jump programs, it also fails to address that much of your jumping’s height comes from a combination of your core and upper body strength, as well as technique. The version I got also came with an advertised-as-new Air Alert Advanced, a further 6 weeks of yet more intensive exercise routine to add another 3-6 inches to yer leap.     I did the 15 weeks of Air Alert, and, like everybody else I’ve known, I got 2-3 inches added to my vertical. After the recovery week suggested following completion of the program, I tried dunking at the church. You had better believe that I told my dad to bring his digital camera, ’cause this was gonna be a big deal. Being able to dunk was surely going to usher in a whole new era in my life.     Now, I had been wrong about these sorts of things before. I had become skinny, I got a couple of nice shirts, I listened to what I though was the right unpopular music, and I had stolen some jokes, but my life largely remained the same. It seemed as though my life couldn’t be redeemed by vanity and trivialities, J still wasn’t dating me, but this would be so much more. This was dunking. This was going to be different.     We went to the church, and I had the same problems as before. I could get high enough, but I couldn’t throw down. The further you extend a limb from your core, the less strength it has at its disposal. I had little upper-body strength to begin with, and, fully extended, my hand is pretty far from my body. I’d always lose the ball on the way up, or lose height putting more of my strength onto the ball. Legs can only take you so far. At my best, I’ve brought the ball to the rim, lost it, and, thanks to momentum, had the ball go off of the backboard and in. A lay-up isn’t a dunk. My knees have been crunchy ever since.     After a further month of letting my joints recover, I tried my hand at Air Alert Advanced. After the first week, which consisted of 3 days of 2000 individual jumps, some of my friends reunited to play soccer at our old high school. I was proud to see that the goals we had rescued were still on the field. However, I found that my joints were so worn down that I could only run at a steady pace in a straight line. Turning, accelerating, and decelerating were all, sadly, out of the picture. I decided not to continue onto the subsequent weeks.     I was still a fatuous pauper, single, and working at a shoe store while friends had gone on to do other things, so what did I manage to accomplish? Well, for starters, I gained some athletic ability for the first time in my life, which was neat. I gained a lot of leg strength, endurance, and quickness, as well as the previously mentioned 2-3 inches to my vert, all of which I treasured. Despite being the skinniest guy on the court, my legs were strong enough to anchor me in the key, and contend with guys up to double my weight. I went from being a guy who showed up to Dunkball, to becoming a guy that people wanted on their team.     While others got tired throughout the night, slowly losing their vertical, I managed to jump just as frequently and just as high in my last game of the night as I could during my first. As both the tallest and the lankiest guy at Dunkball, my height advantage now increased in the air. I’d let people box me out, only to jump and reach over them. I felt so free. I was, and remain, Dunkball’s most improved player. Of course, it helps to have the advantage of having started out lower than everybody else. Once, somebody brought a friend who was taller than me. It was awful.     As for dunking? Well, I could dunk small balls at the church, if I could close my hand on them. I managed to dunk a flat soccer ball on an outdoor net at a school yard once, but I never verified its height. I could dunk at the Academy chapel with the rim fully raised, though that rim sags in the front, so I’m guessing that rim was about 9’10”. Still, that won me a game of H-O-R-S-E or two. Sometimes, when warming up for Dunkball, someone would instigate a dunk competition, and I managed to develop a trademark dunk which nobody could replicate or stomach: the underhanded dunk. Norm was the only person not to loathe it, bless his heart. While I never managed to dunk on a proper 10’ net, I was able to goaltend, which has no use outside of being a dick to a friend. I was smarmy enough to do it once.     Even at Dunkball, I never became much of a dunker, except on turnovers or tip-ins, or unless I had a guard who could do the work of setting me up. I’m more opportunistic than aggressive, besides, who am I going to beat off of the dribble? On my worst nights, I was still a tall guy who could jump, so I always drew the interest of a defender. I’ve always preferred defence to offence, and my favourite offensive play is to box out their post-player, either to be in a better position to rebound, or in order to prevent them from goaltending.     Defence is where Air Alert made the most difference for me. They either had to box me out in order to stop me from goaltending, or try banking it in. I could sit low enough to the ground to defend outside players without losing speed. With a lower net, some players didn’t arc their shots as much, allowing me to swat them away with ease.     There was nothing better than blocking a dunk. Some people took it personally, and would try coming at you on the next play; we all loved blocking Joseph. Still, the best was blocking Norm’s dunks, even if it meant landing on my back.     It was summertime, the final game of the night, with uneven teams and lopsided match-ups, but, somehow, it’s neck and neck. Not only are we still in it, we’ve had the lead. Will is shooting, Nathan is hustling, and I’m blocking everything. My greatest defensive game ends prematurely after I block one of Norm’s dunks, landing horizontally, with all of my weight squarely on my tailbone and elbows. I call it a night, and, in the morning, learned that we had lost immediately after I left.     At this point, I had memorized Air Alert’s number of sets and routines, and so I lent the DVD to Graham. He promised to return it soon. This was in 2010. I learned how to juggle that August, but that didn’t save me either. I kept up my jumping exercises, doing week 4 as maintenance, losing consistency once I started university that fall. Dunkball slowly lost consistency, too, and so I eventually took up the reigns of organizing it. People changed wards, got married, moved, and started families. It was hard to motivate people to come out without a guarantee.     At some point, I became one of the veterans. As Dunkball continued to lose consistency, and as I went through occasional bouts of burn-out withorganizing things, Dunkball changed from being year-round into seasons, and, later, patches, of activity. The benefit of being the one to organize Dunkball is that it allowed me to filter out the jerks between patches of activity. There aren’t a ton of rules, you can make a pass off the wall, you can charge, you can play it in the hall, and goaltending is a way of life, but life is too long to spend it with people who can’t play sports without yelling.     We weren’t as athletic as we once were, but the new players were generally pretty skinny, so we were still able to push them around. I stopped buying bus passes after my first year of university, which helped me to maintain most of my leg strength. While I was in university, I managed to keep most of my vertical, but my confidence became precarious, which affected my intensity. I wasn’t soaking through my shirts anymore, I started to let people push me around.     After I dropped out of university, I grew into a much more sedentary lifestyle. The leg strength I had used to define myself diminished. I’ve had a really hard coping with that. At times, the prospect of playing Dunkball felt more embarrassing than motivating. I felt lost out on the court. I didn’t feel strong enough to bump around in the key, and I felt sluggish trying to play on the outside. Still, I had now been around long enough that I was able to lead a team, if necessary.     I’d hide from my refuge until I felt strong enough to return. Volunteering and winter each got me walking again. Collin organized a soccer team the summer before the pandemic, which got me running and jumping again. I felt more determined, and began to feel better. No longer trapped by where I was, or where I felt I should have been, I was content with making progress.     I think that I handled the early months of the pandemic better than most people. With our usual routines in disarray, I stumbled out of the feedback loop I was caught in. Finding some self-compassion and focus, I created structure to my quarantine in order to work on some goals. I was going to come out of the quarantine dunking. I was joking this time, but I need to dream about something while exercising. Otherwise, I’m just jumping in place, staring at the door. I went through weeks 1-7 of Air Alert, ending with the rest week that marks the halfway point. After which, I returned to doing week 4 to maintain strength.    With churches closed, activities cancelled, and others on lockdown, I started secretly meeting Nik on Saturdays to shoot the ball around. This was back when we were allowed to keep small circles of contacts. The benefit of having keys. The only downside was that the building didn’t have any air circulation outside of facilities management’s offices.     Regarding the pandemic, our city still didn’t have any cases of community transmission. Two of us shooting the ball around became three, and soon we were playing 2-on-2. Dunkball was back, baby! Sans the titular Dunkball, which had gone missing, stolen by missionaries.    I knew that it was only a matter of time before they got rid of the Academy chapel, so I was really motivated to play as much as we could while it was still safe. It took us a little bit before we managed to get six players out on the same day, and we still ended up playing 2’s some nights. We weren’t getting many guys out, but we always had good games. Everyone who came out hustled and was a solid atmosphere guy. We’d mostly play best-of-5 or 7 game series, maybe switching teams up for a final game or two. The series managed to stay pretty tight, with nobody ever reaching a dynasty.     Facilities management leaves the building at 5:30, and, with nobody else around, our secret combination was free to schedule Dunkball whenever we pleased. We were playing twice some weeks. We were able to accommodate people’s schedule. Marvin, my favourite teammate, was able to come out. I hadn’t been able to play with him in years. A high percentage of our small group of players were relatively new to the game. It was really exciting to see them develop, even if Jason blocked me that one time.     I had found my place again, having regained some of my leg strength and quickness. My core and upper-body strength, elusive at the best of times, had become memories, but I worked around that. My game is mostly designed with those absences in mind anyways. Consequently, my play became much more lateral, rather than vertical, after the 4th and, later, 5th game, as Collin noted. I also managed a new trick or two, like learning to bait people into banking their shot, and then blocking it off of the backboard for a quick turnover. My intensity was up, or at least the A/C was down. I was soaking through my shirts again, and I was happy.     It was a hot and humid summer. I missed Jason’s birthday, so I brought some blackout chocolate banana bread to celebrate. As it turns out, a thick moist cake is not refreshing when you’re exhausted and sitting around in a hot and stuffy room you’ve spent the past 2-3 hours further heating up with yer friends. Collin became the MVP the following week when he brought a box of freezies with him. All my life, I had never seen their true worth or potential. I took them for granted in my youth, and turned my nose up at them as I grew older. Now I understood.     I had Dunkball, I had friendly players who responded when I tried organizing things, we had freezies, and, as the Ward Clerk, I had convinced my Bishop that we should buy a new ball (despite the fact that playing at the Church was still verboten.) I was grateful, but I still longed for a day where we had more than 4-6 players, so that we could have subs between games. It’s nice to be able to switch up teams between games, rather than trying to push Arles all night. It’s even nicer to sit down every once in a while, especially after failing to push Arles around.     Our province was still fairly safe, but that was beginning to change. Two regulars had at risk family members, and we began seeing community transmission. I planned to end what was to be the penultimate season of Dunkball after Labour Day. I was concerned what would happen once the school year started.     Before then, we had eight* people come out to Dunkball one morning. Four pairs of family members, in fact. This gave us rotations between games, and a variety of playing styles, leading to more interesting match-ups and dynamics. Whoever loses would get to take a break; excitement was in the air! I questioned Collin’s choice of shoes. He reminded me that I’m solely responsible for their condition. I lend Collin my shoes. He likes the shoes, and I like his freezies. *the ideal amount is 8-9 people     Shoot for teams: Graham, Collin, and I hit our shots. Collin has speed, Graham has range and strength, I have the height, and we all rebound. We win the first game easily, manage to survive the second, and win our third. Dynasty! Shoot for teams again, and I’m back on the floor with David and Marvin. David anchors the key, allowing me to cheat on defence, while Marvin generates offence and creates mismatches. We all defend. Three more wins, and it’s another dynasty! Marvin and I sit this time, and watch as Jacob (handles), Graham, and Jason (positioning) steal the game.     Marvin and I go back on with Limhi, a guard heavy team playing an post-player’s game. They shoot and pass, drawing out the defence, while I set picks, prevent goaltending, and try to clean up on the boards. They cover the outside, while I guard the inside. When the other team goes to the inside, I make their post-player turn away from the net, where either Marvin or Limhi, cheating off of their man, are waiting to strip them of the ball. We win the first game, taking back the floor. They carry me through the second. Last game of the day, and the other team starts to fall apart. As per tradition, we extend the game, but only to to 15, because only Graham and I want to play to 21.     We stumble as they regroup, but Jacob gets frustrated, and their chemistry falters. I assume that I’m to blame, become self-conscious, and begin calling fouls on myself whenever I make any contact with the other team. Of course, this happens on every play, because I’m trying to box out my brother. I get some weird looks as David sighs, he just wants it to be over. I get a clean stop, Limhi scores, and the day ends on a third dynasty. I remain undefeated. Freezies for everyone!     That was the third to last time we played Dunkball. We had another night with six players, and ended the season with a morning of playing 2-on-2, after which we ran out of freezies. I was optimistic that we’d be back playing sometime in the New Year. We barely registered a first wave of the pandemic, but restrictions ended prematurely, and school started back up. Cases kept climbing.     I was scared in October, but that was only the beginning. When we first started playing Dunkball that summer, our province was first in the country. By Christmas, we had become the worst. We began to curb the number of new cases, but restrictions were eased before hospitals finished dealing with the second wave. In May, we began transferring patients to other provinces. For some reason, the plan is to reopen in July.     For some reason, a duo tried organizing ball in March. I declined. Our congregation was changing buildings, so Nik and I went over to grab some stuff. I found that our Dunkball had gone missing again, but I found the original Dunkball, which hasn’t held air since 2015, and brought it home. In April, facilities management began clearing out the Academy chapel, in anticipation of listing the building for sale. They didn’t inform our Bishop until later that week. He went over to pack anything worth keeping, only to have found that they had already junked everything belonging to our congregation, as well everything belonging to the Yazidi community group that had been meeting there prior to the pandemic.     I don’t know the building’s current status. Nik and I kept our keys in the hopes of playing again, but it’s unlikely that things will be safe to go back to normal in time. Dunkball exists as a time and a place: Thursday nights after Institute class at Academy. Last fall, they moved institute classes over to the stake centre. The Academy building is being sold now, and Dunkball is over as we know it.     As I previously mentioned, I lent Graham, the Gordie Howe of Dunkball, my Air Alert DVD and booklet back in 2010. For the past ten years now, he has meant to return it, only for it to slip his mind. I usually forget about it, myself, only for him to remind me when he apologizes. In the moment, I sorta feel guilty that he worries about it. I mean, it’s fine, I don’t need it. He’s put it on his desk, he’s placed it by the door, and though he’s either seen me or a member of my family at least once a week for the past decade, my copy of Air Alert still hasn’t made its way back to me. I’m not even sure that I want it back, but I appreciate his sincerity.     It’s become tradition for him to maintain this false tension between us. At this point, I’d hate to see it go. What if this tension is what’s sustained our friendship throughout all these years? What if Graham’s only been coming out to Dunkball because he feels guilty? I won’t see him at Dunkball anymore, and, as of this week, he won’t be seeing me at church anymore. It’s things like this that keep us alive. I hope that Graham never returns my copy of Air Alert, but I hope that he always tries. ”There is no end to matter, There is no end to space, There is no end to Dunkball, There is no end to race.” - If You Could Hie to Kolob Dunkball, by W.W. Phelps.

I could have gone on about my legs, honestly. Now, I only included those formative texts that I’m willing to admit are still a part of me. I did not include those works whose influences I feel that I have repented of, which is why the 1967 Patterson-Gimlin footage of Bigfoot from Bluff Creek, California, The Weezer Video Capture Device, Newsies, The Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny, nor anything related to Dorm Life or MST3K are not included on my ballot. In any case, I’m sorry not to have found room for Johnny Guitar.

[xlady-saya]

Hello! I don’t really use this account a whole lot but I wanted to go ahead and make a pinned post, which I’ll hopefully remember to update frequently lol. Anyways, here’s a collection of the fics I’ve written for aftg, andreil, and others so far ^^

progress comes in small steps series [complete]

and we’re just starting to get it [Rated T, 11.1k]

Neil is nothing and everything all at once, the entire universe for Andrew, however small of a universe that is. Even Aaron is starting to see it, though the pieces still don't line up.

And Andrew is trying to convince Aaron that he's never jealous? Yeah right. You don't spend your entire life being denied, being hurt, going through foster care with nothing to call your own only to be okay with someone else trying to take the one bright piece of life you call yours.

Or, Aaron is done with Andrew's shit and makes it his job to prove his brother wrong.

there’s always more to learn [Rated T, 12.3k]

The subject of Katelyn and Neil hasn't felt like dangerous territory in a long time, but Aaron feels the bomb countdown already coming to an end before Bee even opens her mouth.

"Well, the two of them are so alike," Bee goes on, oblivious to the tension leaking into the space. Her smile is pleasant, teasing. "It just goes to show how you and Andrew have similar tastes despite being so different."

The world freezes on its axis.

Andrew inhales a little too loudly the same time Aaron chokes on his spit. "W-What?"

trust is a slow process [Rated T, 7.3k]

If Katelyn had been stealthier, she could've escaped the crowded dance floor without Andrew seeing her.

But of course, she's no Neil.

Or: Katelyn and Andrew spend some unwanted quality time together, and Katelyn sees things for what they are.

someday there won’t be scowls [Rated T, 8.1k]

Neil finds that even with his mind's best efforts to hang onto the wounds of the past, his opinion of Aaron just isn't what it used to be. He can thank Andrew and Katelyn for a lot of it, but his own observations certainly help.

When he sees Aaron like this, the mix of worry and adoration on his face as he thinks of Katelyn, Neil can't help but feel too exposed himself.

It's a start.

I want this touch to be familiar [Rated E, 38.1k]

Deep down, Andrew knew he would always reach this crossroads, a time where the thought became too strong to ignore.

Going all the way with Neil. It's not something he can continue to avoid thinking about. When Andrew looks back to the days where he held Neil's hands down, when he never got off with him in the same room, he's forced to acknowledge how much he's allowed.

Not allowed. Welcomed. Wanted.

But that’s not all there is to it, and the desire to make a decision finally makes itself known.

if magic exists, you’re the closest thing [Rated T, 16.2k]

The concept of love is not one Andrew understands.

For a long time, it escaped him. It's always fuzzy, always distorted. He'd given up on it long ago, so why is he still chasing answers?

Whatever the reason, he's content to blame Jean Moreau for a lot of things, Katelyn too.

It's their fault he's here, at the happiest place on earth.

this red is for you [Rated T, 10.8k]

Katelyn never considered herself capable of doling out violence.

It has always been a far away thought, dampened by college courses and late night dates with her boyfriend. She lives a stereotypical life, despite everything she's been through with Aaron. Aside from her growing connection with the notoriously troublesome Foxes, nothing much about her life has changed.

Even then, she's learning she's still able to surprise herself. When Katelyn witnesses Neil defending Andrew, her own protective rage rears its head, ready to be explored.

And maybe that's a good thing.

an unconventional crossing [Rated T, 8.1k]

Aaron likes to believe he and Andrew have a lot more practice navigating their conversations now. And he’s right, mostly. But sometimes, challenges arise at the strangest times, and especially when their significant others are concerned.

In which Andrew and Aaron run into each other at the grocery store, and choose not to part ways.

the roads I traveled with you [Rated T, 35.5k]

When his brother gets engaged, Aaron doesn't expect it to send his head spinning as much as it does. Marriage has always felt like a dream, or a nightmare, one he never thought either of them would be able to achieve.

In that moment, Aaron remembers what he's always known, what keeps his head above water. He wants to be with Katelyn forever. That's never been a question. But marriage hadn't been brought up. For so long it was this abstract concept, a fantasy. He'd always reasoned with himself that it would happen, rationally of course it would, but now...

Now Andrew has made the idea a reality, and Aaron has to confront his own wants for his future.

one shots/multichapters

I’ve had a love of my own [Rated T, ongoing]

Despite everything Neil could’ve imagined for his life, he never thought he’d be here, finally giving the world the interview they’ve always wanted.

It’s been decades, but even with his numerous accolades and sports wins, he finds that they’re the least important thing about his life.

Neil can’t help but laugh. Andrew would be so annoyed if he were here.

Of course, Neil only wants to talk about him, and the life they spent together.

slurred [Rated M, 1.6k]

They're not the type of people to give up control, but with each other they're willing to bend the rules.

growing pains [Rated T, 10.6k]

Stuart knows it’s perfectly normal for teenagers to have crushes. That’s why he’s not surprised in the slightest when Neil starts acting strange; lighter, happier. However, what he doesn’t expect is for the crush to leak into his everyday life—or literally take up residence in his house. Or: five times Stuart knew Neil was hiding a nighttime guest, and one time he actually met him.

your hands are mine to hold [Rated E, 6.7k]

It has taken a long time for Thea to accept a lot of aspects of their past. Her eyes track the fear in Kevin's eyes, emboldened by how his own resolve wears it away year by year. She'll never take that sight for granted.

It's hard to ignore the weights on both of them, with their lives so eaten up by the Exy world and memories of the Nest, but one thing has always remained consistent.

Thea trusts Kevin Day with her everything, and she'll never hesitate to follow him into battle.

better than a night light [Rated T, 7.3k]

Neil hasn’t had the chance to examine the feeling of fear in a long time. He’s all too familiar with it though; from the nightmares, to the memories of a cold basement floor, he knows the feeling like the back of his hand.

But this fear is new, loaded with ridiculousness and a complete lack of reason. It’s nothing more than pixels on a screen, far away theories that can’t hurt him like his past can.

Maybe that’s why he’s beginning to not mind it as much. It doesn’t hurt that Andrew is also there to hold him through it.

Playtime [Rated E, 6.7k]

There was a time when Andrew might've questioned being so into this.

Not anymore.

take what you want [Rated E, 5.4k]

Laila has come a long way from her freshman year, past all the worries and pressure to behave a certain way. She never thought she’d realize it here, lounging poolside with her girlfriend.

The urge to seduce Alvarez is just too good to let go.

a product of absence [Rated T, 7.8k]

It’s funny, Andrew thinks, that this would be seen as a curse in any other situation. Two people, thrown apart by time and circumstances, desperately searching for one another.

But Andrew has never doubted Neil’s return. He’s not running, he’s not worried. It’s perhaps the only waiting game that’s been worth it, that he understands, because this bond with Neil has only ever made sense to him.

In another life, Neil made this much clear: they would always find each other in the end.

here I am, there you go again [Rated T, 17.5k]

There's many things about the past Neil chooses to leave behind, and most of the time it's for the best. For some reason though, his brain can't help but cling to the last memories of him.

"My Ex." Neil bites his tongue at the word, because it never feels right. At this point, so many years later, that man is no one. A stranger. He shouldn't presume to know him anymore than his ex should presume to know Neil.

If he remembers Neil at all.

But Neil should know better than anyone that the past always has a way of catching up to him, and this time, he's not as willing to run as he might've initially thought.

losing battle [Rated M, 3.4k]

It's always been Nicky's dream to be closer with his cousins. However, when he opens Andrew's mail to find more than he bargained for, he finds himself regretting the wish. Unfortunately, no matter how much Andrew's warmed up to him in the last few years, Nicky's pretty sure he'll die (literally) if Andrew finds out.

Nicky's mission begins.

temper, temper [Rated T, 3.7k]

"You paid for the deluxe package," Neil says as he scrolls through his payment history to find his client's invoice. His system is simple:

Basic Package: Fuck you. A general statement of displeasure and a brief description of the wrongdoing.

Intermediate Package: Fuck you, with passion. Everything in the basic package, but with additional insults. Customizable for an extra fee.

Deluxe Package: Fuck you to hell. Everything from the first two packages, for an extended period of time, and with extra viciousness.

And it looks like Andrew Minyard is the unlucky soul today.

a new contract [Rated T, 7.2k]

Neil’s request is simple on its face, but infinitely complicated given his history.

“Convince your team to sign me.”

And this was Andrew’s deal: If Neil can prove that he’s serious, that he can build a new life for himself so that he doesn’t end up crawling back to Riko, Andrew will convince his coach to recommend him for recruitment in the fall.

Yes, it was meant to be black and white…

But Andrew should’ve known better. Nothing ever is.

What a Rush [Rated E, 1.6k]

It's always Andrew's goal to stretch Neil's pleasure to its limits, and he's barely begun to scratch the surface.

locked together [Rated E, 8.3k]

Andrew licks his lips and tugs on the tail of the beast inside him, righting it so it can point him in the direction of what he's searching for. Neil looks good on top of him, panting and giddy, and it's rare that Andrew doesn't want to flip them over and make Neil fall apart.

But...every once in a while...

Well, he's relaxed today. He wants to listen, he wants orders, he wants to be controlled so long as the control comes from Neil.

do you like scary movies? [Rated T, 22.5k]

To say Andrew has never seen the benefit in the make-believe would be a lie. However, he finds less and less use for it as he grows older. He especially fails to see the benefits of anything from the horror genre; he’s made plenty of his own mistakes, has seen more than enough to terrify him in his life. He doesn’t need to rely on jump scares and idiotic protagonists.

But when he meets Neil, self-proclaimed horror archivist, he finds that maybe he never gave the genre the credit it was due, and he ends up thanking the dull movies eventually…

They lead him to Neil, the realest thing he’s ever known.

[jumoonjae]

I’LL NEVER LOVE AGAIN- THE STORM

PART 1 PART 2 PART 4 PART 5

Pairings: Ji Changmin (Q) X Reader X Jaehyun (Hyunjae) Ft Kevin Moon  Genre: Fluff x Angst X SLIGHT SMUT  Word count: 21,562 words

Summary: A talent show will take place in three week times and you still struggling with putting emotion in the song that you choose, a masterpiece by Lady Gaga, ‘I’ll never love again’. You meet Changmin who you fall for instantly after he jumps in to help you figuring out how to perform the song. Will he manage to help you? Or will he be the one who cause you to sing the song for him? Image are not mine. Credit to Google.

Changmin

He came late to his group gathering after sending her back to her dorm after another sleepover last night which he had a hard time saying goodbye with a long make out session in his car before he had to let her go and promised to meet her after her class end tomorrow evening.

“Changmin-ah.” Jaehyun call as soon as he get into the restaurant.

“Hyung.” He smiles and walk straight to him giving him a long manly hugs before greeting the other and Kevin who was oddly silent.

“How are you? Isn’t it your semester break too? If you told me you’re here during your break, I’m not going back and hang out with you instead.” Jaehyun pat his shoulder as he took the seat between Jaehyun and Kevin.

“Yeah it was. But I’m helping my girlfriend out with her performance next week, then I’ll be spending the rest of my break with Ghana afterwards.” He didn’t realize how Kevin’s eyes almost popped out from its socket after he heard the words girlfriend. He leaned forward to get Changmin’s attention asking for explanation but the guy just pushed him away playfully and there’s a glint of shyness plastered on his face.

“Girlfriend? Wow. I’m happy for you. Finally, its almost a year now am I right?” Jaehyun smiles at him and he nods. Its no that can’t move on from his ex or anything, its just tiring dealing with the heartbreak. He needs to start over in relationship again sooner or later and she just came into the picture. He was more than happy to claim her for himself.

“Yeah. We just made it official. I think you know her too because she’s Kevi..” He stop at his words when he saw the name of the girl he has spent the whole weekend with a heart emoji and a candid picture of her smiling so sweet holding a flower bouquet admiring it pops on Jaehyun’s phone waiting for Jaehyun to answer, his heart drop dangerously a thousand feet, free falling. The picture probably taken way back because her hair was black and she still look exceptionally beautiful that it hurts him so bad.

“Excuse me guys. Baby hey, why aren’t you answering my calls?” Everything around him seems like a picture that it has stop for a moment, he didn’t move or say anything it's like his body is shutting down, a shock is an understatement to describe how he feels, he was numbed that he couldn’t process what was happening, it was happening so fast that he think that maybe what happened during the weekend was only a dream. Or was it really? He felt a hand squeezing his shoulder and look to his right to find Kevin giving him an apologetic look and that was when he felt the pain, and then anger.

“Kevin. What is this?” His voice came out shaky but loud enough to make the other stop talking and all the attention was on him. He couldn’t believe that the girl he fell hard for which he spent his whole weekend with was the one who his hyung always brag about all the time. How he wish he could turn back time and.. he don’t even have a clue what to do if he turns back time. Falling for her was never an option, it was not something he can control. Maybe it was his fault for falling for her and he has no idea what to do or how to react. He was hurt. No. He felt betrayed and he had to control himself so he wont snap on anyone by balling up his fist tightly until his knuckles turns white.

“Its not what you think Changmin. You need to give her chance to explain. It’s a lot more complicated than what you think.” Kevin grab his shoulder gently try to calm him but he felt otherwise. He was furious but he want to heard it from Kevin if its not from her. Well at least he has a clue about the situation.

“Tell me then Kev. Tell me the truth.” He was about to lose his mind but he couldn’t snap at Kevin because it wasn’t his fault and he couldn’t blame her either because he needs to know from her side of story too.

“I can’t because I’m not in that place to tell you or him. She needs to tell you both herself. But I promise that all her feeling for you is genuine.” Kevin try to talk him out while the other has no clue what was going on. But his answer wasn’t enough, it drive him to the edge even more.

He rub his face harshly out of frustration while Kevin still try to calm him down but when he look out, he saw her outside walking towards Jaehyun. She look fresh with no make up on, nothing. Not even her signature red lips. She wears her black hoodie and matching back ripped jeans and he hates it because he still admires her for it and it kills him to think that she was more comfortable showing her raw side to Jaehyun than him. He prayed hard that it was all a lie. That she was just trying to pull a prank on him and hoping that she’ll walk into the restaurant and run to his embrace instead. But it wasn’t. Because she was walking into another man’s arm making his heart shattered into a million pieces. That was it. That’s the answer he’s been searching for and he wont need any explanation from anyone anymore. He couldn’t stand to look any longer before mustering all the strength he got left and stand abruptly wanting to leave.

“Changmin wait. Please let her explain.” Kevin grab his wrist but he pull away harshly. He was mad. Mad at her, at Kevin and at anyone who already knew about her and Jaehyun but just let him fall for her. Everyone is at fault.  

“You and your best friend can just go to hell.” He growled before walking to the main door towards her and Jaehyun. He saw how her tensing up when Jaehyun pull out a dark blue velvet box from his pocket making Changmin stop walking and as by looking at her in another man arm couldn’t hurt enough, this time he felt like dying is a better option than watching another man was about to propose to her. He saw how she covered her mouth and she frowned when he reveals a diamond ring to her, she looked uncertain and he was disinterested to know why because he was too clouded by his anger. He was about to give up on everything because the pain was unbearable. Her eyes suddenly wanders and caught his who was staring, taking in all the hurt she had caused that he will later will use it against her while she was in shock that she didn’t even look away when Jaehyun shook her body lightly trying to get her attention back to him, the velvet box was closed and Jaehyun followed her line of sight to find him, Jaehyun was confused that he keep looking back and forth at Changmin and her. With the last strength he could muster in his numb body, he walked out the door heading the opposite way from where they both were standing.

“Changmin wait.” He heard her sweet voice calling for him while Jaehyun calls for hers but he didn’t stop even how much he want to. He fight the voice inside his head that asking him to stay and listen to her explanation, but his heart was hurting and he don’t want to cry or fall back into her, what if she tell lies? No. He wont stop or look back or even gives her the chance to play him. He got into his car and speed up without looking back to save himself from breaking apart and refuse to cry in front of her or anyone. He bit his quivering lips hard before hitting the brake stop by the park when he’s sure that he’s far enough from everyone else where he finally break down into tears. He press his eyes hard using his palm to stop himself from crying.

“How could you.” He cries letting it all out. His heart was broken beyond repair and even she couldn’t fix it. She’s broken glass that he had thrown himself into, and falling for her was like walking on a shattered broken glass, the more he tries to pull the pieces out, the more damage it causes.

Y/N

You smiles closing the door to your room before plopping into your bed shrieking excitedly. You rolled on your back and smile again staring at the ceiling and how you wish that you still staring at his ceiling instead of yours. You decided to take a bath before doing your assignment and call Changmin afterwards. You took out your phone to charge it and realize it was dead for almost 2 days, you smiles again reminiscing the past two day when nothing else matter as long as you have him with you. You turn it on after connecting the charger and it was bombarded by texts and dozens of miscall from Jaehyun washing your smile away. You had forgotten about him for the past two weeks when you were too occupied with Changmin. You were happy and you’re determined that you’ll tell Jaehyun the truth as soon as you can. You decided to check all the text before heading to bathroom.

‘Y/N I’m at Seoul now. Where are you?’

And few asking the same thing but the last and the most recent was the one that made you broke a cold sweats.

‘I love you. I have a surprise for you and for our future. Please call me back. I missed you baby.’

You know what he was about to do because before his semester break, he keep asking about what kind of jewelry do you like and keep showing you a video of man proposing and shit like that and even ask how would you feel if someone proposed to you like that. You suddenly regret for not telling him earlier and making him wait for years. You went to the bathroom to take a shower before calling him as you head out from your room.

“Baby hey, why aren’t you answering my calls?” You stop at your tracks when he greets making inside of you churns at the pet name that he gave without your permission and it somehow made you disgusted with yourself for letting another man other than Changmin calling you that.

“We need to talk. Where are you?” You said urgently, putting on your Vans before walking out of your dorm.

“I’m at the restaurant near your dorm, you want me to come and pick you up?” You know the restaurant located few minutes away just by walking from your dorm and you run. You run hoping that it won't be too late for you to tell him before Kevin does or Changmin. You pretty sure they both hang out together because you knew they both know Kevin and Kevin only have one group of friend. You run without cutting the call until you saw him standing outside the usual restaurant they always went to.

“Oppa.” You call out finally cutting the phone call and he smiles widely as you walked towards him. It kills you that you has to hurt him after knowing what he will do. But you have to, you need to choose between him or Changmin and you didn’t even need to think twice to choose Changmin over anyone else. You stare at him trying to smile back at him, trying blurt out the words you’ve been trying to tell him. But you couldn’t, you were very fond to him, he was your first best friend before he decided to confessed and scared you away. But he never stop chasing you, maybe because you never dare to hurt him or push him away. You love him as a friend but now you need to tell him to stop. You need to tell him the truth.

“Y/N. Oh my god I miss you.” He pulls you into his embrace but you didn’t wrap your hands on him like you always did when Changmin hugs you. You push him away lightly not wanting to hurt him and you hate yourself for doing so. Because you keep on giving him hopes. You don’t mind before because you didn’t have Changmin. But now you have him and you want to cut this non-existent relationship that you and Jaehyun has caught in. You want to stop giving him hopes even if you have no clue how to. You will try anything for god sake.

“I bought something for you.” He pulls out a dark blue velvet box from his pocket and your world came crushing down even you know this will come. You covered your mouth to hide the quivering of your lips when he open the box revealing a diamond ring inside it. If people who doesn’t know your situation they might be feel happy for you. But you almost broke into tears when the guilt started to eat you up. How could you push him when all you could see inside his eyes was sincerity. You stare at his sweet smiley face that was gleaming and it rip you apart because you’re going to take his happiness away. You are the one to blame when his smiles fades and you are the bad guy who will break his heart.  

“Can you please marry me? You still can take your master if you want. We can sort things out just like we always did when we’re in high school.” And at the moment you prayed to god that the ground swallowed you whole and you try to avoid his eyes but somehow your eyes found at a pair of eyes that you adores so much from inside the restaurant standing still probably saw the whole thing. You could feel your heart and head stop working and all your senses numbed when you saw the hurt in his eyes. He look away and walked out the door to the opposite side from where you and Jaehyun were and you started to panic.

“Changmin-ah.” You called and started to run after him. But luck wasn’t at you side when he got into his car and drive away leaving you behind.

“No please. Changmin.” You scream on top of your lungs running to the busy road and almost got hit by a speeding car if it wasn’t Kevin who pull you away from the road.

“Kevin.” You whispered as he grab your both arms trying to get you on your senses.

“Just let him settles first. Just let him be.” He pulls you into his embrace as you break down in tears.

“Y/N.” You heard Jaehyun calling your name but you refuse to look up. You afraid that you’ll lash him out when it was your fault in the first place. You know you just broke his heart too and it will kill you to see his face now. You can’t even apologize to him. Its too late now for everything. Its too late to apologize, its too late to explain. Its too late to fix thing and everything was your fault.  

“Take me home please Kevin. Take me home.” You plead and you could feel he’s turning his head to Jaehyun.

“I’ll call you later hyung. I’m sorry.” He said before starts walking to your dorm leaving the guy behind.

“I should have warned you yesterday I’m sorry. I just don’t think..” you both were almost at your dorm when he breaks the silence between you two which made you stop walking.

“You knew?” You push his body away from you to take a look on his face. You felt you scalp tightens and got goosebumps from his words.

“Why didn’t tell me Kevin?” You snap at him and trying to throw all the blame at him entirely because you’re being denial. You cant register what you have lose in the span of just thirty minute and now you’re going to lose your best friend too. He was taken aback by your sudden rage at him.

“I didn’t know you already made it official with Changmin Y/N. All of you three are my friend. It wont be fair for Jaehyun hyung If I told you about his plans. Do you think I have the choice? Even if I have I cant choose sides. You all are my friend. I didn’t choose to stuck in your love triangle Y/N. But I have warned you about Jaehyun’s hyung feeling and you did nothing about it. You left the poor guy standing on cliff for god sake.” You cover your mouth as his words hit you hard and pull you back to reality. He was right. It was your fault. It will always be your fault. You throw yourself into the mess.

“Don’t blame me for things that you have started. I’ve done my part Y/N.” He lashes out on you making you broke harder into tears. You feel bad for lashing on him and you run back to your dorm leaving him behind and lock yourself in your bedroom crying all night.

You didn’t attend class the next day, you decided to drive to Changmin’s apartment to apologize and explain everything to him. But when you’re sure you saw his car parked on the parking lot, you went up to his floor and rang his bell. When he didn’t answer the first four time you called him, you knock his door on repeat. But his neighbor came out instead greeting you.

“He went to his parents just now.” He said.

“But his car is downstairs.” You force a smile when you felt yourself frowning to his answer. You’re still being denial. Your sleep deprivation didn’t help much when you’re at your most fragile state that you almost broke down at every mention of his name. But you fight it because you need to find him.

“Yeah he usually take the train whenever he head to his parents. I think you can still catch him now.” He said again watching his watch and you thanked him before rushing to the station looking for him franticly. You know you’re on the right place as his neighbor told you. You force yourself to run everywhere looking at people faces even your energy was drained. You stop to catch your breath almost losing hope after running here and there for a few round. You straightens your back when you sense someone was looking at you. When you look up inside the train, you saw him looking at you without any emotion. As if you’re a stranger to him, you were holding back another sets of tear mouthing ‘please’ to him, begging for him to stay, to listen to you just once. You began to panic when the train door was closing and started moving.

“No. No please. Changmin-ah.” You call as you break down again chasing after him banging the side of the train and running dangerously close to the train. While him, he just looked away from you.

“Changmin please.” You pleaded before stop when you reach the end of the platform. You fall to your knee crying shamelessly ignoring the people who was looking at you. You prayed so hard that you have enough courage to just jump on the railways and kill yourself.

You cried and cried and cried as if no one was watching you until you feel someone wraps a jacket over your shoulder and you look up to see Kevin who was looking back at you.

Kevin

It was during class when he got a call from Jaehyun asking him to pick her up at the station that he had to rush out and take a taxi and sprint to the platform where he saw she was still crying on her knees hands covering her face. He took off his jacket and walked to her covering her petite body and it break him when she look up to him with her swollen eyes from crying. He pulls her up and keep her face covered because some people already taking video of her and take her away from the crowd.

“What are you doing there?” He asked after they both arrives at his shared apartment with Jacob and Eric. He help her settles on the couch before sitting down next to her.

“I was trying to looking for Changmin.” She said in between her sobs.  

“Was he there too? Why are you alone then?” He was irritated at Changmin for leaving her alone crying like that. But he can’t blame him either after what happened last night.

“He left. For good.” She cries harder at her own word and it hurts him too to see her like that. How he wish he could just told her about Jaehyun plans or told Jaehyun about her feeling on her behalf. He had nothing to say because he know how much she love Changmin even before they started dating. He pulls her body closer to him letting her cry on his shoulder.

“How did you know I was there?”

“Jaehyun was looking for Changmin too, but he saw you came out from Changmin’s apartment building and he followed your car. He wanted to comfort you, but he’s afraid that he’ll end up messing up your emotion more. So, he called me.” She didn’t react to his explanation but he know she was lost too. This is her first heartbreak and to put all the blame on her isn’t fair because it's like blaming her for being innocent. For being too nice not daring to reject Jaehyun because she was afraid, she’ll hurt him. But in the end, everyone is hurt.

“I’m sorry Kev, for everything I said last night.” He pat her head slowly.  

“Its fine.”

“I’m sorry for dragging you along with this shit that I made.”

“Hush. Just stop crying. You’ll find another one.” He know it was impossible for her because she’s kind of reserved whenever she is around strangers and it’s a miracle that Changmin could get through the thick wall that she have built up to separate her from others. Even Jaehyun who she have known for years couldn’t make it into her heart after years of trying.

While he himself was a special case, he met her during registration when he and she both came late and almost got into trouble if wasn’t for him who talked the dean out saving both asses from penalties. He’s been the only person she ever talked to and became best friend ever since. He helped her deal with her anti social even she didn’t change much, but he helped her out with gaining confidence while singing by forcing her to sing with his friend Jacob every weekend. He met Jaehyun through her when she constantly avoiding the guy by hiding behind his back and he had to make up tons of excuses for her to get away from him.

“I wont say that I know how you feel because it would be a lie. But lets just focus on this week. Its your long awaited solo. Lets focus solely on that. Okay?” He caress her hair gently and she nodded.

“You can sleep upstairs, Jacob and Eric will be back soon and I don’t want them to see you like this.”  

“Thank you Kevin. What would I do without you.” She lifts her head from his shoulder and he could feel his heart suddenly beating abnormally harder at the close proximate of her face with his chin that he could feel her breath tickles his skin.

He straightens his body up pushing her gently away from his shoulder to shake any feeling from forming inside him even he know it was always been there.

“You’ll live Y/N. I promise.” He looked into her red eyes and then to her red nose making him chuckle.

“What.” She whined adorably still so fragile.

“You look like a clown. Your nose.” He was about to poke it but stop himself from doing so afraid he would fall by such a simple gesture.

“You should get some rest.” He exhaled still looking at her wearing his jacket and she still look good even when she’s a mess and it hurts him to see her like that. He sent her to his room before decided to call Changmin himself. But all his calls goes straight to the voicemails.

A/N: This one a bit long but thank you anyway for reading it. Ahh Kevin, my second bias, i just couldn’t help to put some back story about him and how he’s been crushing on reader for quite sometimes. But that’s just it. He might be getting his own fics later. but i hope you enjoyed this one. Two more chapter will be shorter i promise. Thank you again.

[bellamuertes]

and miles to go before i sleep

i saw @amikoroyaiart‘s devastating reddie fanart and this one-shot flowed right through me because i love Suffering.

“Richie couldn't remember when he first heard of the legend of Ludlow. It was a campfire story — as if Derry itself wasn't some kind of twisted campfire story.  Deep in the woods in Ludlow, past marshes and fallen trees and great sucking mud puddles, there was a patch of ground where if you bury your dead, they'd come back to life.

This was the part of the story Richie was clinging to, not the part where the dead would come back wrong.”

cw: death, noncon, suicide, definitely no happy endings

Richie sat in the front seat of his ostentatious car, going 25 over the speed limit, practically begging to be pulled over.

Comedian jailed after speeding, found to be in possession of a corpse — wouldn't that be some wild, made for TMZ shit? He barked out a harsh laugh, sparing a glance over his shoulder at the body laid out in the backseat. A corpse, a body? Show some respect to the love of your life, Richie! 

The love of his life… 27 years spent feeling like a part of himself had been torn out, that some kind of secret lobotomy had made him incapable of feeling love for a person. Never settling down and blaming it on the nature of his career. Then he stepped back into Derry and saw Eddie Kaspbrak again.

Eddie Kaspbrak, who died saving his gangly ass, like he deserved it or something. 

Eddie Kaspbrak, who was now cold and going through rigor in the backseat. 

Richie, honey, he's dead.

Not for the first time on this fucked up road trip did he start to sob, loud and wet and hiccupy. His vision blurred with tears behind his glasses, which were still stained with Eddie's blood, and he only cried harder.

He was going to make this right. If he could get to Ludlow without some state trooper pulling him over, he could make this right.

---

Richie couldn't remember when he first heard of the legend of Ludlow. It was a campfire story— as if Derry itself wasn't some kind of twisted campfire story. But to tell the story of Derry meant confirming the evil that had lurked there and that wasn't something many were able to do. So they talked about Ludlow instead.

Deep in the woods in Ludlow, past marshes and fallen trees and great sucking mud puddles, there was a patch of ground where if you bury your dead, they'd come back to life.

This was the part of the story Richie was clinging to, not the part where the dead would come back wrong.

Whether or not he actually resurrected parts of his family, some doctor was found dead with his wife and two children in the farmhouse at the edge of the woods. And because true crime was such a booming business, the house had been scrubbed from top to bottom and thrown on Airbnb with all its lurid history. And because Richie Tozier had a platinum AMEX, he was able to rent the house for a week.

Once he got across Ludlow town lines, he took his lead foot off the gas and slowed down a little. He was still drawing too much attention, though, with the flame-red sports car and the fact that he looked like he crawled out from a sewer because, haha, he had. If any shit went down, the locals were sure to point to him.

A few minutes later, he pulled into the driveway of the farmhouse, right next to the main road. There was a key in a lockbox, which he retrieved before he shouldered his bag and Eddie's giant suitcases into the master bedroom. Then he was right back out to the car to get the more precious cargo.

He had fought tooth and nail to get Eddie out as Neibolt crashed down around them. He clung onto him, his blood staining his front as they all waded through waist-deep rushing water, up through the well and the crackhouse before it fell in a heap before them.

After a long moment of silence, sprawled in the dirt, cradling Eddie's body, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

W-w-w-we gotta b-b-bury him, Richie, Bill had said gently. 

Bury him. Words spoken by their fearless leader made everything far too real. Richie began to sob into Eddie's shoulder, clutching him, willing a heartbeat to rise to his chest. 

I'll bury him, Bill. I'll find the perfect place.

---

Richie hadn't paid much attention in school, but as he walked through the forested wetlands behind the farmhouse, snatches of poetry came to mind:

The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep,    And miles to go before I sleep,    And miles to go before I sleep.

It was impossible to know how far he walked, only that he could feel something guiding his steps, making sure his feet found the right path. In his arms, he held Eddie, and if he didn't know better, Richie could swear he was just sleeping. His eyes were closed now, his face blank, not a mask of pain but smooth, almost innocent. 

"I promise, Eds, I'm gonna make this right," he said into the foggy blackness of the forest.

Promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep.

Finally, he reached a clearing with a great stone staircase, leading to a summit, and it didn't take a genius to know this was the place. Richie felt some mysterious power flowing through him, giving him strength he didn't otherwise have to climb to the top with Eds draped over his shoulder.

The air was clean and thin at the top of the mountain and he could see out for miles around him, a sea of tree canopies stretched out ad infinitum. The stars winked in the blackness of the night sky and the nearly-full moon illuminated the patch of rocky earth where Richie began to dig. 

Out here, time had no meaning. All he knew was the task before him, removing great clumps of the dry dirt that stained and bit into his hands. His fingernails chipped and his palms bled but at last, there was a shallow trench big enough to accommodate Eddie's body.

He reverently picked up his body, settling him in face up in the cold ground. "You won't have to be here long, Eds, I promise."

Promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep.

He stared at Eddie's face for a long moment—his strong jaw, his dark brows, the stray pieces of hair that fell over his forehead. He pressed his bloodied hand against his cheek, tried to stifle a ragged sob. 

"We'll be together soon," he whispered, voice cracking in anguish. He began to push the piles of earth into the trench, letting it cover Eddie's body completely. Once he was hidden beneath the dirt, Richie stood, wiped his palms on his jeans, and stumbled back into the darkness.

---

Richie woke up in the farmhouse, long limbs splayed out on the bed. He was still in his clothes, covered in sewer muck and blood and burial ground dirt. Bleary-eyed, he looked down as his hands, filthy and scratched raw. His whole body ached and his stomach growled with hunger but first, he needed to shower. 

Sitting up in bed, he yelped when he saw someone at the edge of the mattress. 

"Eds…?"

"Hey, Rich."

He scrambled over, throwing himself at Eddie and pulling him into a tight hug. He sobbed against his shoulder, this time, tears of joy and relief making wet tracks on his cheeks. When he pulled back, Eddie was looking at him placidly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"We killed IT, didn't we?"

"Yeah buddy, we sure as fuck did."

Eddie nodded, the smile disappearing as he asked, "What happened to me, Richie?"

He paused, frowning slightly. "It doesn't matter, Eddie, you're here now."

"It was cold where I was. And dark."

"Yeah well, old Pennywise wasn't the best interior decorator."

After another long moment, Eddie met Richie's gaze. "Can I clean up?"

Rich gave him a wide, relieved smile. "Eddie, my love, you can do whatever you want."

---

Eddie sat in the bathtub and for the first time, Richie saw this might not have been the best course of action. 

For one, Eds barely noticed the water was brackish around him, that he was sitting in his own filth instead of washing it away beneath the showerhead.

The water, dirty as it was, was so hot as to be steaming yet Eddie didn't seem to register the heat. He stared blankly in front of him, those once-bright eyes now dark, deep and almost black in his skull. 

Second, there was a ragged, gaping hole in his chest.

This wasn't the way that Richie had wanted to see Eddie naked but something about his thin voice and hollow eyes made him want to stay by his side, even while he bathed. Eds didn't seem to have any objections to him sitting on top of the toilet seat.

Stealing glances, he could see straight through that hole in Eddie's chest, see that he wasn't drawing breath, couldn't possibly be drawing breath. 

What were they gonna do? Had Richie really expected to be able to bandage Eds up and bring him back to Chicago with him? No one knew Eddie was dead except The Losers and what if they came sniffing around? Did he really think no one would notice his undead...what? Richie never got to tell Eddie how he felt before he bit the big one. What if Eds wanted to go back to New York, back to Myra? 

Maybe he could call Kevin, his assistant. He had savings, stocks, credit. He could buy this fucking Maine crapshack and just live in the woods with Eddie for the rest of his life. And then what? 

He really didn't think this shit through. Typical.

"Richie?"

He raised his head, meeting those dark, undeniably empty eyes. "Yeah, Eds?"

"I died, didn't I?"

Richie swallowed hard, couldn't say anything, merely nodded. Eddie nodded back in confirmation, understanding. 

"It was my fault, Eds," he said, tugging at his shaggy hair, eyes welling up with tears "You didn't deserve it. You died saving me and it wasn't fair. I...I needed to make things right. And I did, you're here now. Nothing bad's gonna happen to you again." 

Eddie didn't say anything. Richie sighed, got up from the toilet seat. "I'm gonna make us some breakfast. There are clothes on the bed."

---

They had survived day one. Richie had spent most of it on the phone, trying to talk Kevin down from the ledge as he urged him to cancel the rest of his tour dates and find out how much the owner was asking to buy this Airbnb.

Richie, are you having a nervous breakdown or something? 

Or something.

The Losers had all tried texting and calling him but Richie ignored them all. Their questions were all the same — Are you alright? Did you bury Eddie? Do you need anything?

He got what he needed; he got Eddie back.

Eddie had parked himself in a ratty armchair and stared into space for most of the day as Richie finally washed himself off then went to pace around the farmhouse. 

With clothes back on, he could almost forget the hole in his best friend's chest, but the shower hadn't alleviated the lingering scent of earth and rot that clung to him. Rich had turned on the ancient tv to make it a little less quiet, a little less weird, but he knew Eddie's black eyes weren't focused on the screen.

Eddie hadn't eaten the eggs Rich had made for breakfast or the mac and cheese he made for lunch and dinner. 

Corpses don't eat, dumbass.

Rich took some of his sleeping pills to ignore the cold feeling of dread that had settled in his stomach and fell into a fitful sleep.

---

Rich woke up to a strange sensation on his skin accompanied by a wet sucking noise. He frowned, moaning slightly, pushing his hips up into the feeling. His sleep-drenched brain finally caught up, realizing that he wasn’t dreaming, he was actually getting a blowjob. 

Reaching for his glasses, he saw Eddie grinning up at him, his black eyes shining in the darkness, his fingers wrapped around Richie's half hardened cock. 

"This was what you wanted, right?" He asked, his voice gravelly and wrong. "This was really why you brought me back, so you could have your gayboy happy ending."

Richie winced, trying to wiggle away from Eddie's grasp. He ran his rotted tongue over the head of his cock, lapping up the precum that had pooled unbidden. He mewled in confused pleasure, Eddie's other hand holding his hip down with more strength than he should've been capable of.

"You’re selfish, Richie. All that whining about making things right? Spare me, you fuckup. You just wanted a chance to get your dick wet, your rocks off, wanted to live out some queer fantasy. Lil Richie homemaker."

"No, that wasn't, it wasn't…" This wasn't Eddie, not his Eddie. This was like Pennywise had found him again, the same nasty words and tricks bubbling up from his mouth. Hadn’t they killed that fucking clown? Maybe he should've paid more attention to the stories, the legends of Ludlow's Pet Sematary. The dead came back wrong.

Sometimes, dead was better.

"Face it, Richie. The only way you could get me to love you is like this. Does it feel good, Rich?" The Eddie Monster asked, nails digging deep into the skin of his hip, making him yelp. He needed to fight back. It wasn't his Eddie, it wasn't his Eddie, he repeated to himself, smacking his large palm against his temple, hard enough to wiggle out from the monster's grasp. He pulled up his pants and kicked his long leg out, hitting Eddie in the nose with the heel of his foot. He felt bone crunch but the thing in his bed just laughed.

"It was your fault I died, Rich. Time for me to return the favor."

Eddie launched himself at Richie, who managed to stumble out of bed and out of the room. He fell in the hallway, the time it took to pick himself up just enough for the monster to catch up to him, yanking his leg out from under him once more. Richie's face hit the baseboards, knocking the wind out of him.

“See, I’ve always been fast, Rich. When you don’t need to breathe, you don’t have to worry about asthma attacks,” Eddie said with a vicious laugh. He had Rich pinned beneath him, throwing his glasses to the side. He roughly cupped his face in his hands, thumbs easing over his cheeks towards his eyes. 

I did it, Richie! I killed IT! 

Richie thrashed wildly beneath him, trying to buck the smaller man off of him but he only gripped tighter, laughed louder.  

“Now you, you’ve never been able to see so well. Maybe it’d be easier for you without eyes.” 

“Eddie, please, you don’t have to do this,” he sobbed, long arms held up in front of him, trying to find purchase on the other man’s throat. 

“You didn’t have to do this either. You brought me back, Richie. You brought this upon yourself.”

Richie drew one of his hands back, fumbling in the pocket of his sweatpants, finding some smooth and cool to the touch. He’d placed it there while Eds was watching tv, unnerved by the way he stared unblinkingly. He nicked himself drawing it out but managed to draw the blade from his pocket knife, slicing his throat open. 

A stream of thick black bile streamed from the open wound. Eddie laughed and laughed as the goop covered Richie’s face until the laughter turned to chokes and sputters, and he fell off Richie’s prone body. 

Richie sobbed as he gripped the knife and stabbed it over and over into Eddie’s chest. 

-- 

The scent of burning flesh hung heavy in the air as Richie sat in the backyard, another grave freshly dug, the charred body at the bottom of the shallow hole. There were no more tears to cry. The monster, Eddie, had been right. He was selfish and needy and he’d done this to himself.

He had taken what felt like every pill in Eddie’s suitcase, his head swimming, his stomach roiling as he tried to keep them all down. Maybe he’d see Stan where he was going. Maybe he’d see Eddie too, even if he didn’t deserve it. All he could hope was that Eddie’s soul had made it to a better place, hadn’t been warped by whatever was out there in the woods.

He took a long sip of beer, looking at the freshly piled mound of earth. It looked like a good place to rest. He set the bottle to the side and climbed atop the mound, closing his eyes. 

He had walked all the miles. Now it was time to sleep.

At the head of the grave, before he took all the pills, he made a makeshift cross. In the wood, like he’d done with he was a kid at the kissing bridge, he’d carved into the planks R + E. 

[flashbackharry]

Holding On: Part One.

Requested!-“ Hello, I adore your writing. I was wondering if you could write a prompt about y/n being in an abusive relationship and harry helping her get out of it. thank you!”

TW: Abuse, Domestic Violence, Alcoholsim and swearing.

Domestic Violence helpline: 1-800-700-7233

***

All you did was ask how his night was. You didn't mean anything rude by it, but he saw it as something different entirely. You weren't sure what was happening until your head was being smashed against the bathroom mirror. You  felt blood bloom from your scalp, your eyes scanned the floor and you came in contact with sharp pieces of glass. You felt the blood drip down from your head and onto your face. You felt your eye lids start to close and you couldn't fight the unconsciousness sweeping over your entire body.

"C'mon get up. Get up! You're fine." You heard your fiancé say but you couldn't focus on his words. You tried zeroing In on the pain you felt in your head instead. You felt rough hands pick you up from the ground and drag your body up against the bathroom wall. You made eye contact with those lifeless eyes you knew all too well. You felt a cold paper towel on your head as he very quickly cleaned up your cut. You didn't look him in the eyes, instead you choked back tears. You couldn't show him you were afraid let alone cry in front of him, so you learned to keep your emotions in check. You cried whenever he wasn't home or sometimes when he was sleeping you would go to the bathroom and turn the shower on to drown out your sobs. When he was done he threw the paper towel in the trash and practically spat at you, "Clean this mess up." He said, and walked away, leaving you a bloody mess on the floor.

You contemplated staying there and crying but you couldn't, you had to get up and fight, if not for anyone else, then for yourself. You dragged your aching limbs off the floor and stood up. You had to catch yourself before you almost fell over from how dizzy you were. You stripped your clothes off one by one and faced yourself in the mirror. You almost cried purely from looking at your reflection alone. You were naked but there were bruises all over your body, some were old, but some were new and bright red, as recent as the night before. The top part of your hair was covered in blood, what was once brown now almost black from the blood. You pulled your eyes from your own body and slowly stepped into the shower, turning the knob so the water was scalding hot. You washed your hair, the hot water got into your cut and it made you wince. You looked down and the tub ran pink as you washed the remnants of tonight off. 

Once you were done and you wrapped your shivering body in a towel you walked out of the bathroom. Your bed room of course, was empty. It was rare Kevin ever came home at night. You pulled out underwear from your dresser and a oversized long sleeve shirt that stopped at your knees and climbed into bed.  Your head throbbed dully and muscles ached, but nonetheless you tried to fall asleep. Your mind wondered to all the brand new excuses you would make for him now. Why did you even ask him? You knew when he came home drunk that it never ended well. You should have locked yourself in your bedroom until he fell asleep on the couch but it was too late. All you wanted was for him to talk to you.

You weren't stupid, you didn't fall for guys who enjoyed beating you to a pulp. Kevin was not the same guy you met a year ago. He was charismatic and funny and he certainly never laid his hands on you. But then one day he got the call from the hospital that his mum had died from liver failure. Yeah, it was ironic, the same thing that killed his mother was the same thing he turned to for comfort. He no longer turned to you for help, he no longer told you things, instead he pushed you away. Then the distance slowly morphed into anger. The first time he raised his hands to hit you he was drunk. He immediately regretted it, you watched his face turn from anger to instant remorse.  You let him hug you as he said over and over again that it wouldn't happen again and you believed him. Like the fool you were you believed him. You held onto the hope that one day he would change and become the man you fell in love with. You could leave him but you were scared. Scared he would find you and your family, scared you couldn't be the person he needed you to be for him. Scared you let him down. So you stayed. You always stayed.

You didn't cry as you laid there in bed, you didn't have the energy to cry at the moment. But you couldn't deny the inexplicable emptiness you felt in your heart and in your bones. With Kevin you felt lonely but without him you were alone.

You woke up the next day in the after noon, you glanced at your clock and saw it was 4pm. Christ, your exhaustion mixed with your piercing headache caused you to sleep incredibly late. You reached for your phone on your nightside table and checked all the text messages you missed.  The other side of your bed was empty and you weren't surprised.

"Hey Y/n, reminder my party is tonight at 6pm, I really hope you can make it." 

It was a text message from your best friend Evie. You hadn't  seen her in nearly 4 months, considering your current situation. Kevin rarely let you out but you haven't seen him since last night so you threw caution to the wind and decided to go. You got ready but it wasn't easy finding something that looked good and covered all your bruises. You had a bruise on your neck from the time Kevin wrapped his arms around them and strangled you until you promised to never ignore him again. That was over a month ago but it was now black and purple and it looked so bad tears sprang into your eyes. You shook your head and willed yourself to stop.  you decided to wear a brown turtle neck and some black pants with white stripes. You let your hair down to cover any additional bruises and threw on a tweed coat. You didn't bother with makeup, if Kevin saw you wearing it he would flip so you gave up trying a long time ago.  You walked down the stairs and prayed Kevin wasn't home yet, you made it all the way down the stairs but you didn't find him on the couch so you checked the kitchen and he wasn't there either. You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding in and walked out the door.

***

You arrived at Evie's house and there were a lot more people than you were expecting. You walked in and someone took your coat and bag and offered you a drink, you politely shook your head no. You knew what alcohol did to your loved ones so you vowed to never drink for as long as you were breathing.  You spotted Evie amongst the crowd and made your way over to her. Its been awhile since you were among this many people and your heart started to beat uncontrollably. What if they saw your bruises?  what if Kevin told people? Most of these people were your friends at one point, surely they would notice a difference in your demeanor?

Once Evie saw you, she excused her self from the crowd that was around her, and met you half way. She wrapped her arms around you and hugged you tightly.

"I am so glad to see you Y/n, I've missed you so much" She said, letting you go to get a good look at you.

"My God have you gotten skinnier" She said patting your stomach. You mustered up an uncomfortable smile. You hadn't realized you lost weight but It wasn't a surprising concept. You spent all your free time sleeping, the sight of food made you sick at this point. Evie's comment about your weight hadn't helped either, you felt even more self conscious. Without makeup, the bags under your eyes were  immensely noticeable. Your cheek bones were also more defined and you were pale as ever. You debated going home right now, you wanted to disappear so badly.

'Where's Kevin?" Evie asked and the sound of his name sent chills down your spine.  You looked around as if he was here and when you realized what Evie asked you, you looked back at her and told him he couldn't make it.

"Oh that's too bad, I don't want you to be alone tonight, its mostly couples here." She said gesturing towards the crowd. You looked and she was right.

"Well, almost everyone, Harrys over there, I forced him to help me set up and all." She said pointing at him, he was leaned against the wall, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt chills down your back again for an entirely different reason. 

"I know you guys have history and all but I'm sure you guys can still be around each other, right?" You didn't answer her right away, you were too busy staring back at him. He looked... good. Like he gets an adequate amount of sleep and doesn't live his life in fear. He was wearing jeans and a black button up with the top buttons left undone, exposing his chest and tattoos.  Harry and you were lovers during a time before you met Kevin. In fact you started dating Kevin to help you get over Harry. Looking at Harry now you weren't sure if those feelings ever left in the first place. 

"Of course not." you said looking back at Evie and she nodded. She told you the food was on platters being held by waiters and to help yourself.

"We're gonna catch up very soon, okay love?" She said, squeezing your arm and you nodded. With that she left back to the group of people awaiting her. You stayed standing in the middle of the crowd before you walked over to Harry who was standing against the wall, drink in hand. His eyes trailed over your body, taking you in. You leaned your back against the wall too. looking straight at the party. Everyone dancing and laughing and drinking. Having the time of their lives, not a care in the world. It made you green with envy. How people could carry on with their lives and be completely oblivious to what others are going through. To no fault of their own of course.

"How are you?" Harry spoke, still not looking at you.

"Good, and you?" You said slowly. You felt Harry push off the wall and he was in front of you in seconds. His face inches away from your face. You felt his breath on your skin as he intensely gazed into your eyes. You couldn't put into words how he made you feel so you settled for not saying anything at all.

"You look like you haven't eaten or slept in months, no ones bloody fucking seen you since you started dating that prick and I know you, I know you're not happy, I can practically hear your heart beating out of your chest." His breath was shaky and his nose flared from how angry he was and you couldn't help but feel the same way Kevin does when hes angry at you. Small. You pushed Harry away and started to walk outside, you felt Harry follow you and suddenly you were in the crisp November air.  You started to walk, you didn't know where you were going, but you just wanted to get away, from everything. You heard Harry call out from behind you.

"Do you remember what you promised me when we broke up?" He yelled. You did remember but that was all back then, before all this crap happened to you.

"Huh Y/n!" He said. 

"Let me jog your memory then, you said we would always have each other, that nothing would change between us. What happened to that Y/n? You start dating someone new and forget about your best friend? I needed you so badly lately but I had no fucking way to reach you!" Harry exclaimed and now anger was pulsing through your veins, he had no fucking idea, no one did. You turned around quick and walked over to him, angry as ever.

"You do not get to fucking say that!" You screamed, tears streaming down your face.

"You have no idea the hell I've been through, you do not get to say that." You barely choked out the last bit, overly consumed by all the tears you've been keeping in lately. Harry put an arm on you and you winced, pulling back.

"Y/n, please fucking talk to me, I'm right here." He said, hands digging into his pockets. You stayed quiet as you gathered your thoughts, looking at the leaves on the ground.

"I have a friend, who found a guy whom she thought would help her get over her ex lover, but instead of just having a one night stand with this guy, she fell for him. Months passed and their relationship was absolute bliss, she was happy and just beginning to get over her ex, but then this new guy starting acting different. He was cold and distance and used alcohol to cope with everything. The first time her fiancé hit her she was told it was the last time, then he did it again and again, until this friend realized she was trapped. She couldn't leave the house and all she did was sleep to keep her mind off things. She stopped eating and reaching out to people. She was depressed and most of all, she was tired. Of everything, everyone. Of life."

Harry looked at you, his eyes were watery and he slowly walked over to you.

"And how's this friend doing now?" He said, inches away from your face.

"She's holding on" you said softly.

"You're not going back there." Harry said sternly.  

Absolute horror came over you. You stepped back and looked at harry with an exasperated expression.  

"Harry, I cant do that, no. He already doesn't know I'm here, imagine what he'll do if he finds out I've left, no. No."

"No, do you fucking hear yourself? He's beating the crap out of you, not letting you leave the house and you want to stay? You're coming home with me, I don't care."Harry said.

"Harry please, You don't understand." You said, begging through tears. You grabbed his hands as if to pull him back and he let you. You put your hands on his cheeks and forced him to look at you.

"I am fine, if I get home now he wont find out, please harry, please try and understand." You said pleading. Harrys head snapped up at you, his eyes unreadable.

"You're fine until the next time. I'm sorry but I'd be fucking insane to let you go back to that piece of shit. You're coming home with me. I don't care if I have to fucking drag you there myself." Harry finished, pulling away  from your grasp and taking your hand as he half dragged you back to the house. You couldn't convince him out here but maybe you could in front of everyone else. 

The walk back was quick, Harry walking so fast with his hand wrapped tightly around yours. You saw Evie waiting out side looking frantic, her phone pressed against her ear.

"There you guys are, I've been calling you guys for nearly an hour. You're fiancé Kevin is here Y/n, he's waiting for you inside "She said turning towards you. 

Your heart dropped to your stomach, you let go of Harrys hand, taking a slow step back.

***

Part Two is coming very soon. All feed back is welcome. Reminder I am taking requests as well. xx

[fortheloveofholland]

Can i request an imagine where girls usually go for Toni or Sweet Pea and when Jughead brings the reader, his best friend, who is a bag girl, to hang out with him Toni and Sweet Pea argue about who can get with her but she ends up wanting Fangs who isn't used to being picked over his friends?

a/n: sure thing, sweetness! also i know you said imagine but i wanted to turn it into a headcanon, please don’t hate me too much! also imma assume you meant bad girl lol. also this is so long jfc

“MAYBE STEAL A STOP SIGN OR GRAB A BURGER AFTER… UP TO YOU.”

you + jug were a motherfucking DREAM TEAM. in sync since the day you sat next to each other in world history in middle school. 

you two were practically attached at the hip until him and betty started becoming a thing. 

you didn’t mind it though, he deserved to have a love so real and wholesome so you gladly took a step back and let him have his time. 

but with jug not with you 24/7 you often found yourself in sticky situations and spent your fair share of time in a seat at the police station. 

with 3 other siblings(all under the age of 11), going in a million different directions at once, your parents didn’t really have time to constantly get you out of the station.

thats where jugs wager with keller came in. 

since jug was part of the sheriff’s sons friend group, he made a deal he’d do his best to keep kevin away from serpents if he’d keep letting you off with warnings

LETS JUST SAY YOU WERE AT ABOUT 40 WARNINGS

it wasn’t your fault though, breaking a law or two, sent a rush through your body and kept you on your toes

tonight you were at 41

it wasn’t anything major, stealing a stop sign wasn’t that illegal. 

running your fingers down the seams of the ripped jeans you wore, you sat waiting for jughead to burst through the door

5..4..3..2..1

“a stOP SIGN.. REALLY?!?!”

you shrugged it off and walked out the open door, past jughead, giving a half assed salute to the sheriff. 

jughead followed you down the familiar halls and out the door, aimlessly ranting about how ‘he can’t keep doing this’ and ‘this is the last time and if it happens again the wager is over and its on you’

he gave this speech E V E R Y T I M E

“so what social event did you have to leave this time?” 

he just rolled his eyes, getting on his motorcycle, you getting on right behind him

he quickly sped away, leaving the police station in the dust

2 minutes later you two were met with the neon lights of everyones favorite diner, pop’s

“betty or serpents..?” you asked as you two walked in to the dimly lit building

he motioned towards the booth in the very back, there sat 3 grungy looking teenagers

you made eye contact with two of them, a tall boy with a neck tattoo and a small girl with pink hair

the other one wouldn’t meet your eyes

you nodded to the two of them

jug lead the way towards his friends

“guys meet y/n, y/n meet the serpents..”

finally the third one turned to look at you and and WOWEE homeboy was a babe

everyone introduced themselves, inviting you to sit down with them

you slid into the booth with sweet pea and toni, jughead sitting next to fangs

lets just say the 5 of you ended up talking for hours about anything and everything

you told them stories about all the stupid things you managed to do in your free time

like the one time you spray painted a giant dick on the front of the high school

they sat there mouths open for a good 5 minutes

everyone thought a serpent or ghoulie had done it because of on going   rivalry

 nope, it was you and a can of blue spray paint you bought from the shop    and go on a whim

the entire night stealing glances between you and the tan boy sitting next to your best friend became a fucking game

meanwhile, the two serpents next to you had become competitive over your attention

you brushed it off, not fueling whatever fire they were trying to start

the two had started whisper arguing over who got to ask you out, toni slapping sweets shoulder before they turned back to the table with a forced smile

you reached for the basket of fries in the middle of the table, popping a few in your mouth

you looked down at your phone 

3:46am

standing up, about ready to excuse yourself to go home you grabbed another handful of fries

“question” sweet pea blurted, the entire table looking up at you

“answer” you replied

sweet pea cleared his throat 

“would you maybe wanna go catch a movie sometime?”

thanks, but no thanks man

you glanced over at fangs, who began to mess with his food with a defeated look on his face

you had to admit sweets was a cutie but he wasn’t your cup of tea

you looked back and forth between everyone at the table

“i’m good, thanks for the invite though. but fogarty, if you’re ok with it, we could catch a movie? maybe steal a stop sign or catch a burger after.. up to you.”

LEMME JUST TELL YOU HOMEBOYS FACE WENT FROM 0 TO 100 REAL QUICK

he couldn’t talk properly so he started nodding furiously 

jughead nudged his shoulder

“yeah, yeah, i’d be down for that.”

sweet pea and toni glared at each other in shock

“catch ya then” you grinned and turned on your heel, walking away from the table

everyone at the table sat there dumbfounded

especially fangs

he was always the second pick after sweet pea rejected a girl

NOT THIS TIME

BABY WAS THE MOTHER FUCKING DEAL

LETS JUST SAY HIS CONFIDENCE WAS THROUGH THE ROOF THE REST OF THE NIGHT

FANGS FOGARTY FINALLY ‘THE GUY’

[sending-the-message]

Anglerfish by coffinstuffer

Coyotes will sometimes lure domestic dogs out into the woods by playing with them. A single coyote will approach the dog, ears forward, tail up, acting friendly as can be. It may even roll on its back and expose its belly in a show of submission, to draw the dog into a bout of mock wrestling. Gradually, the games will push farther and farther away from home. Deep into the forest. That’s when the rest of the pack appears. Clusters. The dog’s new friend becomes its executioner as the pack begins to attack.

It’s not uncommon for lonely children to bond with imaginary companions. They invent invisible friends to pass the hours away with. It is considered a typically harmless behavior, as long as the child understands the ultimate difference between fantasy and reality.

I’ve often wondered about the correlation between invisible childhood friends and later mental disturbance. I wonder what the statistics of suicides and disappearances might look like, when juxtaposed against the incidence of imaginary friends and what age someone stopped seeing them.

The first invisible friend I can remember was named Kevin. He was a little boy just like me, if not a few years older. We used to play together on the beaches of Lake Michigan. Building sand castles, collecting rocks and splashing around in the water.

Kevin liked to swim a lot more than I did. He’d dog-paddle out far into the water, giggling and urging me to join him. I tried a few times, but whenever I swam more than ten feet from the shore, my mother would call me back. Kev and I played together almost every week from my early childhood until I was nine and my family moved farther inland.

I didn’t even realize that Kevin wasn’t a corporeal person until years later. I made some offhand comment to my mother about my old lakeside companion. She seemed confused, and said there were never any other children when we went to the lake. I would laugh and talk to myself. But there was no Kevin. At least, not that she ever saw.

Hyenas can mimic human laughter. There is a lot of African folklore about evil spirits that can imitate the voices of loved ones to draw you away from the village.

These stories might have been fairy tales, but they served a very real purpose. The people who survived were the ones who didn’t follow strange sounds in the dark.

I met Polly a few weeks after my family moved into a new house, in an area with dense forests and narrow roads. Rural Michigan might as well be the Canadian tundra. We were farther north than Toronto. Though the summers were pleasant enough, the winters got bitter cold.

I don’t know for a fact that I was the only one who could see Polly, because she only ever came around when I was alone. But once or twice, she seemed to disappear into thin air, which makes me think she wasn’t made of flesh and blood.

Polly was… weird. She made me nervous from the second she walked out of the woods. Maybe it was her bare, dirt-covered feet, or her wide, glassy-eyes. Even at ten years old, I knew that other children weren’t supposed to just appear like that. She shouldn’t have been wandering around in the middle of nowhere without an adult.

She always wore the same thing. A faded, floral dress, with her straw-colored hair in two messy braids. She never offered any explanation of where she came from or where her family lived, beyond just pointing back into the woods. She said they didn’t live far. They had a cabin out there.

I didn’t believe her.

But I was bored. No other children lived within walking distance. So Polly and I would kick a soccer ball around, and climb trees, and play cowboys and pirates. She always wanted me to come to her house. She said she had a lot of fun games there, but I wasn’t allowed to leave the yard.

Polly was predictable, at least. She was always waiting for me after school, regardless of the weather. When it got too cold out, we played up in my attic. I was alarmed by her lack of boots or winter clothing at first. But she always just shrugged and said the temperature didn’t bother her. She did try to get me to come outside with her sometimes. She’d say I didn’t really need a coat either. She said that if you stayed in the snow long enough, you’d stop feeling it.

At the time, I wasn’t certain she was trying to harm me. She was confused, lonely, and desperate for a friend. But at the back of my mind, a nagging voice told me she didn’t have my best interests at heart. So I never did follow her out into the elements without proper protection.

Sirens are an ancient idea. Creatures that take the shape of gorgeous women, or whatever their prey would find most enticing. Creatures that sing so beautifully, they can bewitch any listener. Creatures that are such effective predators, their prey doesn’t notice the trap until their ship has been dashed to bits on the rocky shore and there’s blood in the water.

My family moved just a little outside Detroit when I was about thirteen. I’m sure you’ve heard a lot of stories about what the city is like. What a ghost town it is. I’ve even heard it compared to a post-apocalyptic wasteland. But you have to understand, it was a pretty gradual descent from the 60’s until about 2000. In the early 90’s, it wasn’t in the terrible state it is now.

My parents and I moved into a relatively nice apartment complex. I went to the nearby middle school, and it was fine. I didn’t make friends very fast, but I also wasn’t scared for my life or anything.

Robert introduced himself a few days after we finished unpacking our boxes. He was fifteen. A tall, skinny black kid with a buzzed head and a thousand-watt smile. He said he lived down in one of the basement units, though I never saw it. His father drank a lot, and didn’t like company. We would sometimes hang out at my place, but it was kind of cramped, and my mother was usually home. So Robert and I spent a lot of time on the roof of the building.

It was terribly exciting. I remember the way my heart used to skip and flutter when we stole cigarettes from the corner store, or slipped a forty into our baggy jeans. On cool autumn nights, when Robert and I would lie back on a blanket and look at the stars, my skin would get inexplicably warm. I’d feel strange and fuzzy all over, and it was more than just the watery beer.

He talked to me a lot about how he wanted to be a pilot. He’d always dreamed of joining the Air Force. His dad said it was a stupid idea. They don’t let faggots in the army. I’d never heard that word before. Faggot. It felt heavy, and dirty, and also thrilling in the same way that everything about Robert was. When he cupped my face in his wide hands and pressed our lips together, it was like the hormonal floodgates burst open and I was suddenly hungry in ways I’d never experienced.

I started to suspect Robert was not real when I saw him fall nine stories into a dumpster below, and get up again without so much as a scratch on him. I decided to ignore all better judgment, because I wanted to keep kissing him.

We only lived in that Detroit apartment for about eight months. By the end, I was well and truly in love, and when Robert whispered that there was a way we could stay together–I almost listened. But I didn’t want to step off the roof. I was scared. I knew it would hurt. When I refused, Robert became despondent and disappeared. I didn’t see him at all the last three days I spent in that building.

Versions of skinwalkers and shape shifters appear in most cultures.

It’s a terrifying idea. Being hurt by something that looks like a friend. Danger that seems harmless. Wolves in sheep’s clothing.

I can’t help but wonder if something as old as humanity itself might be the thing these legends sprang from. Perhaps these stories are warnings of some primal memory. A creature that looks like a person, but absolutely isn’t.

After my parents split up, my mother and I went to Ohio. She had a sister there, just a short drive from Columbus. We all lived together in a trailer, along with my five-year-old cousin Becca.

I was sixteen by then, so I was often left to watch Becca after school and on weekends. I didn’t mind it too much. It wasn't like I had other friends. She’d fill in her coloring books while I did homework, then we’d go outside.

There was another little girl next door. Tess. She and Becca loved to run around together, racing up and down the dirt roads, playing tag. Whenever they’d go too far off, too close to the parkway for comfort, I’d call them back. Becca usually listened, but Tess always seemed reluctant. I didn’t think a whole lot of it.

One day, when I was a little too engrossed in reading a comic book and not watching the girls closely, I heard a shriek.

“Tess! Watch out!”

I looked up just in time to see a semi-truck blasting past, not even slowing down as it ran little Tess right over. My jaw dropped. Panic shot through me. Sure, she wasn’t my kid, and I hadn’t even been directly tasked with watching her, but this was still ostensibly my fault.

I was on my feet, ready to run to Mr. Callhun’s house to borrow his phone and call the police.

But Tess was still standing there. Completely unharmed. She skipped off the road, giggling and whispering into Becca’s ear. Becca still looked a bit shell shocked, but smiled and hugged Tess close.

My stomach twisted. It was terrible to see from the outside. One of those things trying to get my baby cousin.

When I got close enough, I grabbed Becca’s wrist and tugged her away. Tess eyed me. Cold and calculating. Unlike any of them had ever looked at me before.

Perhaps I’d gotten too old. The whimsical thinking of childhood had given way to suspicion and fear. Perhaps it could tell that I’d caught onto the game. Perhaps it was angry I could even still see it. Most people my age couldn’t.

“You leave Becca alone,” I said firm as my cracking pubescent voice could muster.

“Or what?” Tess smiled at me. I’d never noticed how sharp her canines were. How mean those overgrown, dirty fingernails looked. I hadn’t taken the time to get a really good look at her until that moment.

“I’ll hurt you.”

“Adam!” Becca began trying to struggle out of my grasp. Obviously embarrassed.

Tess had started to back away, still smiling. She probably knew I couldn’t do anything to her. But maybe I’d get someone who could. A priest or a rabbi or something.

“Becca.” I kneeled down to be at her eye level. “Look at me. Tess isn’t real, OK? Real people can’t get run over by a truck and live.”

“Let me go!” Becca wailed, pushing at my hand ineffectually, trying to squirm free.

“Becca. Please. It’s important. You can’t play by the road with Tess anymore. She wants to hurt you.”

Becca broke down into ugly tears. Face bright red. Windpipes constricting to form unholy shrieks. I sighed, picked her up and carried her back to the trailer. She cried herself out and fell asleep on the couch.

When her mother got home that night, I told her Becca was playing way too close to the road and wouldn’t listen when I said it was dangerous. I hoped that was enough to warrant keeping her inside for a while.

It wasn’t more than a few weeks before Becca stopped talking about Tess. When I asked, she said that Tess had gone away. I took comfort in the fact that I hadn’t seen her around either.

Anglerfish are grotesque creatures. Ugly, with long fangs and dull eyes. But in the depths of oceanic trenches, they can hide in the shadows. The only visible part of them is the glowing ball of light that sprouts from an antenna at the top of their head.

They advertise salvation, the only source of illumination in the pits of despair. But any creature that takes the bait meets a sticky end.

I still see them every now and then. Little old ladies begging for help across a busy street, right when the light is about to change. Pretty strangers at bars who are far too aggressive in urging me to have another drink. Lonely hitchhikers that ask to travel to places the GPS will never find. But don’t worry. They know the way.

I’m not sure what they are. I can’t be the only one who notices them. After all, most of us had the ability at one point. We just grew out of it. Perhaps we shed it as a survival mechanism.

Perhaps I’m one in a million. A kid who got stuck with a genetic allele that should have been bred out generations ago. Perhaps my existence is purposeful, and I’m a new evolution when it comes to defending ourselves against the strange and bitter unknown.

I can only say one thing for sure. Keep a close eye on your children when they start to tell you about their new invisible friend. Chances are, that friend is not friendly at all.

[foxes-evermore]

Hey,,,, if you wanna you know,,,, whip me some of that angst you got,,,, that could,,,,,, that could work,,,,, that could be cool,,.

listen,, im in physical pain and also am not able to sleep at the moment so im sitting up in the kitchen getting ready to eat a whole cheesecake and preparing to cry,,,, the angst hour is upon us,,, lets do it

if this is about the thing i said yesterday, the specific angst i was talking about was a Kevaaron Song of Achilles AU, which, im not sure if that’s what you were hoping for, but im emotional,,,, just @ me again if you meant something different sjksldjlksdf

anyway here we go its long im so sorry alksjlskdfj

I’ve said this a lot before but like

Sporty-Boy-With-A-Destiny Kevin Day

Boy-Whom-Was-Treated-Like-Shit-By-The-Only-Parent-He-Knew-But-Succeeded-Out-Of-Spite-And-Became-A-Healer Aaron Minyard

t his writes itself

originally….. listen… originally i was like “of course Riko is Paris and Ichirou is H*ctor,,,, and Jean is Helen”

bUT then i got to thinking

and i’ll be damned if the mcfucking USC Trojans aren’t the for real trojans

and like this adds a whole knew level of angst because like

hear me out, i want Jeremy to be Paris just because of the Jerejean™,, but in reality,, the boy is H*ctor. Honorable and Loyal to a Fault, and best of the best right after Kevin.

which also means that Riko is actually Menelaus, and Ichirou is Agamemnon. and that makes a lot of sense because honestly the tension between them and Kevin with everyone going “no, IM the Most Important, fuck you” is 100% there.

Back to the boys though,,

like here’s Kayleigh Day, a simple sea nymph whose only desire is to protect her son and also make sure he is remembered and worshiped forever,,, and young Kevin is so on board,,,,

meanwhile

Aaron gets in some Trouble for killing a man who dared to lay a hand on his twin brother, and Tilda is overly happy about getting rid of him for the crime, so she sells him to a king who is known for adopting outcast orphan boys for his army. Aaron never hears from/sees his mother or brother again, but ,,, he meets the stupidest boy he has ever encountered in his LIFE. the kid is an absolute IDIOT, but he is half a god and destined for greatness and everyone dotes on him. 

Aaron doesnt care.

Kevin does.

Why is Aaron ignoring him?? Why doesn’t Aaron fawn over him like the other boys do? why won’t Aaron pay attention? it’s frustrating but intriguing.

The second time Aaron gets in trouble with royalty, the king wants to know why Aaron isn’t training and sparring with the other boys. He doesnt care about anything anymore, that’s why.

But he still knows pain and fear, so he does the only thing he knows how to do when a superior is angry: he finds a small/dark place and he hides.

Of Course someone finds him, and OF COURSE it’s that talented brat.

Kevin drags him to the king because its the right thing to do, but instead of leaving him for the wolves, Kev is like “I choose him. as my brother-in-arms. i want him by my side at all times” and obviously the king is like “why” because look at this fucking tiny pale stick-boy,,, he’s not even 5 feet tall yet,,, will he ever even get over 5 feet?? (spoiler, the answer is no)

and Aaron is also like “????” and Kevin just smiles for the king and then gives Aaron this look that says “try to ignore me now, you piece of shit” :))

So these 2 spend some quality time together and for a long time it’s basically just like that one part in SoA where Achilles is training and Pat goes I stepped forward. ‘’fight me.’’

There’s so much bickering and whatnot and, just like in SoA, they don’t even truly realize they’re falling for each other until the Big Bad Ocean Mom comes and tells Aaron to fuck off and then sends Kevin away to train with the horse dad, Wymack, to keep him safe.

Aaron follows him and Kevin is like “I knew you would come :)” and Aaron is like “shut the hell your mouth” and they finish their journey together.

and they fall in L

they fall in Love on that mountain.

just two bois dicking around and experiencing foolishly strong emotions where no one can stop them.

But Then Aaron’s past that he conveniently forgot to mention catches up with him when men come to tell them that it is time to die to fight Troy. Kevin is an amazing warrior and it’s expected that he go to fight in the war, but Aaron can hear his own blood pounding, because he Remembers something that he hopes everyone else might’ve forgotten.

He’d made a promise to Jean of Sparta. not a promise. A blood oath, to go to war for the most beautiful boy in the world if something like this ever happened. and now it was happening.

Kayleigh warns him that if Kevin goes to fight the trojans, he’ll die, but she cant elaborate anymore, aside from telling them that Jeremy will die first.

Who can kill Jeremy, though? N o   o n e. Kevin is the only swordsman good enough to best him, and why would he kill the devout trojan prince? he’s an honorable man. an admirable man,,, in fact, Kevin has heard so much about him, and he adores the prince,,

and What has Jeremy ever done to him?

Kayleigh tries one more time to save her son, spirits him away to an island at night,, weds him to a beautiful princess named Thea, they promise her a child and in return she disguises him as one of her lady dancers whom she calls her “ravens”

Aaron finds him though, recognizes him, because he would know those green eyes a n y w h e r e.

Thea invites Aaron to stay, too, says that the three of them could work something out. The two agree cautiously and they start to get comfortable, incorporating Thea into this thing that used to be just them 

But eventually men come and find them,,, find Aaron,, and they’re dragged off to Troy to fight with Riko and Ichirou,, one man determined to bring back his caged lover and one determined to seize the city.

It’s exciting at first, in that “we could die any second” sort of way. everything happening all at once, arrows and spears flying, swords clanging, and fire on the beach.

but Aaron watches from day one as Kevin loses himself. the way comes back to camp the very first day of battle covered in blood and sweat and grinning like he just won the world.

Something about it twists Aaron’s stomach, but he pushes it down because there’s only room right now to be glad that his love is alive and that they’ve successfully arrived and that maybe there is hope and the war will end with both of them on the other side of it, going home.

The night after that first battle, Aaron sees a trojan girl being handed off as a spoil of war, probably to Ichirou or Riko, and demands that Kevin take her as his prize. Kevin is high off the fighting still and doesn’t really question this.

The girl’s name is Katelyn and she’s eternally grateful to Aaron, but even warier than he is of Kevin’s lust for battle and glory.

Anyway.

time passes. years. Aaron and Katelyn save as many of the captured girls as they can, and they make a family and they get close, and one day Katelyn admits that she loves Aaron.

he’s shook.

But he’s not as shook over her feelings for him as he is over her justifications for why they should be together and forget Kevin.

“He’s a monster,” she tells him. “He’s not a person anymore. He doesn’t love you, he can’t, because he doesn’t know how to love.”

and that can’t be true, but it is, isn’t it?

he only knows how to fight and kill. he only feels the need for glory, and nothing else, doesn’t he?

When did it become like this? When did Aaron lose Kevin? a few months back? years? the day they arrived at Troy? earlier?

had he ever even really had Kevin? he’d never had him to himself, at least, had he? It was always Aaron and Glory. Kevin was born to be remembered, and they both knew it. and Kevin wanted it more than anything, didn’t he?

did he want glory more than he wanted Aaron?

but it’s like Kevin is reading his mind,, every time Aaron has these thoughts, Kevin is there, on top of him, kissing him, holding him, touching him with these burning hands that leave Aaron wanting more, more, more.

he’s driving Aaron crazy and Aaron is fine with it because they have each other and they’ll be back home together one day and that’s all that matters.

and then Riko pisses Kevin off,

and the gods see this story and how it ends, and some laugh at the tragedy of it, and some hurt for the poor souls involved.

Kevin won’t let his men fight anymore, and the Trojans are taking ground back and hope is lost, but Riko and Ichirou won’t swallow their pride, and neither will Kevin.

Aaron begs. “These are our friends,” he says, “if the trojans just see you, they’ll retreat”

“You’re letting them die,” he tells Kevin from down on his knees, “you could save them. please.”

his lover’s tears are enough to snap Kevin out of his rage, but not enough to make him fight. 

“You dont have to,” Aaron bargains, “let me ride out in your armor.”

[newyorkprelawland-blog]

Unpacking The Moral And Legal Implications Of Purposive Interpretation

By Arnelle Jean-Jacques, University at Albany Class of 2023

July 18, 2020

Since the very establishment of the U.S. Constitution, framers have necessitated the ideas of the American Dream, a national ethos democratically used to express freedom of opportunity -- evidently forged through revolutionary tactics. The eventual display of further disparity made way for (arguably) one of the most influential decades of the twentieth century, during which we saw new legislation: The Civil Rights Act of 1964, which became the main substance of inquiry and analysis throughout the recent appeal to the Eleventh Circuit by Gerald Bostock (pictured above).

Bostock, who identifies as gay, had worked in Clayton County, Georgia as a child welfare services coordinator since 2003. Ten years later, he became part of a gay recreational softball league and was subject to ridicule by his cohorts and supervisors. Following an internal audit conducted by Clayton County of funds in Bostock’s control, he was dismissed for actions that were reputedly “unbecoming of a county employee.” [1]  Months thereafter, a charge of discrimination was filed with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commision, and formal legal recourse was quested in 2016 for workplace discrimination -- a prima facie violation of Title VII, the prohibition of “employment discrimination based on race, color, religion, sex and national origin.” [2]. The emphasis placed on the word sex engendered a thorough examination of the role of sex in Bostock’s termination; the opinion of the court asserting that “an employer who fires an individual for being homosexual or transgender fires that person for traits or actions it would not have questioned in members of a different sex.” [3] The court’s holding was consistent with its opinion.

The dialogue encompassing sexual orientation, which in itself provides multiple definitions, continues to evolve worldwide. The main question, though, is: Was the Supreme Court justified in practicing an exploration of the terminology of law in order to maintain consistency with modern social norms? A meticulous analysis of the court opinion plays a pivotal role in keeping a stance throughout the argument. The quotation above essentially argues that in firing Bostock, the employer discriminated against a man who is attracted to a man. Now, if this were, per se, a woman attracted to a man, it would be difficult to find the “fault” that was found by the employer. These findings by the court reveal a clear prejudice practiced by Clayton County. However, the precise purposive interpretation of the case cannot be overlooked.

It has been argued, on several occasions, that a purposive approach, and not a textualist one, best suits the distinctive legal character of regulations [4(article)]. Semantic tactics have consistently proven to win arguments by setting limits on the interpretation of legal and ethical issues, which through the relationship between subjective and objective analysis, has allowed for an influx of evolutionary statutory law, which sequentially allows for further semanticity. Quite the cycle. To pursue this study further, let’s look at the plights of refugees. As per the United States Code of Regulations, a refugee is

any person who is outside any country of such person's nationality or, in the case of a person having no nationality, is outside any country in which such person last habitually resided, and who is unable or unwilling to return to, and is unable or unwilling to avail himself or herself of the protection of, that country because of persecution or a well-founded fear of persecution on account of race, religion, nationality, membership in a particular social group, or political opinion. [5]

In order to be granted asylum, the burden of proof is on the applicant for asylum to establish that he or she is a refugee as defined in section 101(a)(42) of the Refugee Act of 1980, which provides effective settlement. A fair example of the relevance of purposive interpretation of law is the case of I.N.S. v. Cardoza-Fonseca, in which the Supreme Court sought to find whether a Nicaraguan refugee was eligible for asylum considering the fact that she was not able to establish a “clear probability of persecution” in her home country.

Now, it’s important to understand the correlation between these two issues. Refugees, along with members of the LGBTQ+ community, contribute to minority groups. Bostock was clearly dismissed on the basis gender, which inevitably goes hand in hand with identifying as gay. Cardoza was found to not be entitled to relief based on the sole effect of fear. Yet, the court held that asylum would be granted if it could be argued that the refugee would be “more likely than not” subject to persecution. Although these cases were decided decades apart, what remains of significance are the natural paradigms that could be concluded in the everyday.

It is often said that the simplicity of the law, and most other entities, play a large role in the effectiveness leading towards the end result. The true driving factor, however, is thorough analysis and the ability of both parties to pay close attention to the events surrounding them. The guiding law for these statutes were written in times when the ideas associated with these cases were extremely rare. The evolution of circumstance is clearly proven with each decade, which further proves the importance of evolutionary thinking. In a society where equality and justice is obviously needed above all else, where we see marches by the month in support of these minority groups, the greatest skill that one can possess is the capability to interpret the legal terminology of the law in order to tie into the current state of affairs that go beyond the law. In doing so, the judicial system is able to take pivotal steps towards the results that will define the next generation, and establish goals that will take it even further.

________________________________________________________________

[1] Bostock v. Clayton County, Oyez, June 15, 2020, from https://www.oyez.org/cases/2019/17-1618

[2] Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, U.S. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, SEC. 2000e-2. [Section 703], from https://www.eeoc.gov/statutes/title-vii-civil-rights-act-1964

[3] Bostock v. Clayton County Georgia, No. 17-1618 (2020).

[4] Kevin M. Stack, Interpreting Regulations, Michigan Law Review, 111 Mich. L. Rev. 355 (2012).

[5] United States Code of Regulations

[cinomar]

Baby Driver review

Directed by: Edgar Wright

Written by: Edgar Wright

Starring: Ansel Elgort, Kevin Spacey, Jamie Foxx, Lily James, Jon Hamm

My rating: 5/5 

After being blackmailed by a crime boss (Kevin Spacey), a music-loving young getaway driver (Ansel Elgort) finds himself embroiled in a life-threatening heist.

TriStar deserves more than a round of applause for Baby Driver. I expect nothing less than a standing ovation of Scorsese-winning-an-Oscar proportions for a production company willing to finance an original action movie in an industry that has become increasingly sequel-driven and risk-averse. Baby Driver is a triumph, resplendent in its tyre-screeching glory.

Never before have I seen a film that so seamlessly embeds music into its narrative. With headphones trailing perpetually from his ears, Baby (Elgort) shapes his environment through the songs he listens to. This of-the-moment phenomenon was briefly touched upon in the breezy 2013 comedy Begin Again – when Keira Knightley and Mark Ruffalo let the New York streets express their sentiments by choosing tracks on their shared iPod – but Baby Driver’s diegetic integration of Queen, The Beach Boys and Simon & Garfunkel, among other seminal artists, is unparalleled. From the opening scene, the protagonist air-violins, crashes out drum solos on his steering wheel, lip-syncs along to the sprechgesang in ‘Bellbottoms’ and nimbly taps over octaves on an imaginary keyboard. And let me tell you, the boy’s got moves. Even making a peanut-butter sandwich is a performance for him; he step-ball-changes around the kitchen with alacrity, rhythmically slipping and sliding across the hardwood floor. More importantly, these sonic elements affect the way he perceives the world. As Baby heads out on a coffee-run listening to ‘Harlem Shuffle’, its lyrics appear graffitied on a wall behind him, trumpets ring out as he passes a brass-instrument shop and his “yeah, yeah, yeah” to the barista mimics the musicians’. Wright has ingeniously switched up the building blocks of first-person cinema. Instead of showing us Baby’s outlook through point-of-view shots (largely absent), we hear his interpretation of the soundscape. It’s astounding.  

What makes Baby Driver stand head and shoulders above the (often mind-numbing) alternatives in its genre is its dedication to character development and, in turn, intellectual stimulation. Wright updates the trope of the strong-and-silent type, subverting the codes of the taciturn heroes of yesteryear – usually played by Clint Eastwood, Paul Newman or Steve McQueen – whose backstories were seldom recounted. By contrast, the reasons underpinning Baby’s modern-loner persona are set forth in sparing flashbacks, plus we hear his tinnitus (the hearing impairment that triggered his obsessive music consumption) ringing at varying volumes in several sequences. I hadn’t expected much from Elgort (best known as the weepy teen in The Fault in Our Stars), but he actually brings a lot to the role, exuding bad-boy coolness in his retro shades and bomber jacket. He reminds me of a young Jean-Paul Belmondo and I’m very into it.    

Finally, it would be amiss not to mention those adrenalin-inducing car chases, which were each meticulously planned out by Wright and his cinematographer and shot without the crutch of a green screen. The mind often wanders when faced with ten straight minutes of weaving, skidding and dodging, and yet here we are kept engaged by unexpected twists and, as before, the ever-present music. Where other films superimpose songs onto the action in post-production, this one threads them into the scenes’ very DNA, filling each impeccably timed door slam and gunshot with sonorous significance.

With an eye-watering rating of 97% on Rotten Tomatoes, Baby Driver is a cinephile’s film par excellence, boasting a hyper-stylised sensory richness that I’m sure will prove even more enjoyable on repeat viewings. It is, without a shadow of a doubt, one of the best things to have graced our screens since Awards Season. 

[treshorneboys]

I know why the caged bird sings

Read it on AO3

Chapter 2/? | 1

Knowing that Kevin had been a highly sought-after musician since he was six years old, Neil wasn’t surprised when he was led to an obviously expensive, sleek black car. However, what did surprise him was the fact that Andrew, not Kevin, pulled the car remote out of his pocket.

“Duffle in the trunk. The guitar can go on the back seat with you.”

Neil rushed to comply, even though he was loathe to leave his duffle alone. He noticed Kevin beeline straight for the shotgun seat whilst Andrew entered the driver’s side. As he slid into the backseat, Kevin caught his confused gaze in the mirror; the way it bounced between him and Andrew, and correctly guessed his unspoken question.

“If you think I would waste money on a laughably frivolous thing like this car, you’re more stupid than I thought.”

Neil’s questioning gaze moved to Andrew, who was busy reversing. Still, he raised his eyebrow.

“Best and only gift my mother’s given me.”

Neil turned that over in his mind as Andrew started driving. Andrew drove recklessly and dangerously; weaving through streets and around cars like a needle through thread, seemingly ignorant of the horns beeping at his barely-announced turns and merges. The radio was tuned to a generics hits station that none of them were listening to, and Neil was watching the scenery flash past in a blur. He let the mundanity of it all lull him and let his mind go blank.

Their destination was a two-story house painted an off-white, a small porch wrapping around the front. It was all very… normal; more normal than Neil would have really given Andrew and Kevin credit for. There weren’t any other cars in the driveway, though Neil noticed that some lights in the house were on.

“How many people, exactly, do you live with?” Neil asked, trepidation suddenly worming its way into his stomach. The last time he had been in a house with a large number of people was when he was still living with his father.

“The whole band,” Kevin answered, “since they’re all Andrew’s family it makes sense for them to live with us, as well as the fact it’s just more convenient.”

“The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,” Andrew responded smoothly, “which reminds me. I need to have a word with Neil, so why don’t you go warn Aaron and Nicky of our arrival.”

Kevin opened his mouth halfway, presumably to argue, however he thought better of it when Andrew sent him a look. With only minimal huff, he levered himself out of the car and marched to the front door, which he opened with his own keys and disappeared into.

“Front seat,” Andrew said, releasing his hands from their grip on the steering wheel and turning to rummage for something in his door. By the time Neil had gotten out of the car and re-entered on the passenger's side, Andrew had dug out a packet of Marlboro Reds. He shook out a cigarette from the half-empty packet, lit it with a rectangular silver lighter, and took a drag; holding the smoke in his lungs while giving Neil an assessing gaze before blowing the smoke out the window.

It reminded him terribly of his mother.

“One house rule you should probably know, as I’m feeling quite generous today,” he flicked the ash from the tip of his cigarette out the window, “don’t touch my things. There will be consequences if you do.”

Neil knew innately that when Andrew said ‘things’, he didn’t actually mean objects.

“I thought you said being related doesn’t mean you’re family,” Neil replied. The smell of the smoke made Neil more relaxed than he really should be, even though Neil’s mother smoked Sterlings.

Andrew gave him a blank stare before raising the cigarette to his lips, “no, it doesn’t,” he said, “but I keep my promises, no matter who I make them with.”

“Well don’t worry, I’m not interested,” Neil was aching to take the cigarette packet out of Andrew’s hands and light them one by one. Instead, Andrew stubbed his out.

“I don’t worry. Get your stuff.”

Neil did as he was told, and Andrew didn’t wait for him; when he opened the trunk to pull out his duffle, the familiar weight comforting, he heard the locks pop and looked over to see Andrew already walking into the house. Neil slammed it closed and made sure his duffel strap was secured around his shoulder, before deciding he couldn’t put it off any longer and followed after Andrew. He closed the front door behind him on his way in, and followed voices deeper into the house.

There were four people in the living room. Andrew was just settling into an armchair whilst Kevin was lounging on the couch. Two people who must’ve been Nicky and Aaron were sitting in bean bags near the flat screen TV, which was paused on some type of game. They were both looking at Neil. Immediately Neil knew which one was Aaron; he looked exactly like Andrew except for a few minor differences- while Andrew’s  shoulders were broad Aaron’s were narrower, where Andrew’s hair was grown out so that it curled around the nape of his neck Aaron’s was cropped neatly.  Aaron was also without the armbands that Andrew wore, even though the rest of their fashion sense was quite similar from what Neil could see- consisting of dark shirts and simple but expensive-looking jeans.

Which meant the person sitting in the other beanbag was most likely their cousin Nicky, though Nicky didn’t look anything like the twins. His skin was a chestnut brown, dark in comparison to their fair skin. His hair, black and falling to his shoulders in loose waves, and his eyes, ebony enough that the pupils almost got lost in them, were also a stark contrast to his cousin’s light gold colouring. He was the first one to greet Neil with a wide smile full of white teeth.

“You must be Neil,” he said, trying and failing to get out of his beanbag before just rolling out of it. Beside him, Aaron snorted.

“Just wait ‘till you try to get out of yours,” Nicky countered, then held out a hand, presumably for Neil to shake, “I’m Nicholas Hemmick, you can call me Nicky if you let me call you anytime.”

Neil heard a groan, though he was too busy staring at Nicky’s outstretched hand until the offending extremity was lowered. Nicky wiped his palm on his pants, his smile slightly dimmed but still wide.

“Kevin’s given us the basic rundown of why you’re here, so I’d like to formally welcome you to the band. We call ourselves Collateral Damage though the name is subject to change if you have any ideas. Our setup is in the basement, but it also acts as Kevin’s room because he’s a music freak and if he’s separated from it for like .2 seconds he stops functioning. Practice normally starts just after lunch because we run on Kevin Time and Kevin Time doesn’t exist until at least 9:30.”

Neil observed that Nicky very much liked to talk. He slightly tuned out after Nicky told him he’d be sleeping on the couch as they only have three other bedrooms, and directed his mind towards more pressing matters, such as where to stow his duffle. For now he’d just have to keep it on his person until he got a safe or something comparable the next day.

“And that’s basically the rundown!” Nicky declared, clapping his hands and startling Neil out of his thoughts. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Andrew watching him like a hawk.

“You forgot one thing,” Andrew said, tapping his fingers on the edge of his armchair; a pitter-patter sound, onetwothreefourfive, “I think we should take Neil out, an initiation if you will, perhaps at Eden’s.”

The responses to Andrew’s suggestion ranged from appalled to dismayed, and Kevin responded with a straight up, “no.”

Neil knew that whatever Andrew suggested, it wasn’t good.

To Neil’s surprise, Nicky spoke next in German, “Andrew you know what happened to the last potential band member we hired who you took to Eden’s. She almost straight-up killed herself. You can’t let that happen again.”

“You know that I will not let threats into my house unless I correctly prepare for them,” Andrew replied, also switching to German, “and Janie would’ve done it anyway, I just helped her along.”

It seemed as if Kevin didn’t speak the language, seeing as he was following the cousin’s exchange as if watching a tennis match. Aaron was looking on with slight interest, which made Neil assume that he shared the language with his relatives.

“Why don’t you get to know him like, I don’t know, a normal person?” Nicky exclaimed, then darted his eyes towards Neil and continued in a lower voice, “if you actually find any damning evidence against him then I can’t stop you, but at least give him a chance, please.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed and his mouth turned vaguely into a sneer. It was the most emotion Neil had seen him convey yet.

“You know I hate that word,” he snarled in English, before turning to Kevin, “and you?”

Kevin looked taken aback for a moment before settling his features into a good impression of a blank canvas.

“I won’t have you ruin our chance. He might be our only shot.”

Neil thought that they’d probably forgotten he was in the room.

Andrew growled unintelligibly before grabbing Kevin by the collar. Shock registered on Kevin’s face.

“I will keep my promise, no matter how much to try to undermine it with your stupidity.”

Andrew gave Neil one last scathing look before marching out of the room; Neil could hear his footsteps go up the stairs.

“Well,” Aaron deadpanned, “as interesting as that was, he’s going to be a real pain in the ass to deal with tomorrow,” he shot a glare at Neil, as if it was wholly his fault, “I’m going to bed.”

Aaron followed after his brother, and Nicky soon left as well, with a parting look at Neil. Kevin rose from his spot on the couch, and began making his way out too; though stopped halfway across the room and turned to Neil.

“I don’t care what you do in your free time, just make sure you’re here for practice. And try not to aggravate Andrew too much, he’s vicious.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Neil said drily, and Kevin shrugged and left the room.

Left alone to his thoughts, Neil went through the motions of his before-bed routine. Staying still to check that no one was coming downstairs again, he opened his duffel and began unpacking all his things, checking and double-checking the items in there. He’d have to stock up on hair dye and buy himself some toiletries, as there won’t be any shitty motel soap and he won’t stoop so low as to use some that belonged to the household. The last item in his bag, buried under everything, was an unassuming black binder, which he quickly rifled through to check that everything was in its place before painstakingly packing everything back in. It all fit perfectly.

He climbed onto the couch, setting a pillow behind his head and a blanket over his body. Neil assumed they were left by Nicky, he was sure that none of the others were civil enough to even think of it. Neil ket his duffle bag squeezed between him and the back of the couch; and even though its sharp edges were pressing into him it was still the most comfortable sleeping arrangement he’d had in days.

Even though he was bone-tired and sore, Neil slept lightly.