#dennis' notebook;

[lovelycatdraws]

*canned laughter*

[projectiondepartment]

"With Guibert, we enter a vacant universe, a chamber of relics. The atmosphere is muddled; he speaks of the museum as a “palace of desirable monsters,” which was the title of the exhibition organized in March 2020 at Les Douches la Galerie in Paris. Those photos are dated 1978, the year he submitted his manuscript of Propaganda Death—his first novel—to editor Régine Deforges. He was only twenty-one-years-old. Propaganda Death is composed of twelve short stories lingering on the interiority of his body and can be seen as the literary matrix of his museum photographs. It’s about his viscera, an ass on a dissection table, multiple penises, shit, solid and stinking snot, or the membrane of the foreskin covering a pink acorn. It is violently organic, barbaric, and delicate. One of the questions that arises when encountering this book as well as his photos is: If nudity is outrageous, what about what is behind the skin? As he himself says in his Intrepid Articles, “If God created man in his own image, how can we dissect God?”

photos and text from How to Dissect God? by Pierre-Alexandre Mateos and Charles Teyssou

[moviesinfocus]

Notebook Reviews: MIDNIGHT RUN

Martin Brest – 1988. Beverly Hills Cop director Martin Brest once again tackles the action-comedy and delivers an enjoyable buddy movie with Midnight Run. George Gallo‘s screenplay hits the mark and the cast is off-the-chart great: Robert De Niro, Charles Grodin, Yaphet Kotto, John Ashton, Dennis Farina, Joe Pantoliano and Philip Baker Hall! De Niro seems to be relaxed and enjoying himself and…

[prnstarmartini111]

Summary: detective!reader x sergeant!rafe

Y/N had been transfered to the Homicide Unit a week ago and all she can think about is her sergeant with his damn holster (can you tell I have a thing for shoulder holsters?)

The floor of the Homicide Unit was colder than the rest of the precinct. Maybe not literally, but it felt that way. Less chatter, more tension, and an unspoken pressure that clung to your shoulders the moment the elevator doors slid shut behind you. Y/N had been there a week.

Her transfer had gone through on a Thursday. New badge, new desk, same city but this was Homicide now. The big leagues.

She was proud to be here. Even if no one else seemed to care.

Especially not Lieutenant Rawlins, who’d barely said two words to her that weren’t orders. He never looked at her like a cop, just like someone who was in his way. And most of the squad had followed his lead. The blood spatter analyst, Denny, couldn’t stop making comments about how “refreshing” it was to have a woman around.

But the one she was drawn to the most was Rafe Cameron.

Sergeant Cameron. Second in command. The only one in the room Rawlins actually listened to. He was professional, calm, unreadable, always composed. The kind of man who could walk into a murder scene with a black coffee in one hand and still catch every detail no one else did.

Y/N hated how easily her eyes tracked him when he passed her desk. The way his sleeves were always rolled up, or how his shoulder holster cut across his chest when he came back from the field. She knew it was stupid. Knew the last thing she needed was a crush, especially not here, especially not on the sergant of all people. But it was there, humming under her skin whenever she heard his voice behind her.

The squad was deep into a case now. Four bodies. Same M.O. Same eerily clean scenes. A signature they were only just starting to admit was real. Everyone was tense. Restless. Today’s briefing felt like a storm waiting to break.

Y/N sat near the back, notebook open, eyes sharp. Rawlins went over the fourth victim—Jane Doe, found in a park bathroom, mid-20s, no ID. Same bleach traces, same puncture wounds to the neck. The killer was getting bolder. Or more confident.

She flipped back a few pages in her notes. There was something there. She didn’t have all the pieces, but—

She raised her hand.

Rawlins saw it. Paused.

“Yes?” he said, already unimpressed.

“I was thinking...there’s overlap between the victims’ last known locations. A small area, maybe five or six blocks, where their commutes might’ve intersected. What if the killer isn’t targeting people he knows but people he watches? Something about routine?Pattern?”

There was a long silence. Rawlins looked at her like she was a static buzz on his radio.

“We’re not guessing,” he said flatly. “Stick to the footage review. You’ve got the files.”

Y/N nodded, throat tight. “Yes, sir.”

She didn’t look at anyone as she stood and gathered her things.

Y/N did as told and spent her entire afternoon watching thousands of different footages and reading the files that she was given. It was almost five when she found it.

Buried in the middle of a transit report, misfiled, wrong date on the label, probably never meant to be in that pile at all. But there it was. Small, seemingly insignificant. But enough to make her heart lift.

She checked it twice. Three times.

And then she was walking, papers in hand, nerves a live wire under her skin, as she made her way to the far end of the corridor.

Cameron’s office was mostly glass. Sparse. A desk, a whiteboard, a jacket slung over the back of a chair. The blinds were half-closed. The door, cracked.

She knocked once. She hated the way her pulse jumped when he looked up from the file on his desk.

He wasn’t wearing his jacket. Just a dark button-up, sleeves rolled to the elbows, and the shoulder holster strapped across his chest. She didn’t mean to notice it. But she did. She noticed everything. The line of muscle under the shirt. The steady rise and fall of his breath. The quiet intensity that always clung to him like it had nowhere else to be.

“Detective” he said, voice low.

“I-” She hesitated. Swallowed. “I think I found something. It’s probably nothing. But it stood out.”

She held the papers out to him. He read the first page. Then the second.

His expression didn’t change much, but she caught it. The slight shift in his brow. The way his jaw flexed, just once.

“Where was this?”

“Transit logs. It was misfiled.”

His gaze flicked up to hers. “You sure it’s legit?”

“Yes” she said, steadier now. “I triple-checked it.”

He nodded slowly, flipping the last page closed. “Good work.”

She stayed there, caught in the space between leaving and not wanting to. Her fingers curled at her sides. “Also-um... I kept thinking about that theory I mentioned earlier. The geographic overlap.”

He didn’t move. Just watched her. Waiting.

“I ran a few more cross-checks. There’s a stretch of blocks where all four victims would’ve passed through regularly. It’s a narrow area, but… it’s something. I thought maybe he’s targeting from a fixed position. Somewhere in that zone.”

Rafe exhaled through his nose, like he was weighing it.

“It’s an angle,” he said finally. “But it’s still thin. Rawlins won’t shift the focus without more to go on.”

She nodded. Of course. “Right. I figured.”

He looked at her again, longer this time.

“Keep digging” he said.

She nodded once and turned to leave, feeling his eyes on her back the entire way out.

Back to the desk. Back to the files.

But this time, her chest felt a little tighter. And she didn’t stop thinking about the way he looked in that damn holster.

-------------------------------------

The bullpen had fallen quiet hours ago. Y/N sat alone, the only light coming from her monitor and the desk lamp she’d clicked on sometime after nine. Her eyes were dry from staring too long. Her notes were a mess of arrows and scribbled thoughts. She should’ve gone home an hour ago, maybe two.

But she didn’t want to leave. She wanted to finish the files.

She stretched, rolling her neck, and got up to grab a glass of water. The chilled silence of the unit wrapped around her as she walked. Halfway down the hall, a familiar glow caught her eye, light leaking from the glass walls of an office at the end.

Rafe’s.

She stopped. Blinked.

His office light was on.

Her heart did a small, inexplicable thing in her chest.

She hesitated a moment, then smoothed her shirt down, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and walked over.

The door was slightly ajar. She knocked once against the frame.

He looked up from behind his desk, surprised for a half-second before settling into that usual unreadable calm.

“Y/N” he said. “What are you still doing here?”

She stepped in, just past the door. “I noticed your light was on.”

He raised a brow. “You’re still working?”

“I wanted to finish the files. I’m almost done.” She smiled “You?”

He glanced at his screen. “Wrapping up a report.”

She nodded and followed his line of sight, then noticed the glass near his laptop, the amber liquid catching the light.

“You’re allowed to drink at your desk?” she asked, half teasing.

He gave a slow, tired smile. “Only after ten.”

She hesitated. “You sharing?”

He didn’t answer right away, just reached for the second glass on the corner of the desk and filled it for her.

She walked over and took it, her fingers brushing his just barely.

“Thanks” she said, and took a sip.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The only sound was the quiet tick of a wall clock and the hum of his Laptop.

She sat in the chair across from him. Just watching him work.

His focus was sharp, even now, one hand on the keyboard, eyes flicking over the screen, jaw tight with whatever thought he wasn’t saying out loud. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled to the elbows, and that holster still cut across his chest, dark leather and black shirt.

She didn’t mean to stare.

A few minutes passed like that. Then he leaned back with a quiet exhale, pinching the bridge of his nose.

She tilted her head. “Do you want me to take a look?”

He glanced over “Sure”

She walked around the desk, now standing beside him, to take a look at the screen.

“It’s good” she said.

“Yeah?” he asked, still looking at her.

She hummed an affirmative, then turned to meet his gaze.

They were close now.

Too close.

She didn’t step back. Neither did he.

His hand brushed against her leg—just a shift of movement—but it felt deliberate. Her breath caught.

“Y/N” he said softly, like a warning.

But she just leaned in to close the small gap between them.

He didn’t pull away.

Her glass was set somewhere behind her, forgotten. His hands were warm when they caught her waist, then her back, pulling her closer as his chair rolled slightly back with the shift. She leaned into him, lips parting against his, her hands bracing on his shoulders, then sliding into his hair.

His mouth moved against hers with restraint that only barely held, like he’d been holding back for a long time.

He pulled her on top of him. Her legs straddling his waist.

The moment she started to move, grinding down in slow rolls, his breath hitched slightly.

His hands found her waist. His grip firm and guiding, dragging her down just a little bit harder. His head fell back against the back of his chair.

A groan escaping his lips.

"Fuck"

His reaction gave her confidence and she slowed her movement, grinding down in slow, teasing rolls.

Without any warning he pulled up and quickly spun her around and bent her over his desk, a soft gasp escaping her lips at the cool contrast of the cold wood on her hot skin.

"Quit teasing. This is what you came for?" He asked. Her heart skipped at the sound of his belt unbuckling behind her.

His hand crept up her skirt, sending shivers up her spine, as he hooked his fingers around the band of her panties, tugging them down.

Her cheeks flushed.

“Hmm?” He mused, awaiting an answer.

The sound of her gasp echoed off the walls, gripping the desk as she anchored herself, swallowing a choked moan.

She felt the heat of him pressing against her entrance, the head of his cock teasing hersensitive clit. She let out a breathy moan, trying to rock herself backwards to feel him.

His hand pressed firmly on her back, holding her in place.

“I need you to answer me, sweetheart,” he instructed, “is this what you came for?”

She nodded, begging he would take the hint.

Of course he didn't, continuing to tease, as his hand caressed her backside, his lips planting kisses across her exposed skin.

"Yes- Fuck." She rushed, with desperate cries.

Without a moment of hesitation his cock slid inside, both of them lowly moaning in pleasure.

His hand found its place on her waist, gripping tight as he started a rhythm, bottom lip slipping between her teeth as she willed herself not to moan.

"That's it, sweetheart." he praised, his cock stretching her out with every passing second.

“You take it so well, don’t you?” He groaned.

“You’re- you- fuck.” she cried, biting her lip to surpress her moans.

Rafe leaned over, his shakey breath tickling her ear. “Words, baby"

But her brain was too foggy to form a coherent sentence, irritation a mere afterthought as he hit every spot, his cock filling her perfectly.

His hips slammed into her, lewd moans tumbling past her lips before he pressed his hand over her mouth.

He grunts, grabbing her hips and slamming himself into her, his cock hitting just the right spot, as she cries out, desperate moans muffled by his palm.

Her hands gripped the desk beneath her, her lips parted like she wanted to say something, but all that came out was a broken little gasp.

“Oh fuck—”

She tried to keep it together but her stomach tightened.

Her breathing hitched. Her legs started to shake.

"Fuck- I'm so close-"

“Yeah you are” he groaned.

Her body snapped. The orgasm hit like a wave crashing through her, ripping the air from her lungs. Her moans were raw and broken.

He groaned softly, riding out his highs before she whimpered at the feeling of him slipping out of her, both panting.

The silence between them was loud as they caught their breaths. Rafe leaned down, sliding her panties back up before giving her a soft tap on the ass.

[macdennisnation]

ideal charden dynamic to me is dennis thinking he’s in control and calling all the shots, thinking charlie has no idea what’s going on, and charlie fucking with him the entire time.

and then there’s finally a moment where dennis can see how monumentally wildly he’s underestimated him and suddenly he’s so impressed with charlie and all that he is. and like he’s still a shithead and so is charlie but now he has to admit that charlie is smart as fuck and charlie is just like “yeah man, took you long enough.”

and then charlie sniffs some glue and kisses dennis really hard on the mouth and then goes back to drawing in his notebook with broken crayons and pausing every now and then to smile at dennis. and dennis just watches him transfixed and turned on and horrified all at once.

[theresamouseinmyhouse]

tim + brentwood characters as boys i was legitimately friends with in high school and think of every single day:

Buzz- Jake (fake names for all of my friends bc privacy reasons) who complained about hanging out with nerds, got into a fistfight with someone else on his football team bc they called us nerds, was thoroughly convinced he'd run laps faster if he was hopped up on pixie stix (i held his backback while he got sick in the bathroom👍👍), he tried to hit on my older sister and she laughed at him, he was so put out he contemplated becoming a monk for a week

Wes: Max, who i helped sneak an entire bottle of orange juice on to the bus to our choir competition, but was unaware he brought a full bottle of vodka as well, ended up crying on our choir teacher for the three hours after the comp and i bought him a box of donuts after school, he did not stop doing this and had severe beef with a kid he knew in 5th grade and hadnt seen since but also hadnt forgotten their name and last i knew, was still awaiting for a dreaded confrontation to eventually come

Kip: Eduardo, who we all thought was studying during lunch but was actually filling his notebook with weird facts he observed about us and also managed to chew several packs of gum at once throughout our math class before the teacher noticed him, didnt know the plot to the clockwork orange so i lied about it for 5 weeks before he read it and called me just to tell me "you lying frog" befire he hung up

Ali: Ángel, who lied several times on separate occasions to the campus security about where people smoked, forgot what chihuahuas were twice, and almost drowned when he was swimming except his older brother got him and he immediately called me while waiting for the ambulance to tell me he almost fucking died, randomly sang a song about crabs he made up throughout the day

Danny: Ben, helped me with my biology homework because i helped him with essays, once released a live rat into the computer classroom because he had beef with the teacher, once texted me at 11 p.m. because he was having a mental breakdown over his chem work before he realized he was actually looking at trig and i told him id shoot him with a tranq gun if he woke me up like this again, kept forgetting how to tie his shoes

Tim: Teddy, he catfished 6 men over the age of 30 by pretending to be a 13 yr old girl and lured them to the part of town where there is an absurd amount of wild dogs that evade animal control and are known to maul humans, i watched him lockpick the english teacher's door so he could take back an essay he wrote bc it was actually a slash fic he printed out and turned in by accident, we hung out at a dennys once and he accidentally put his hand in syrup, looked me dead in the eye and said "i did that bc im gay" and wore pastel pink for a month bc it pissed off the hall monitor, his dad, and also six teachers he didnt even have class with

[streamafterlaughter]

Safe

masterlist | nav

summary: a night out with your friends turns sour, but you’re rescued by an unexpected hero

A/N: i wrote a chapter based on this post for my main fic, but feel a desperate need to write it again putting more detail into it bc i love a fictional man covered in blood idk what to tell you!!! let me know if you want a part II, im feeling a miniverse comin’ on (dw, chapter 23 of FD is in the works, i promise!) reblogs and comments always appreciated!

tags/tw: friends to lovers, mentions of sexual harassment, blood, violence (eddie gets in a fight), swearing, slut shaming, confessions, drunkish!eddie. (lmk if i missed something!) fluff, angst, slight hurt/comfort. reader and eddie are about 22-23, out of high school, happy etc etc. best friend!robin and best friend!steve feature, of course.

—

Your friendship had been simple, at first. You and Eddie had met as kids, before boys had cooties and girls were lame. Eddie had been cornered on the playground, by some giants in the grade above you. They'd shoved him against the chain link fence, their greasy leader demanding he hand over his lunch money. When Eddie blubbered that he didn’t have any, that he hadn’t eaten lunch in weeks, the goons cackled at him, shoving him to the ground while calling him things like “trailer trash.” You couldn’t stand it, even at eleven years old. The poor kid, with hair buzzed closely to his scalp, dressed in all black, carrying around a battered notebook with doodles of dragons on its cover. Your face had warmed with anger, hands balled into fists ready to swing on the group that would outnumber you five to two, or five to one if you were being realistic. This kid clearly wasn’t a fighter.

“Hey!” You had shouted, stomping your worn out converse against the mulch of the playground. “What the hell are you doing, Jared?” You hadn’t been afraid to get in the kid’s face, brows furrowed together as you jabbed your tiny finger into his puffed out chest. “What’s he ever done to you, huh? I don’t think it’s his fault your mother left.” You know now, it wasn’t the nicest thing to say, but it had worked. Jared’s goons had gone silent, anticipating his retort, but all he’d done was cry. What a bitch.

When he’d run, tail tucked between his legs, you’d turned to the cowering boy behind you, offering your hand. “You okay?”

He’d nodded, clearly still shaken up but trying to be brave. “I can take care of myself.” Of course, it had been embarrassing. Not because you were a girl, or younger than him, but you were braver. You didn’t give a shit what people thought of you. Even then, he could tell. You were fucking cool.

”Yeah, sure looked like it. Whatever. I’m Y/n.” You held out your hand to him again, this time to shake, like you were a seasoned lawyer, or something.

“Eddie.” He’d taken your hand, given it a brief shake, but you could tell he was nervous by the way your palm stuck to his.

”Hi, Eddie. You wanna walk to Benny’s with me? Get some burgers?”

He’d shaken his head. “I don’t have money.”

You’d only shrugged. “I got it.” You didn’t think mentioning that Benny was your uncle, or that you and your friends could always eat free, was worth mentioning. From that day on, you and Eddie had been inseparable.

—

The Hideout is loud. You’re wrapped around your best friend’s arm as he leads you through the bar. It’s the only time you’ve seen this place busy, let alone filled with people that don’t qualify for a discount at Denny’s.

The crowd must be the fault of the band. They're full of life on the tiny stage in the back of the bar, somehow convincing patrons to take to the sticky wooden floor to dance.

“You wanna drink, sweets?” You hear him even over the loud music, like a siren call meant only for you.

“Yes, please!” You look up at Eddie, who’s already staring at you. His rich brown eyes sparkle in the dancing stage lights, and you find your tongue in knots at the sight of him.

He nods, sliding his jacket from your shoulders before seating you at a table. “I’ll be right back!” He promises before skipping off to the bar. You keep your eyes trained on him, hypnotized by the way he glided towards the bar, weaving between the mass of gyrating bodies.

You can’t exactly pinpoint when your feelings for him started changing. You assume it had to have been high school. He started growing his hair out, dressing in leather and denim, and listening to a lot of heavy metal. Something about it was attractive to you, watching your best friend become the man he is now, at twenty three years old.

Even with an exterior most find scary, Eddie is still the kindest soul you know. That’s what really pulled you in. He’s always treated you with kindness and care, never once letting you leave his house angry, and knowing just what to say to calm you down. He always makes sure you’re home safe after a night drinking, sometimes even willing to forfeit his own fun to drive you to your place, or crash at his trailer.

Of course, these feelings have stayed stuffed deep, deep down. You can’t bring yourself to ruin what you have with him, risking your closest friendship to maybe be told what you want to hear.

“Hey! You still in there?” Eddie waves his decorated hand a few inches from your face, and you’re dragged back to earth. He places your drink on the table in front of you.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Penny for your thoughts?” He rests his chin on his knuckles, full attention on you, and you feel your face warm.

“Just happy to be out with you is all.” Not a lie, but not exactly the truth. Safe.

“Alright.” He’s never been one to pry. “You wanna dance?” The song has changed to something slower, and you try not to read into his timing as you nod your head cautiously, taking Eddie’s hand as he leads you to the floor.

Eddie places his hands on either of your hips, and you can’t help but stiffen. “This alright?” He must have felt it too.

“Yes, yeah,” You stumble to reassure him, nervous you’ll scare him off. He’s always been such a gentleman, so careful with you.

You drape your arms around his neck loosely, casually. Safely. Still just two friends, swaying to some angst ridden tune you can’t understand the words to.

—

It’s later when Steve and Robin arrive, already drunk from spending the night at a concert in the city. You’re still not down for the count, and Eddie’s nursing his sixth drink of the night as the music has switched from guitar driven to computer beats coming from a turntable.

“Since when does The Hideout hire DJs?” Robin shouts over the bass driven music, eyes squinting in the bright lights.

“Ever since the place sold to some big wig in Indy, they’ve been doing this shit on weekends!” Eddie informs her as Steve starts talking about how “this is actually a great business tactic.” You decide now is a good time to slip back to the bar for a refill.

Unfortunately, you are one of about fifty people to have that idea, and you groan as you fight to find an open space along the counter. You mumble “excuse me” after “sorry” after “move, please!” until you’ve almost reached the front. As you’re about to order, you feel a hand squeeze your ass.

You whip your head around, and come face to face with a large, muscular man in a tight t-shirt and even tighter jeans.

“Hey, baby,” He winks, the disgusting smirk on his face sending a chill through your body. “You here all by yourself, gorgeous?” Your throat tightens. This is what it’s like, you know that. You shouldn’t be by yourself, that was your mistake. Your throat tightens, impossibly dry, before looking back up at this man. He is seemingly a foot and a half taller than you, likely able to break you in half using only his bicep, and he’s is standing way too close. You can even smell the whiskey on his tongue. “Uh, well,”

“Cmon, let’s go dance, huh?” He interrupts, snatching your wrist with an iron grip, and you squeeze your eyes shut as he leads you towards the dance floor, already formulating an escape route. You’ll say you need to use the bathroom, then you’ll find your friends and leave. Easy enough, right? Unfortunately as you reach the dance floor, the song slows again and you find yourself flush against this beast of a man, his big arms caging you into his chest. You feel the tears start to well in your eyes, blurring your already obscured vision. Your heart drops into your stomach when you realize you are completely, fully, and hopelessly trapped.

—

“Sooo,” Robin turns to Eddie, who’s been staring across into space, daydreaming about you for the last five minutes. “Where’s your girl?”

“What?” He’d heard her, but he wants to hear it again. And again and again.

“Your baby, dingus! You’re one true-“

“Would you shut up?” He interrupts her slurring of teasing, aching jabs, feeling his face heat up with every syllable. “She’s not my- y’know, she’s not mine.”

“Oh, please!” Steve snorts, causing Eddie to whip his head to look at him. “We all know she’s yours, and you’re hers, and all that romantic bullshit, okay? No use trying to squirm out of it. Be grateful you got that much. We all know she loves you.”

He rolls his eyes, but his heart is skipping with each word. He wants to believe them, desperately. He can’t bring himself to have those hopes, though, not about you. He’d only disappoint you, or scare you off when he got too close. It’s better, keeping you at a distance. Safer.

“Is that… No,” Robin looks beyond Eddie, and he turns to follow her gaze. He finds you easily, the only figure he’d recognize in such a loud, multicolored environment. You’re squished against a boulder of a man as you sway to the music, but he can’t see your face. Eddie feels his heart catch in his throat as he turns back to his friends.

“See? I told you she’s not mine.” He clears his throat when he hears his own voice crack. Not fucking now.

“Who is that guy?” Steve asks, craning his neck to get a better view.

“Probably just some club sleaze, she’s probably not even having fun.” Robin shrugs. Her comment clicks in Eddie’s brain before it clicks in her own, though.

“I gotta go.” He shoves himself from the table.

“Should I go with him?”

Robin shrugs. “That dude is gigantic. Maybe watch his back.”

—

“Hey, um,” The song has ended, and you need to get the fuck out of here. “I’ll be right back, I gotta use the ladies’ room,” You peel yourself away from him, but he grabs your arm before you can.

“Nuh uh, you can use the bathroom at my place. C’mon.” There will be no talking yourself out of this. Usually you can confuse a man into leaving you alone, but this guy’s different. You can sense the danger, the complete lack of empathy, like it’s a scent he’s giving off. You have to make a scene.

You twist your arm, writhing to get out of his grip, when you feel the cooling rings of a familiar hand on your shoulder. “Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie’s voice is low, so this man/monster can’t hear him. “I’m gonna get you out of here. Hang on.” He moves in front of you, between you and the giant causing him to drop your arm. There’s an angry red ring of his lasting grip around your wrist. “You gotta problem, buddy?” The guy puffs his chest out at Eddie, like some weird, animalistic instinct to seem bigger. Like he needs that advantage.

“Yeah, I do. Why were your hands on my girl?”

You try not to think about the words too much. Despite the situation though, you feel your heart skip. Steve joins him beside you, placing his hand on your other shoulder protectively.

“Your girl, huh? Well your girl’s a fuckin’ slut then, she’s been dancing with me for the last ten minutes.”

“What the fuck did you just call her, you prick?”

“You heard me bitch boy, she’s a slut! And I like my girls dirty.” Before Eddie can respond, the guy swings his arm into Eddie’s unsuspecting face as you watch, frozen and helpless. Your hands fly to your mouth to muffle the shriek, but you catch the attention of some nearby patrons.

Eddie doesn’t go down, though. The adrenaline keeps him on his feet. “Oh, we’re doin’ this now?” Eddie smirks as he wipes the blood from his split lip. “Cmon, I know you got more in ya than that. You’re massive!” Eddie taunts him before launching at the guy, managing to double him over with a punch to the gut. “You’ll have to do more than that if you want her, big guy. I’ll lay down my fuckin’ life in this bar for that woman.”

The crowd has now turned their attention to where Eddie’s got the brute in a headlock. He gets one more punch in before his opponent breaks out of his grasp, sending his elbow straight into Eddie’s nose. “Oh, ho, ho,” Eddie cackles maniacally as he lifts away from the counter, blood now dripping from his nostrils into his mouth, staining his skin and his shirt. “Look at you, tough guy.” He spits a mouthful of blood onto the bar floor. “Real big of you beatin’ on someone a quarter your size.”

Before anyone else can make a move, the bouncers are rushing up behind them, escorting both men out the front entrance while you follow behind with Steve and Robin. It takes six guys to move the giant, leaving Eddie to comply with the disgruntled manager. You watch as your adversary curses at Eddie before walking into the night, disappearing before anyone could think to call the cops.

“Oh my god, what the fuck?!” Robin is laughing nervously as she looks between you and Eddie, then to Steve with that annoying, know-it-all glint in her eyes.

“Eddie, he could have fuckin’ killed you!” Steve, ever the babysitter, scolds his friend with an elbow to his ribs, causing Eddie to wince in pain.

“Yeah, maybe, but if it meant keeping her safe-,” He cuts himself off as he meets your teary eyes. “Oh, no. Sweets, what’s wrong?”

You shake your head, barely able to look at the bloody boy in front of you. He’s hurt because of you. You were supposed to keep him safe.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie.” You whisper, afraid your voice will betray you for speaking at full volume. “You shouldn’t have done that, I shouldn’t have let you.” The tears are warm on your cheeks when they spill, and as quickly as they do, you have six arms wrapped around you.

—

“Get some rest, we’ll see you guys tomorrow.” You shut the cab door behind you before following Eddie into his trailer. You don’t want to be alone tonight, and Eddie has graciously offered a sleepover at his place.

“How’s your face?” You ask, already on your way to the freezer for an ice pack.

“I’m fine, honey, I promise.” His voice says otherwise, low and scratchy from a night of straining it. “How are you doing, though?”

It’s a loaded question. How are you supposed to feel, watching your best friend risk his life for you? You’re grateful, sure, but the guilt eats at you still. “I’m just so, so sorry Eddie,” You carefully lift your hand to caress his swollen cheek. “You really didn't have to do that.”

“What was I supposed to do? Let him hurt you? I couldn’t live with myself.” He shakes his head, wincing in pain. “I meant what I said. I’d risk my life to keep you safe.”

You shake your head, not accepting his answer. “Why?” It’s meek, barely a whisper as you blot the remaining blood from his lip.

“What do you mean why?” His words are muffled by the tissue.

You huff, getting upset despite yourself. “You’re telling me you’d put yourself in danger if it meant keeping me out of it? What’s the point? Why do that to yourself because I’m too stupid to make the right decisions? What do you gain from that?”

He shakes his head, clearly frustrated. “Do I have to gain something from it? I do it because I love you, y/n. Simple as that.” You gape at him, and he rolls his eyes, the beginning of a smirk twitching on his face. “Do I have to spell it out for you?”

“It would be helpful, yes.” You’re just about begging now, the nervous sweat causing your shirt to stick to you.

“Sweets, I accepted that I would die for you a long fuckin’ time ago. If it meant keeping you happy, I would tie myself to the train tracks. Or, in this case, let some fucker twice my size beat the living shit out of me.”

You can’t accept it, logically. Your brain won’t let you believe any of his claims. “But I don’t-“

“No.” His voice is stern, almost scolding. “No more of that ‘I don’t deserve you’ shit. Okay? Absolutely not. Because you do. You saved my life all those years ago, and I promised myself I’d make sure to protect yours, too. You are my best friend, and the absolute love of my life, so I’m gonna give you everything I’ve got.” He laces his fingers with yours, and you watch as his rings catch the light.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel that way about me, I’ll never ask you for that, it wouldn’t be fair. But I can’t stand by when you’re in trouble, it’s not what I do.”

Your heart is fighting to free itself from your ribcage. It wants to jump from your skin, straight into Eddie’s open palms. Though the ever present coward in you wishes to curl up inside yourself and hide from him, everything else in your body is being pulled towards him, compelled as if by nature.

Before you even notice you’re crying again, Eddie wraps himself around your shaking frame, rubbing soothing patterns on your back as you sob, open mouthed and ugly, into his t-shirt. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m right here.” He coos, and you focus on his breathing, matching the pace to calm the stutter of your cries.

You claw at his jacket, inhaling his scent of cigarettes and pine soap. You need him closer. He tightens his grip on you, and you look up to face him. His own cheeks are wet with tears, his eyes screwed shut trying to stifle the bite of the wracking sobs you know the strength of well. This is the only chance you’re getting, so you move with calculation. Despite the anxious pounding of your heart, and everything in your head telling you that he’s not yours and never could be, you crane your neck to reach Eddie’s split and swollen lips, squeezing your eyes shut as you place your mouth on his, ever so gently.

Before Eddie can react, you’re gone, face inches away from him as his eyes flutter open. “Whoa. Uh, w-what… what are you doing?” He sputters, face now bright red, and you feel your own cheeks blush.

“I’m- I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed… ” You cover your mouth with your hand to hide the shame, feeling the fire in your stomach. You have just ruined years of friendship, and for one stupid kiss! But Eddie’s beaming, and he’s still gripping you close to him. “I've just wanted to do that for so long.” You admit shyly, shifting against his grip, ready to retreat, but he holds you tighter.

“Can you do it again?” His voice is more confident now. You’re not sure you’ve heard him correctly, but when you look at him, it’s undeniable.

You mirror his smile, nodding before leaning into him again. He makes the connection, taking the lead as your body contorts around his, lips locking together as he holds you flush against him. His lips are so soft, and he’s so gentle with you, even though you can tell he’s eager, like maybe he’s also wanted to do this for a while. The thought causes you to smile against his lips, and you feel his own lips stretch against yours as your hands move from his shoulders to his hair.

One of his hands moves from your waist to caress your face, holding your jaw like a precious pearl he’s discovered after years at sea. Your tears fall freely now, ones of overwhelming love for Eddie, ones you never could have hoped to shed, content letting them simmer in the pit of your throat if it meant keeping your best friend. You’re breathless when he lets you go, fighting the urge to chase after his lips. After almost a decade of wondering what Eddie would taste like, what kissing him would feel like, now you get to know. “I have been in love with you since that day on the playground,” He confesses, tightening his arms around your waist to keep you close. “But I’m such a chicken shit, I didn’t wanna ruin anything. You were so sweet to me, I couldn’t risk losing that, losing you.” The words seem to spill from him now, like he’s been craving to tell you. You suppose he has.

You take in the sight of your best friend, battered and bruised for the sake of your honor, like a knight thrown into battle without armor. He’s beautiful, even in black and blue. You bring your hand to his cheek, rubbing small circles on his skin as he leans into your touch. You could stay here forever, you think. “I love you too, Eds. I have for as long as I can remember.” He smiles at you, lip splitting again but he doesn’t even flinch. You return the grin, feeling your cheeks ache from how wide you’ve stretched your mouth. “Thank you for keeping me safe.” You kiss him again, letting yourself taste the blood he’d spilled for you, a silent promise that you’ll make sure he never has to again.

-

taglist @children-of-the-grave :p

[obsessioncollector]

hey, I saw you're a librarian and I was wondering if u had any recs on authors who write about alienation from the self/depersonalisation like plath, lispector, dazai, etc?

Hi!! Sorry for the late reply!! This is such a good questions and those authors are all so excellent but I feel like i always blank when it comes to thinking of books that fit specific prompts. Which is part of why I try to tag quotes on here based on theme. But I just went through my goodreads and some books that I love that I think at least partially deal w that idea are:

MALINA BY INGEBORG BACHMANN song of the summer...

The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge by Rainer Maria Rilke

Ohh btw as far as Japanese lit I'm familiar with goes, dazai is def the goat of alienation and self isolation but shout-out to Akutagawa as well! I feel like he's a little under-read in the Anglosphere compared to his stature in Japan and the big followings some other 20th century Japanese writers have (the Akutagawa prize is one of the big Japanese literary honors.) Maybe because he was mostly a short story writer. But the Rashomon and Other Stories collection published by Penguin Classics is so good, he tackles a lot of different genres and styles but a couple of the stories deal w the alienated intellectual types that also populate Dazai's work

Maybe a bit of a left field recommendation because it directly confronts colonialism in a way that the authors you mentioned generally don't but any excuse to mention Tayeb Salih's Season of Migration to the North... Kendall roy voice "I'm the real you"

Dennis Cooper in some of his work esp. some of the stories in Closer and also I Wished as a whole. Content warning everything

Two Girls, Fat and Thin by Mary Gaitskill has more of the Season of Migration to the North "self recognition through the other" (horrifying) dynamic going on

The Rainbow and Women in Love by D.H. Lawrence for the heteropessimist version of alienation from the self

I know you mentioned Dazai but I do specifically want to recommend The Setting Sun because it's not as famous as No Longer Human but sooooooo good

Another book that is vaguely thematically similar to Season of Migration to the North in that it deals with questions of identity and authenticity in a postcolonial and political context is Enter, Ghost by Isabella Hammad. The most recent book on this list (just came out in 2023) and masterful imo

Also Thomas Mann is a master of this tbh. Death in Venice and Other Stories is the kind of book you feel ashamed to relate to. At least I do...

[crepesuzette2023]

hello, I was wondering if you have any fics you like where Paul is the one pining?

Thank you so much for this question, and sorry to have taken so long to reply. I hope you still find these useful!

The lovely thing about J/P fic is that both John and Paul excel at pining. Scholarly tomes should be filled with arguments about who does it better. (Is Mutual Pining really the ultimate, or can something be said about the solo work of either man surpassing their 'collaboration'?)

As per your ask, it's Paul turn in these recs. I've decided to include fics in which they are in a relationship, of sorts, but where there's an element of Paul feeling that John is out of reach, or that Paul doesn't have enough of John — there's a distance to be bridged (but how?).

Early Days: Before the Fete

I've Just Seen a Face (sleepprettydarling): Five times Paul sees John before the Woolton Fete, one time he doesn't. G-rated, but the longing is *everywhere*.

Early Days

Two of us (burning matches) (@scurator). John corrupts/awakens Paul.

Above us only sky (candle_beck). "Paul is tired of being so good."

The first year (candle_beck). "They didn't get along, Stuart and Paul."

Lifting Latches/Sending Postcards (thinkpink20). Swapping clothes and becoming lovers...slowly. You can feel Paul's heartbeat when you read this.

On Menlove Avenue (thinkpink20). One of my favorite summaries ever: "It's a dark, dark night in Woolton."

Hamburg Era (roughly)

Mistletoe (thinkpink20). Paul observes John at Christmas, and finally takes action.

Like Love, the Archers are Blind (@dailyhowl). "He can’t ever be truly mad at him. Because his frustration melts like sugar on his tongue when he thinks about them sat across from each with their guitars and a notebook between them. Thinks about riding on the bus together with greasy packets of chips, stalking through record stores and strolling by the docks. How familiar and comfortable it feels to be together. What they have is too golden, too warm to ever stray from. And now he’s drowning in it." Come onnnn

Sinful (thinkpink20). "He tells himself it's just the grime around him, dirtying up his mind."

Beginning Fame

the touch of the velvet hand (downtothelastdrop). “Well then,” Paul countered, “you’ve not felt what I can do.”

I'm Telling You (aceonthebass). Paul pitches a 'soft' love song to John.

wouldn't it be nice? (@pauls1967moustache). John marries Cyn. What about John&Paul?

Geodesic Dome Era

open heart (@revollver). Vampire AU. Paul needs John—in more than one way.

Way up Top (@boshemians). The Beatles in Greece. "Underwater Paul snakes his arm around John’s wrist and presses their chests together, struggling for something."

1968

Days Like This (@eveepe). "His mouth was strangely dry, and he could feel his heartbeat pulsing in the scar on his lip."

Bad luck to talk (7intheevening). Paul is yearning for what he and John used to have—without being quite aware of his feelings. (Subconscious pining?)

Lost (@ohjohnnysblog). Paul needs a reminder of his and John's happier past. He goes to see Astrid...

Wings Era

Red Lights, Green Lights, Strawberry Wine (@savageandwise). Paul is with Linda and Denny, but waiting for John to call him back again...(Linda POV).

Later Days

Nude (@ohjohnnysblog). Paul buys nude pictures in a gallery and thinks of John.

Modern Love (caesdoublesteps). For a lighter touch: Paul negotiates with Yoko to give him Self Portrait, the movie about John's semi-erection. Yoko has a counter-offer.

AU

Sleeping Sand, Morning Moon (@dailyhowl). Playwright Paul grieves a dear friend and the end of a relationship. He escapes to a Scottish village and falls in love with resident eccentric John—but his heart is not ready. (It will be.)

[lovelycatdraws]

Alex Irvine writer of Robots in Disguise season 1 episode 20 “The Trouble with Fixit”….

Why did he do that? Why did he ??

[cosmoseinfeld]

I am rewatching S10 atm and this moment will always hit me (i mean, misses the boat is one of my favourites anyway).

Back when I was way more invested in sunny and spent many hours meta analysing the show & the gang - well, mainly dennis, lbr - I thought a lot about self-awareness and tried figuring out where each member of the gang stands on that scale.

Now, we know that dennis has "big feeling" and "feels things very deeply" (quote unquote glennjamin) but I am always taken aback a bit by this moment because he is so self-aware here that he can distinguish between his rage/anger and irritation.

Irritation seems to be the general theme for dennis in s10 anyway (most prominently in family fight).

I probably had more thoughts on this at some point in my life but I would need to consult my little dennis meta notebook about that. Just wanted to put my thoughts about this moment somewhere.

[inkinmyheartandonthepage]

Spells Home

Prompt 11 of Flufftober is Spells & Ingredients. I hope you enjoy my take and you can read it here on Ao3.

“What’s next, Buck?” Christopher Diaz asked eagerly where he was pressed up against Buck’s side.

Eddie watched with fondness as Buck adjusted his grip around Christopher’s waist, keeping him steady on the stool he was standing on. The move was so natural, one that Eddie had witnessed in the Diaz home many, many times since Buck had come into their lives. But here in the Grant-Nash home, it made something in Eddie stomach flutter, warmth filling his cheeks.

“Maddie?” Buck asked, looking to his sister.

Maddie ran a finger across the page of the well-worn notebook she had that sat open on the kitchen island. “Okay. It says to stir clockwise until it changes colour.”

Buck placed a wooden spoon into the pot and started stirring as he was instructed too.  

“What colour is going to turn?” Harry asked eagerly, standing on his tip-toes.

“It should turn to burgundy,” Maddie said with a smile.

Harry, Christopher, Denny and May all leaned in closer to the pot on the stove top.

They were gathered at the Grant-Nash home for no other reason than to spend time with one another. Life had been relatively calm for a few months now and the group that had become had a family over the years were taking advantage of that. Each first responder new how life could be upheaved in an instant and none were taking it for granted.

It had been the perfect day. The weather was warm and pleasant, and they had all eaten the wonderful lunch that Bobby had cooked for them outside in the sunshine. There had been no rush, everyone lounging around and enjoying the company of one another.

The kids had drifted off at some point, to go and play. Buck and Maddie had gone inside to get a drink and it was at some point that Eddie realised they hadn’t come back. He had turned in his seat, eyes searching through the open doors for the Buckley siblings. His heart had stuttered in his chest when he found Maddie, Buck, Christopher, Denny, Harry, and May crowded around the stove top.

“They’re doing magic,” Eddie said softly, his heart fluttering at the sight.

The table grew quiet, and Eddie heard everyone shifting in their seats to get a better look.

It had come as shock to the team when Maddie and Buck had quietly shared with them one quiet night (not an un-similar gathering to the one they had now) a couple of years after their first meeting them that they were witches. Eddie would have thought it a prank had it not been for the way Maddie and Buck had made flower petals they had plucked from Athena’s garden dance between their open palms.

It had explained a few odd things that they had noticed about the Buckley siblings but had kindly ignored.

It had been Athena who had stepped forward first that night, taking one of their hands each in her own and giving them a tight squeeze.

“Thank you, for sharing this with us,” Athena had said, her voice thick with emotions.

Relief had gone through the two siblings as they both had fallen into the hug that Athena pulled them into. The rest, of course, had quickly followed. Since that night, the team had witnessed Buck and Maddie do small magic, but they still mostly kept it to themselves. Nobody ever pushed them to share their gifts with them, just let them share things at their own pace.

Except for today. Today they stood in the Grant-Nash kitchen, creating a potion from scratch with the kids crowded around them, seemingly at ease.  

“It’s working!” Chris cried out in delight.

“Whoa!” Harry and Denny breathed in unison.

“Now what?” May asked.

“Now,” Maddie said, reaching for a small dish that was sitting on the kitchen island. “We put in three pinches of holly that was harvested and ground under the new moon.” Carefully she dropped three pinches of ground holly into the pot. “Buck, five more stirs.”

Buck stirred five more times before removing the wooden spoon from the pot.

“It’s changing again!” Denny cried out. “Whoa! It’s turning blue!”

“Wait for it,” Buck said, his own eagerness shining through his voice.

Eddie couldn’t help but grin when all the kid exclaimed loudly, talking over one another as they all tried to get a better look.

“Okay, careful,” Buck said. “Everyone careful. Maddie, have you got the watering can?”

Maddie placed a watering can on the kitchen island. “Ready.”

Buck had lifted the pot from the stove and Eddie watched as his biceps flexed as he lifted it and carefully poured the now clear water into the watering can. When it was filled, Buck replaced the pot back on the stove and lifted the watering can.

“Alright, everyone outside. Come on.”

The kids raced outside, Maddie and Buck following at a slower pace, smiles on their faces.

Eddie shifted in his chair as he followed the Buckley siblings out of the house and into the garden. He saw everyone else doing the same, sitting higher in their chairs as they watched. He knew he wasn’t the only one who desperately wanted to join the kids, to see what Maddie and Buck had created with their magic. But he didn’t want to startle them and so he stayed seated.

Buck started watering Athena’s plants, drops raining down and soaking into the earth.

“Oh my,” Athena gasped, leaning forward eagerly.

Delight and awe rushed through Eddie as he watched.

The flowers that Athena had planted started to bloom. The grew sharper in colour, the petals growing thicker and bolder until they were unfurling.

“Oh my god,” Karen gasped.

As the petals of the flowers unfurled, Eddie could only gape as stunning butterflies of all colours flew from the centre, fluttering about the garden.

“They’re beautiful,” Hen breathed.

Eddie agreed.

The kids laughed with delight as swarms of butterflies fluttered in the sunshine, lazily drifting around the flowers and the kids. They landed on their heads and arms, their wings fluttering, and it looked like they were dispelling glitter that faded like mist in the morning.

But Eddie wasn’t focused on that. He was focused on Buck whose smile was so bright and free. He was crouched beside Christopher, their smiles identical as a butterfly landed on the edge of Chris’s glasses. Buck’s cheeks were flushed pink, his whole body relaxed, and Eddie had never seen him look more beautiful than he did in that moment.

“Dad! Dad come look!” Chris cried out.

Eddie pushed back his chair and stood, crossing to Chris in eager strides. He crouched down beside Buck and Christopher, grinning at them both. A butterfly floated between them, wings flapping lazily. He and Christopher tracked the movement, watching as it fluttered between them, the fading glitter only adding to the magic of what was happening.

Eddie had never been a believer in the supernatural, but he had always believed in Buck.

“They’re beautiful,” Eddie said, catching Buck’s eye.

Buck flushed pink, ducking his head. “It’s, uh, the first spell Maddie ever showed me.”

“This is amazing,” Athena said.

Eddie dragged his gaze from Buck to see that Hen, Chimney, Bobby, Athena, Hen, and Karen had joined them in the garden. Chimney had his arm wrapped around Maddie’s shoulder, tucking her into his side and looking at her like she was made of the same magic that the butterflies were. 

“You’re both amazing,” Athena said gently but firmly, looking between both the siblings.

Maddie leaned more into Chimney’s side, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

When Eddie looked to Buck, he saw his best friends’ cheeks were flushed, his own eyes sparkling. Buck looked up sharply when a hand landed on his shoulder, leaning back as he looked up at Bobby who was smiling down at Buck like a proud father.

“You’re always welcome to use our kitchen,” Bobby said. “For whatever potions you need to create or if you just want to practice. Our home is always open for you.”

“To both of you,” Athena added.

Buck stood from his crouch beside Chris, wrapping Bobby in a tight hug. “Thank you.”

Surrounded by the butterflies and their family, Eddie was so overwhelming glad that he had brought Chris to L.A and that they had found their way to Buck. Their lives were better with the man in them. It felt like magic and maybe it had been. But that didn’t matter. They had Buck and that was all the magic they needed.

[original-bookshelf]

Alright, I think I made y'all too sad.

Have some fluff:

Susan has caught and kept exactly three frogs as pets over the last four years

Allan sings in the shower (does he have a good singing voice? debatable, but he enjoys it)

Susan's first gender envy fixation was on Disney's Robin Hood. Yes, the fox was what made the egg start to crack

Allan puts little sticky notes in Callisto's lunches with cute messages and jokes

Allan and Pidge did the Barbenheimer cinema event together

Susan listens to a lot of punk music and has been putting together a battle jacket

When Allan first started working at Denny's he was around 5'2" and was only just slightly shorter than the line cook. Folks at Denny's really got to watch him grow up.

Allan has a notebook with each of his friends' birthdays, food preferences, and favorite things written in it

@localpigeon22 , @moonvalley94 , @aurorialwolf , @twice-damned-birdie

[lenoraah]

𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴

pairing - dennis hauger x reader

summary - reader and Dennis decides that even though they’re not together, they can still surprise each other on Valentine’s Day + named best friend action

a/n - this man doesn’t get enough love

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“I am not letting you mope around on Valentine’s Day again, you understand-”

Olive pauses as she walks into the couple’s apartment. She thought that while Dennis was gone that Y/n would be moping around wearing one of his sweatshirts and scowling while eating a tub of ice cream.

“What is going on?” Olive is left with a dumbfounded look on her face as she sits down on the couch.

Y/n has a giant grin on her face as she grabs two cans of sparking juice out of the fridge while humming.

Olive holds in a breath as she looks around the living room. There is vase of roses on the counter and coffee table. The heart vintage heart shape snow globe that she had gotten the couple is sitting on the window sill next to the strawberry candle.

Y/n is wearing beige linen pants and a baby pink sweater with a heart on the middle. The expression on her face makes Olive open her mouth with no sound coming out.

“What?” Y/n asks as she reaches for the TV remote.

“Why are you so happy?” Olive replies as she squints Serendipity being turned on instead of 10 Things I Hate About You or The Notebook.

“Because it’s Valentine’s Day and I will not let it be ruined again just me and Dennis aren’t together.”

Oh wow.

“You know what, good for you.” Olive pats Y/n on the back before opening her drink.

“I know,” Y/n smiles as she leans against her best friend’s side with a sigh.

The two get the middle of the movie before Y/n’s phone starts ringing. The sound makes both of them scowl as Olive pauses the movie and Y/n answers.

“Hello?”

“Hi baby, where are you?”

The sound of Dennis’s voice makes Y/n smile like an idiot. She twirls a piece of hair around her finger and Olive rolls her eyes.

“Home, with Olive, watching a movie.” Y/n leans the couch as she watches her best friend eat popcorn whiling listening to their conversation.

“Okay, I left something for you in my nightstand drawer. I got it for you a couple-” Dennis gets cut off by someone speaking in Italian. “I got to go, love you. I’ll call you soon,”

“I love you too,”

Y/n looks at Olive with her mouth open just a little before the brunette shoos the y/h/c girl out of the living room and into the couple’s bedroom. Y/n waste no time running into her bedroom.

Olive unpauses the movie and keeps sipping her drink before hearing an excited shriek.

“What? What is it?” The brunette spins her head around as Y/n runs back into living room.

Y/n holds a stuffed bunny in her hands with a pout on her face. Olive squints to see the petite gold watch around the pink bunny’s arm.

“Olive, look.” Y/n shoves the bunny in Olive’s face and Olive nods.

“Yes, very romantic, now please stop reminding me that I’m single and that you and Dennis have one of the most cheesiest relationships I know of.” Olive teases as Y/n unclamps the watch and clasps it around her wrist.

“I know, I know, ugh he’s too sweet.” Y/n says as she notices the engraving on the inside of the watch. It’s her initials and his together. Oh, the cheesiness and sweetness at the same time.

“You did something for him right?” Olive ask as she watches Y/n admire the watch with the bunny cuddled against her chest.

“Um, duh.”

————————————————————————

“Delivery for- Dennis Hauger.”

“Uh, thank you.”

The delivery man raises an eyebrow as he hands the confused Norwegian a bouquet of white roses with a card attached.

“Long distance?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Dennis smiles as he thinks about Y/n.

He thanks the delivery man before closing the door and squinting at the roses.

What was happening.

Dennis leans against the counter as he gently lays the flowers in the marble countertop. He carefully takes out the card without untying the flowers.

He can’t keep but smiling like an idiot as he reads the letter.

Dennis sighs as he gently touches the petals of the roses.

Here he was, thousands of miles away from his girlfriend. Unable to be with her and hug her.

But you know what, they’re making it work and that was that. That was they needed. A little sprinkle of affection and love.

And they both know that they were going to have so many moments together. So many Valentine’s Day to spent together and so many holidays.

They both knew that.

Dennis smiles faintly as he reaches for his phone, just can’t wait to hear Y/n’s voice.

[shadowland]

Dennis Hopper's collection of owned and gifted books (a few are listed under the cut)

Islands in the Stream (Charles Scribner's Sons, 1970)

Magic (Delacorte Press, 1976)

Sneaky People (Simon and Schuster, 1975)

Strange Peaches (Harper's Magazine Press, 1972)

I Didn't Know I Would Live So Long (Charles Scribner's Sons, 1973)

Baby Breakdown (The Bobbs-Merrill Company, Inc., 1970)

37 (Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1970)

Presences: A Text for Marisol (Charles Scribner's Sons, 1970)

Little Prayers for Little Lips, The Book of Tao, The Bhagavadgita or The Song Divine, and Gems and Their Occult Power.

Lolita (G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1955)

The Dramas of Kansas (John F. Higgins, 1915)

Joy of Cooking (The Bobbs-Merrill Company, 1974) 

The Neurotic: His Inner and Outer Worlds (First edition, Citadel Press, 1954)

Out of My Mind: An Autobiography (Harry N. Abrams, Inc., 1997)

The Savage Mind (University of Chicago Press, 1966)

Alive: The Story of the Andes Survivors (J.B. Lippincott Company, 1974)

The Documents of 20th Century Art: Dialogues with Marcel Duchamp (Viking Press, 1971)

The Portable Dorothy Parker, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, I Ching, and How to Make Love to a Man.

John Steinbeck's East of Eden (Bantam, 1962)

James Dean: The Mutant King (Straight Arrow Books, 1974) by David Dalton

The Moviegoer (The Noonday Press, 1971)

 Erections, Ejaculations, Exhibitions and General Tales of Ordinary Madness (City Light Books, 1974)

Narcotics Nature's Dangerous Gifts (A Delta Book, 1973)

The Egyptian Book of the Dead (Dover Publications, 1967)

Tibetan Yoga and Secret Doctrines (Oxford University Press, 1969)

Junky (Penguin Books, 1977) by William S. Burroughs

Weed: Adventures of a Dope Smuggler (Harper & Row, 1974)

Alcoholics Anonymous (Alcoholics Anonymous World Services, 1976)

Skrebneski Portraits - A Matter of Record, Sketchbooks of Paolo Soleri, and High Tide.

Raw Notes (The Press of the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design, 2005)

Le Corbusier (Heidi Weber, 1965)

Henry Moore in America (Praeger Publishers, 1973)

Claes Oldenburg (MIT Press, 2012)

Notebooks 1959 1971 (MIT Press, 1972)

A Day in the Country (Los Angeles County Museum of Art, 1985)

Album Celine (Gallimard, 1977)

A Selection of Fifity Works From the Collection of Robert C. Scull (Sotheby Parke Bernet, Inc. 1973)

Collage A Complete Guide for Artists (Watsun-Guptill Publications, 1970)

The Fifties Aspects of Painting in New York (Smithsonian Institution Press, 1980)

A Bottle of Notes and Some Voyages (Rizzoli International Publications, 1988)

All Color Book of Art Nouveau (Octopus Books, 1974)

A Colorslide Tour of The Louvre Paris (Panorama, 1960)

Dear Dead Days (G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1959)

Woman (Aidan Ellis Publishing Limited, 1972)

The Arts and Man ( UNESCO, 1969)

Murals From the Han to the Tang (Foreign Languages Press, 1974)

A (Grove Press Inc., 1968)

Andy Warhol's Index Book (Random House, 1967)

Voices (A Big Table Book, 1969)

Another Country (A Dell Book, circa 1960s)

On The Road (Signet, circa 1980s) 

[uglydollyboy]

More thoughts

Don't bother reading my love and devotion for a Serial Killer (But if you want to read it, go ahead)

Oh, You decided to read it¿ Alright then¡ enjoy my ridiculousness

I'm a fragile lover boy with a weak heart, but I never thought that my heart would be so safe in his big, strong and firm hands.

Anyway, I want you to keep my heart.

It's so weird how everything changed when I met you, first, you were just another serial killer and that's it but then I thought about it more and I discovered that you are not another case I know, you are my everything and what brings joy to my life.

I'm an awkward and miserable boy, I find everything boring, but loving you is not boring at all.

I find everything beautiful now, sleeping is amazing because I get the chance to dream with you, waking up is amazing because I see your pictures on my bed and in my phone. Everything, absolutely everything is beautiful

I like going to a park near my house because there is this house full of flowers of every color.

I think that cutting flowers is cruel, so I just look at them and I do them with paper. But I dream one day, buy a bouquet of fake flowers but all of them gorgeous ones and give them to you.

You are dead, you don't even have a grave but if you had one, the things I would do...

I would go to see you with my ukulele and I would play your favorite songs on it, I would water your flowers every day and I would clean your grave.

If you were alive, I would've done everything just to visit you in jail or atleast send you a letter. I have 2 notebooks, one is full of love letters for you and the other one is being filled with pictures and decoration of you

I just want to sit next to you, talk, laugh, watch movies and listen to music. I would show you my paintings of you and I would let you keep them.

I have your book, your autobiography but I still want to have the book on my hands, not my phone. I would take you everywhere, making you see places that you never saw

I cry because of you beautiful you are, I don't use "was/were" because in my heart, you are still alive.

I talk so much about you that I start to think that people are getting bored of me, maybe that's true. But I have no one else to talk to.

I've created slow romantic songs just for you, my keyboard has a name, his name is Dennis and when I play it, it sounds as magical as your voice.

I would take you to restaurants and I would take you to this town that has a beach, I want to sit next to you and look at the ocean while you tell me your stories

Talking about food, I would try and cook your favorite food, I would take pictures with you and show them to everyone "Look¡ I'm with the most gorgeous and unique man ever¡"

I'm ugly, I'm an ugly boy and I know that you will never feel the same for me because of various reasons. But I'm a loyal and devoted lover boy.

I'm so unlucky that I am not like her, I don't have unreleased things from him, and I think I'll never get them.

But do I really want a simple picture¿ Why do I want a picture that anyone can get if shared when I can get the chance to see you and talk to you¡

I have a lot of pictures of you in my room, I talk to them everyday thinking that you can actually hear me

In my dreams, you talk to me, melting me with your voice. This last part will sound very stupid. Sooooo Prepare-

Dennis... Dennis Andrew Nilsen...

If by any chance you can hear me or something similar. I just want to say that I love you. And be for sure that I'll take those letters I wrote to you to the grave. I'll take them with me so that if I get to see you again, you can read them.

I know you are dead, and I miss you like crazy. But I hope that you found peace and a place where you feel that you actually belong there. I hope that you found Bleep and now you are living the life that you always deserved.

I love you.

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.

Always yours and deeply in love

-Your ugly dolly boy