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hersheykise · 3 years

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Jonathan Joestar’s Spotify Playlist

Hello and welcome to the beginning of a series (or projected to be ahaha) that has to do with Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure characters and their own personalized playlists! I’ll be listing the track list and then will be going more in depth as to why I chose these particular songs for Jonathan’s playlist. The top part will not have spoilers, but be aware that the second part will so read at your own will! For the first playlist, we have none other than Jonathan Joestar, the original Jojo!

💿✨Track list✨💿

01. Jojo (Sono Chi no Sadame), Hiroaki Tommy Tominaga

02. BREATHE, AB6IX

03. breathin, Ariana Grande

04. We Belong, Ong Seong Wu

05. My Heart Will Go On, Céline Dion

06. Silence, Marshmello ft. Khalid

07. Dollhouse, Melanie Martinez

08. London Boy, Taylor Swift

09. Needed Me, Rihanna

10. Line Without a Hook, Ricky Montgomery

11. Glorious, Macklemore ft. Skylar Grey

12. Fighter, Christina Aguilera

13. Classic, MKTO

14. Win, CIX

15. Blue Hour, TOMORROW X TOGETHER

In Depth (spoiler free)

🔹 Jojo (Sono Chi no Sadame), Hiroaki Tommy Tominaga

Sono Chi no Sadame is the first opening of Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure and is truly what sets up the stage for the rest of the series. Jonathan Joestar, being the first Jojo, begins the Jojo legacy in Phantom Blood. The song lyrics heavily foreshadow the future of the Jojo series and describes Jonathan as someone who has honor and always does what is right. Sono Chi no Sadame is a spectacular opening act to the unique concept of Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure. *side note* Muscially speaking wow this song is incredibly good the crescendoes and frequent tempo changes as well as the instrumentals amaze me- this is easily my favorite Jojo opening.

🔹BREATHE, AB6IX

Hamon (also known as Ripple or Sendo) is a technique that heavily focuses on controlled breathing. Jonathan learned and mastered Hamon in a very short amount of time. BREATHE also has a very light feeling to it, making the song easy to listen to which connects to Jojo as he is a lighthearted and easy going guy.

🔹breathin, Ariana Grande

Likewise as BREATHE by AB6IX, breathin correlates to the Hamon technique that Jonathan used to fight. Adding onto that, Jonathan lived in a grand mansion and was very well off financially. This song has an elegant sound to it. Despite the wealth that he had, Jojo did not have the easiest childhood. Ever since Dio Brando began to live with him, Jonathan saw many mishaps occur with his relationships, reputation, and self esteem. But, Jonathan Joestar never gave up on his morals and values, and he always kept “breathin and breathin and breathin” no matter what, making sure he would always do the right thing.

🔹Silence, Marshmello ft. Khalid

Silence explains and describes Jonathan’s teenage years very well along with his relationship with Dio. Dio coming to live with Jonathan messed him up as Jonathan felt inferior to Dio who was taking the spotlight by being an amazing athlete and intelligent student. This prompted lots of praise from Jonathan’s father and comparing him to Dio constantly, which made Jonathan feel like he wasn’t worth as much. “I found peace in your violence” is a very meaningful line that contributes to Jonathan’s and Dio’s relationship because of the fact that Dio was... an extremely violent person ever since he was a kid and has done crazy evil things to Jonathan, yet Jonathan didn’t really hate Dio because of Jojo’s noble personality- Dio was Jonathan’s “brother,” therefore Jonathan couldn’t hate him. Jojo felt like he had to be silent over Dio’s actions because he didn’t want to spoil the love that his father gave to Dio, again proving how big of a heart Jonathan had.

🔹Dollhouse, Melanie Martinez

Dollhouse is a rather dark song, but is perfect to show off the darker side of Jonathan’s character. As we know, Jonathan is a young man who presents himself as well... perfect. He’s smart, incredibly kind and noble, rich, popular, and athletic. After Dio appeared and started to really turn things around for Jonathan, he had to continue to present the same image of himself even though his home life was becoming a wreck. His own father constantly scolded him and loved Dio to a great extent. “Pose with your brother won’t you be a good sister?” Jonathan knew that Dio’s actions were evil and he had ill intent at such a young age but Jojo had to go along with the act that Dio put on, faking the close brotherly relationship between them.

🔹London Boy, Taylor Swift

Sometimes I forget that Jonathan Joestar is in fact British. London Boy is a song for Jonathan not just because he lives in/by London, but also because the song describes a man who is just so sweet and has a beautiful laugh. The overall song is just so positive and loving towards this English boy. Every time I listen to this song I now think of Jonathan, and a smile always plasters on my face. Taylor Swift also has a lyric talking about watching rugby which reminded me of the iconic Jonathan and Dio rugby scene early in the story. Jonathan is such a respectful gentleman whom everyone just can’t help but fall in love with his lovely English charm.

🔷Line Without a Hook, Ricky Montgomery

After upon listening to this song, I felt like it really gave off Jonathan vibes because of the light but a tinge of melancholy sound to it. Thing song is quite reflective of Jonathan and Erina with the lyrics “I broke all my bones that day I found you crying at the lake” because it reminded me of when Jonathan first met Erina, who was being bullied by a couple of boys but Jonathan risked getting beaten up to stop the bullies from harming Erina. Later, Jonathan was laying on a hill with his dog Danny, feeling quite down because of none other than Dio, but Erina came and dropped off some grapes and his handkerchief and that was what really started off their relationship. The iconic line “she’s a, she’s a lady, and I am just a line without a hook” explains that Erina was Jonathan’s sole happiness in his life.

🔹Fighter, Christina Aguilera

Honestly, Dio really sucked (I still love him *sigh*). He wanted to completely destroy Jonathan’s life and make it absolutely miserable... for what? Well, despite the horrific actions that Dio performed to ruin Jonathan’s reputation and will, that ultimately backfired as Jonathan rose stronger than ever. Of course Jonathan was mad at Dio for his unspeakable actions, but because of him, he was able to have a certain drive where he gained immense strength in a short amount of time. William Zeppeli describes Jonathan as a Hamon prodigy because of how quickly Jojo was able to master it. Jojo was a natural, but again, he had that determination to defeat Dio once and for all. Despite the hardships Jonathan went through as a result of Dio’s decisions, Jonathan did not resent him in the end- Jojo became an extremely powerful individual because of his past.

🔹Classic, MKTO

In order to create a playlist for our favorite gentleman, it’s only necessary that we add a classic gentlemanly song to it! There’s not much of a deep gloomy reason why this song correlates with Jonathan, in fact it’s the complete opposite. Classic is a song that talks about being a classy and polite man, and to put it simply, Jonathan is exactly that.

🔹Win, CIX

From the God of High School soundtrack, Win is a song about fighting and training together as a team. This upbeat song greatly reminds me of the mini team of Jonathan Joestar, Speedwagon, and William Zeppeli all fighting against Dio and his minions together. Jonathan Joestar was not able to fight Dio without a hamon teacher, William, and an incredibly loyal friend, Speedwagon. This trio had great camaraderie and were overall an incredibly adorable and high morale team.

🔹Blue Hour, TXT

Ok so does this song really have a deep meaning or correlation to Jonathan Joestar? Nahhh not really, I just added it as a bit of a bonus. Blue Hour has an almost fairytale like vibe to it and I just thought it would be something that resonated with Jonathan, especially when he was a child. So, enjoy this little serotonin bonus boost!

⚠️Part 1 Spoilers⚠️

🔹We Belong, Ong Seong Wu

Jonathan’s and Erina’s relationship was very short... but sweet. We Belong is an emotional love song explaining how this one guy meets someone who is their entire world, like when Jonathan met Erina. Through Jojo’s darkest times when he felt like he lost everything, Erina was by his side no matter what. Even though their marriage was abruptly ended with the death of Jonathan, it doesn’t disregard the fact that Erina completely loved Jonathan and supported the Joestar family for the future generations to come. Jonathan and Erina truly belonged together.

🔹My Heart Will Go On, Céline Dion

My apologies, I’m absolutely in love with Jonathan’s and Erina’s relationship. My Heart Will Go On automatically reminds me of the last moments of Jonathan. Since the song was a part of the Titanic soundtrack where there’s a romance story and people die on a sinking ship, it really correlates to Erina and Jonathan going on their honeymoon but Jonathan ending up dead on the ship. Everytime I think of either the song or Jonathan’s and Erina’s last moments together, my heart feels heavy. Both the song and the scene are extremely high in emotions and both suit each other quite well.

🔹Needed Me, Rihanna

Dio killed Jonathan so that he could merge with Jojo’s body, and ultimately use it for evil and for power. “Never told you, you could have it,” symbolizes that Dio forcibly took everything Jonathan had, again including his own body. Although Jonathan would probably never say the lyrics of this song to Dio because he’s so noble, externally everyone knows that without Jonathan, Dio would have been absolutely nothing in Part 3.

🔹Glorious, Macklemore ft. Skylar Grey

The song Glorious questions oneself’s purpose in life, the answer being ‘give back to the people.’ Jonathan has proven that he has countlessly sacrificed himself for others, as was seen when he died on the ship and told Erina to take care of the orphaned baby and to “live a happy life.” Jonathan struggled greatly in his short life, but he always had the passion of helping others since he was born to do so.

🌟Conclusion🌟

Thank you for reading through my first ever blog on Tumblr! I hope you enjoyed the playlist and descriptions! Hopefully this playlist blog series will continue with majority of the main Jojo characters- that’s the plan. Have a good day and/or night💓!

#jonathan joestar #anime #jojo joestar #dio brando #playlists #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo part 1 #jjba #jjba jonathan

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purplepalmdelight · 4 years

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why life is still okay (rambling fic rec pt. 1)

firstly: shout out to @trulyalpha for apparently owning my entire bookmarks page on ao3 (bc i only realised all my favourite fics were written by the same person,,, yesterday. bc im really smart like that) anyway breakdown of why she’s a stoncy saving grace thanks!!!

you ease my mind, you make everything feel fine.

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/13842039)

yes this fic is from 2018. yes i read it every other week. it’s good for the SOUL. jonathan getting taken care of is always just such a good and sweet concept (maybe it’s my intense, undying love of him, but he deserves to be taken care okay) and. okay i’ll admit, sometimes i forget how fucking FUNNY this fic is, but it’s genuinely hilarious, okay? you gotta trust me on this. it makes me cackle at inappropriate times absurdly often. ("Hi." "Hi." "I want you, you fuck." is a top line. i laugh so hard every TIME.) all three of them are so incredibly in character, and somehow this NAILS the fact that they’re all massive disasters pretending to be confident. and i’m not someone that reads ~smut~ often (though it’s more mentioned than described, very non-explicit) but this didn’t make me even the least bit uncomfortable. it felt very natural and in character and made me laugh as much as the rest of the story. all in all, i always come away a little more in love with the characters, and that’s a really precious feeling.

you could be the one to make me feel something

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/14269476/chapters/32912745)

i take back everything i’ve ever claimed. this IS the funniest piece of writing i’ve ever read, and it WILL remain so, probably until the day i die. i honestly... barely have words. my expectations were high when i started it, but in retrospect, they were LEAGUES below what i got. the characterisation, the progression, the dialogue, the story; from the overarching aspects to the tiny details, it’s impeccable. i genuinely read this twice in one day, and then again the next. every single part of it is so good, but in terms of FAVOURITES... the christmas section. hilarious. down to its bones, well crafted and heart felt. it hits me right in the chest every time. the story, from the beginning, has me just as in love with nancy and steve as jonathan is, and as everything grows more intense, so does my investment. it pulls me in and doesn’t let me go until it’s good and ready to see me leave. again, the sexy aspects are so in character and natural that it’s uncomfortable or weird to read and instead just leave me grinning like an idiot. also ( “It did frustrate me, in more ways than one. It’s also a weird plan, like … did you expect me to be so overwhelmed by the power of a boner that I’d just admit my feelings?” is SUCH a funny line, i think about it literally every day. literally. every. day.) the characters are afraid to be messy, to make mistakes, and they all feel so ALIVE that when i leave the story, i feel like i’m leaving a friend. it’s honestly beautiful and honestly breathtaking. this story is better than a lot of published books, honestly, and i’m so grateful for it. so thank you.

i crash my car ‘cause i wanna get carried away!

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/17131202)

...you really wanted to make me cry, huh? i cried out of grief, yeah, out of the depth of nancy’s guilt and the pure rawness of her mourning, but i also cried out of catharsis as she came to terms, and out of laughter a few times. the bit about total eclipse of the heart as a motif was... that was so well done. i hate drawing comparisons, so please understand that this is criticism of a concept and not a particular story, but in so many stories then nancy’s grief feels... trivialised? that’s not quite the right word. romanticised, maybe. as someone who has lost a friend in the past, it’s just... it doesn’t feel realistic? and that’s okay, because it’s hard to nail something you haven’t experienced, and i wouldn’t wish the experience on anyone. it’s just that stories like this, where i can really resonate with nancy and follow the journey of her recovery WITH her are so rare. this story is a gem, it really is. i don’t love it for all the same reasons as the others, but i love it fiercely all the same.

there’s nothing magic going on, and then along came you

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/14994137)

sure, you could be the one is the funniest fic i’ll probably ever read, but nothing magic is such a close second. it’s laugh-out-loud, get-tears-in-your-eyes, fall-out-of-your-chair, and it’s also so goddamn SWEET i can hardly stand it. of the several fics i generally group together in my head (nothing magic, you could be the one + its sequels (might have to make an individual post about this series), laugh until we think we’ll die, and got nothing for you; all very similar, yet incredibly unique) nothing magic is the shortest, but that doesn’t mean it compromises on quality, oh no. it just means i can read it quicker, and therefore more often! when it’s late and i’m tired and i need a laugh to calm down before i sleep, i generally go search this fic up. remember when i mentioned the whole “being just as in love with nancy and steve as jonathan is” thing? it’s like that except... almost funnier. in you could be the one, it’s just that the story naturally tugs you into adoring these two messy, silly, sweet, amazing young adults, because how could you not? how else could you possibly feel? but here, they are genuinely just... that funny. they are actually just so funny that you as a reader click with them and find yourself grinning like an IDIOT because oh my god you’re disasters. maybe it’s the inherent relatability of a tired highschooler trying to make it through the summer and hating his job along the way, but this fic hits right in the heart every damn time.

got nothing for you other than love

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/17596658)

"You trust me," she says.

They both know it's a fact, not question, but he still says, "Of course."

and

By then, his shell wasn't something he could step out of. It was part of him. But that was okay. He didn't need more. What he had was enough.

He always did have trouble with wanting more.

and

"Hey, babe?" Nancy turns her head to look at Steve, touching his shoulder. "Can you buy me a drink?"

"Sure thing. What d'ya want?"

"Surprise me. Not like that time we were here and you snuck out the store, went to a smoothie stand, and came back with a mango smoothie."

Steve grins. "But I did surprise you."

and

"Do you have food in the backseat?"

"The sandwich has only been there for like, two weeks—"

and

"Ugh. Too much cheese. I'm lactose-intolerant, remember?"

"False, you're not intolerant of anyone except people over the age of fifteen with bowl cuts and guys who wear shorts in the winter."

and

"Where are you off to? I'm your only friend," Kali says, frowning.

and

"You good, man?"

"Yeah," he says, his throat dry, "I'm great."

"Yeah, you are," Nancy says, and he is. He is.

and i can’t continue because that’s, like, barely halfway into the fic and i’ve already skipped so many of my favourite lines and i would have to skip so many more. you see what i mean about sathana being funny as hell? and like all the others, it’s not just the humour here. i mean... it is, because it’s SO FUCKING FUNNY I LITERALLY CANNOT SAY THAT ENOUGH but the reason it’s so funny is because it’s so candid. it’s so smooth. the whole thing flows. you’re not left feeling that you’ve missed a piece or that anything was sacrificed; you just feel like you’ve read something incredible. this fic is an experience of its own that i honestly have never experienced before. it’s sweet, and it’s gentle, and it’s just so overwhelmingly good that i don’t think i’ll ever quite get over it. in short? it’s a blessing. my expectations were high, but holy fuck did you blow them to bits.

one more favourite line:

Things are ending, things are starting, and everything looks bright. It won't always be that way. The sun's got to set at some point. But, gazing up at the sky, at the pink bleeding into orange, Jonathan figures it'll have to rise again. No matter what happens, these two things are constant.

"Hey, you look awfully lonely," Nancy calls out, walking towards him, reaching out to him with the hand not in Steve's.

Well. Maybe not just those two things.

that scene, in general, is beautiful, and it wraps the story up on such a genuine note. it feels like a film with how clearly i can picture it. it feels like no fic i’ve ever really read before. it feels... good. i guess i don’t really have the words. it just feels so good.

as an overall statement on why i call her my favourite author... it’s the realism. maybe that’s surprising, considering how many times i said “funny” or “hilarious” in here, but in the end, i wouldn’t be so attached to her work if it didn’t feel so real. i can open a tab and instantly get transported to a home i’ve never lived in. it’s comfortable. it’s sweet. and the dialogue/banter is always perfectly crafted. there’s just never really a downside to her fics, honestly. even if i wanted to search, i don’t think i’d find one. not even one of those “their only problem is that there’s not more to enjoy” kind of comments, because every single one feels perfectly crafted in its own right. it doesn’t need more or less. it stands for itself and it’s goddamn good at it.

i didn’t anticipate having to do multiple parts on this post, but- surprise surprise- i haven’t even gotten to my favourite one yet! so yeah, pt. 2 will be written after i finish the history essay trying to murder me, god knows when that is. in the meantime, please go give her some love and adoration. she deserves it.

#stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stoncy rights pls #stoncy #steve harrington #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #fic rec #like HARD rec pls read #and if anyone who has read these fics wants to geek out w me....... come one and do it #sathana stans unite amirite

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rosy-cheekx · 4 years

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Case #0162406: Fear Factor

Case #0162407. Statement of Katherine Brown, regarding her experience in a Fear Factory. Statement taken direct from subject by Jonathan Sims, head archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. In your own time, Ms. Brown.

Please, it’s just Katherine. Did you have any trouble getting here? I’ve been told it’s quite hidden away. And I’m sorry again to ask you to come here but, as you can see, there’s really no chance of being able to pop down to London for a little day trip.

No, Ms. Katherine, it was no trouble. From what I’ve heard from the papers you have quite a story to tell.

Oh...you read about me? I was really hoping you wouldn’t. I didn’t want you to think I was crazy before hearing my story. I get why they think I am; I get why I’m here. But I know what happened, I know I’m not--

Ms. Katherine, please. I’m not here to pass judgement on your condition, just to take your statement. Now... In your own time.

Yes. Yes, of course...

I’ve always been a bit of an adrenaline junkie. When I was a kid, my friends and I would do anything we could. We were kids in the middle of nowhere, so it was mostly shoplifting and riding our bikes down big hills really fast, just to feel that heart-pounding rush of fear and success of survival. Our favorite thing to do, though, was go to haunted houses. From September through to Halloween, we would go to any haunted house attraction we could find and scream ourselves silly. As we got older, it became a more complex game. How long could we last, who would scream the least or the loudest, just kid stuff. Most of us grew out of it eventually, those sorts of attractions only get so scary. Rachel and I, though, we couldn’t get enough of it. We started finding weirder and weirder places to scratch that itch, that need to be terrified. As soon as she had turned 18, being a month and a half younger than me, we had signed up to go to our first touchable house. Typically, haunted houses have a no-touching-the-patrons rule, so the ones that don’t offer that safety were alluring to us.

It sort of escalated from there, really. In America, there was a guy who had haunted houses so terrifying that you had to sign waivers and take a psych exam to go through. I’ve read all sorts of stories about them locking people in cages, cutting their hair, feeding them all sorts of things. All completely consensual, of course, a whole new level of terror attractions. It was shut down, I think, but that was the kind of scare we wanted. To go through something like that, and come out alive? We wanted to feel invincible, immortal.

Three years ago, I think, Rachel was in this forum, looking for some attractions that would be open in September. The weirder they are, the more likely they were to be open year-round, because Halloween wasn't the point. She found a really buried ad for one called Fear Factory. I think the ad labeled it as “an immersive experience sure to scare the life out of you.” There weren't any reviews on it at first, which was initially a red flag, but with some digging, we saw it was new. Like, opened-its-doors-a-month-ago new. They seemed to be legit, their website boasted of other locations in America and Canada, but reviews seemed to be locked behind a password, so the experience wasn’t spoiled for first timers. Rachel put us on the waiting list. We were both freshly 21, feeling unstoppable, and weren’t really thinking about the risks.

A week or so later, we both got an email, claiming our application had been accepted and we were being offered an experience at the Fear Factory next Friday. We both eagerly accepted, and they sent us an address of where to go. We looked it up; an old office complex, rundown, but that fit the aesthetic of something like this pretty well. They had us fill out some detailed surveys, asking about fears, hard limits, and random things, like our relationship to each other, where we went to school, our interests.

We drove together to the complex, parking outside the building, and taking time to do our due diligence. We both texted Peter, a schoolmate of ours, gave him the address of the place, and a time to check in with us. Some of these more complicated scenarios take a while, and it was already 9 in the evening, so we told him to call us at 2 a.m. to check that we were okay.

As we were both on our phones, we heard a woman clear her throat. She was tall, wearing a black jacket and jeans, and her sunglasses reflected the streetlamps off the lenses. She introduced herself as Mara and said she would take us to the “beginning of the end.” We laughed at that, elbowing each other over being scared. She took us up a few flights of stairs, before rapping a fingerless-gloved hand on the door of the third floor’s landing. She told Rachel to go in and someone would meet her there. I squeezed her hand twice before she left. I wish I had something, told her that I loved her, that I’d see her later, something.

She brought me to the sixth floor and showed me into a small room. There was a small chair, but the room was completely empty other than that. It smelled sickly sweet, like something rotting. Mara let me in and handed me a strip of black cloth. A blindfold. I sat in the chair and tied it, knotting it carefully beneath my ponytail. She told me to count to 100, take the blindfold off, and the game would begin. As she closed the door, something I couldn’t quite call music began to play. It was high pitched and resonant, almost like an echo of laughter layered over itself.

I began to count, feeling like a kid as I added an unspoken “one hundred” underneath to make sure I wasn’t counting too fast or to slow. As I reached one hundred, the creeping music stopped. I took off the blindfold and blinked to adjust to what I now found myself in: oppressively cold darkness. I stood and extended my hand, slowly making my forward to where I knew the door to be. The intense feeling of fear began to creep over me, and I felt an irresistible smile spread across my face. I found what must be the handle to the door and twisted it. I shut my eyes tight against the harsh white light that filled my field of view. I blinked and adjusted to the light of the stairwell gradually, feeling a wave of nausea wash over me. My vision pitched suddenly, the frame of the door bulging impossibly, twisting into what seemed like a smile. I inhaled sharply, like filling my lungs would catch my balance.

The sharp descending of the stairs twisted in front of me, my vision still swirling; it would take too long to take the time to carefully step down each without falling. I had to get to the fourth floor. I could escape there. Without really thinking about what I was doing, I leapt, hand on the railing, clearing the full set of steps as my anchored hand guided me down safely. The door for the fifth floor was in front of me, a dull pale metal, but I knew it wouldn’t be safe there. I repeated the process again, using the rail as a track for my hand as I jumped from the fifth floor landing to the fourth, the door with the 4 emblazoned in in black paint rising before me like the pearly gates. I would be safe there. I would be safe there.

I thrust open the door and found myself in the middle of a hallway. The floor was a murky pink and brown laminate, and the white ceiling low. There were no windows. Both ends of the hallway seem to split into two passages. Panic rose in my chest; they were coming. I had to go. I picked blindly, turning left, and running full tilt down the hall. Almost as soon as I had started running, I saw figures turn the corner. Their forms shed no shadows, a part of me registered, but it carried no weight as the bald, rotting, decrepit bodies sprinted towards me, ragged nails and broken teeth glinting in the light of the hallway. They leapt at me, biting and scratching. I’m sure I cried out as one took a chunk of flesh from my hand, but the blood pumping in my ears drowned out most sounds. I don’t know how I fought them off, honestly, adrenaline was overpowering all other senses. I continued running down the hallway.

There was a door. It was identical to the doors that had been in the stairwell, the cold brushed metal distorting reflections. It was only then, seeing a vague version of myself staring back at me that I realized I was no longer feeling that swirling dizziness. Relieved, I opened the door. I wasn’t entirely sure what I am expecting but it certainly wasn’t my dormitory. The tall bedframe, the simple desk, the wardrobe with the mirror hanging over the front of it. It was the mirror, of all things, that beckoned me. I let the door fall shut behind me as I took the few steps to cross the room and stare at myself. There was blood streaked across my face, and it dripped from my hands, which I realized with a start were still curled into tight fists. I had been wearing overalls over a sweater, but the front hung off me like a wilted petal, a snap apparently broken off during my previous encounter. I was a mess. I was dirty. I needed to change.

As soon as that thought had entered my head, I was already peeling off the destroyed overalls, all other thoughts set aside. I should have known it wasn’t over, that fighting a couple zombie-like creatures wouldn’t have been enough. It was too warm in this room, too sterile to be my dorm. But none of those concerns crossed my mind as I opened the creaky wooden door to the wardrobe, where I knew a fresh pair of jeans would be. And there were, I suppose. But opening the door had seemed to interrupt the new occupants of my closet, a massive hive of wasps that had built a nest along the swinging corner of the door and the small magnet that held the door closed. I had effectively torn the nest in two, and my error was not easily forgiven. I did hear myself scream this time as furious insects swarmed me, sharp stings lighting up my body like a thousand electric shocks. I staggered and backed into the wall, hands pressed over my eyes, too instinctively concerned for my sight to try to swipe at the wasps that flooded my senses. My scream didn’t last long, as my open mouth encouraged some stings to my tongue as well, and I gritted my teeth shut, heaving panicked breaths. I wasn’t sure how long I was there, pressed into the corner opposite the wardrobe, until gradually I realized that the stinging over my body was the throbbing of the previous wounds, not the inflicting of new ones. Tentatively uncovering my eyes, I surveyed the room. I was grateful to discover I must have knocked the mirror off its supports in my struggle, unable to comprehend what I must look like now, more histamine than human. I crept forward, avoiding the broken glass, except for a brief pause to stoop and gingerly grab a hefty shard. If there more of those undead bodies, I wanted to be ready. I also saw that the wasp’s nest was gone somehow. The compartment was devoid of the rolls of papery hive and any evidence the wasps had existed besides my aching body was gone. I was relieved and quickly grabbed the first pair of jeans I could find, wincing all the while as I shook out the folds. I refused to be sore and naked for whatever was about to happen next.

As I shook out the dark denim, I watched a handful of tiny specks fall off the pants. I wish it were a lie to say I almost laughed when I saw that they were ants, marching fastidiously along the creases of, upon inspection, every pair of pants I owned. Lucky for me, I suppose, that ants had never bothered me. The bad joke, however? Brutal.

You know how they say that adrenaline and fear help you preserve memories? Flashbulb memories, they’re called. Of traumatic or significant events. Well I think that even the adrenaline that was pounding through me had its limits. I don’t remember what happened next. I must have run out into the hallway, must have tried to find my way out, but it’s all a bit of a blur. I remember something to do with my teeth and a pair of pliers, but I don’t think there’s anything there I want to remember anyways. The next thing I remember, however, is something I don’t think I can ever forget.

I was in another long hallway. Or it could have been the same hallway, I’m not sure how I would know. I saw shadows shift and contract, and a form emerged, completely enveloped in shadow. It looked like a person only in that had two arms, two legs, a torso, and a head. The hands were long, and the elbows crooked at wrong angles. The torso was slightly lopsided, like the head was too big to be supported properly. The legs were also impossibly long, and I couldn’t see feet. There was a sound, too, that was bothering me, but I couldn’t quite place it. It was like a low droning or buzzing, like it was trying to speak to me. We stood, frozen in a face-off before it lunged at me, moving at impossible speeds. I blinked and it was practically on top of me, swiping with its talons for fingers. I took some nasty swipes across my abdomen and stabbed at it with my shard of mirror. I missed once but the second time, I stabbed it where the neck and shoulder met. Shadows spilt from the wound, covering my hand in dark fog.

That was when I heard it. The buzzing sound sharpened and cleared up. I heard Rachel, crying, saying my name. I blinked and the shadow person was gone, and it was Rachel who I saw, Rachel whose blood was pooling around my hand, Rachel who I had stabbed. I dropped the mirror fragment and tried to apologize, but the words couldn’t quite leave my throat. I couldn’t bring myself to explain, apologize, or even comfort her, but the light had left her eyes soon enough and I knew I was ready to give up.

Police found me later. Apparently, we had been missing for two days. I don’t remember much of the trial, honestly, but there was never any evidence of either of us being drugged up or anything. They called it a temporary psychotic episode brought on by panic. I was put here instead, and I spend every night trying to avoid sleeping so I don’t see Rachel’s eyes, staring back at me, begging me to help. The...The wasps were real, though, I remember being treated for them in the hospital later.

Thank you, Ms. Katherine. Have... Have a good day.

Click.

This has been a frustrating one to research. One would think a story with an online internet ad would lead to something. But no, Sasha hasn’t been able to track down any sort of Fear Factory, except for some Salt Lake City haunted house, but further research didn’t lead to any connections. There’s also a band, but there’s also no connections to anyone with the name Mara. Sasha was also able to finagle her way into old text records between Rachel and Peter, and got the address, near Oxford. Martin took a trip down to take a look at it but didn’t find anything. There was, in fact, an abandoned building, and it was, the site of the homicide of Rachel Tillvale, by Katherine Brown, according to police records. The odd part, however, is that Katherine was certain that she was taken to the sixth floor of the building, and that the fourth floor was her escape. Unless Martin has become wholly incapable at his job, which...is probably not the case, there are only three floors of that building. The weird part was the basement. Ms. Brown had mentioned something but couldn’t recall it. I understand why. In the basement of the building, there was a handful of adult teeth in the utility sink.

#tma #tma fanfic #magpod #magpod fanfic #the magnus institute #the magnus archives #this was literally based on a dream

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itsreysolo · 4 years

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there are 100 questions, so i thought sending you 10 would be the right thing to do lol 🙈 here goes: 2, 9, 13, 34, 41, 47, 57, 63, 84 and 99!

2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day?

Answered :)

9: do you like singing/humming to yourself?

I do, but only when there’s music playing because I’m shy and I don’t want anyone else to hear me

13: what’s something that made you smile today?

Having the chance to walk into the theater I work in and seeing my manager again after three months. It was honestly the happiest I’ve been in a really long time. He’s like a second dad to me and I’ve missed him a lot

34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it?

I think the oldest stuffed animal I can think of is a little tabby cat with a blue bow on it. I don’t think I ever named it though? and I’m pretty sure I still have it stuffed in a box in my closet :)

41: what’s the last book you remember really, really loving?

Oh gosh, I honestly don’t read many books. I think the last one I was completely obsessed with had to be while I was in high school. There’s an author named Julie Anne Peters that has amazing LGBT literature for young adults and they helped me a lot when I was younger. Rage: A Love Story was my favorite

47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe?

KFC

57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics?

Okay, I’m going to be completely honest... please don’t hate me... but I think I’m one of the few people that don’t like that song. Maybe it’s because a guy in my class would sing it every. single. day. and I just can’t listen to it without thinking about that

63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be?

I’m not too picky about it? Of course I have different playlists for my slower songs, 80s music, classic rock, etc...

84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones?

I am! I’m planning on getting an elephant on my arm when I’m able to take another trip to Hawaii, and a quote on my side if I’m ever able to go to Boston (there’s an artist there that I’ve been dying to get a couple of pieces done by for a while now). There aren’t many artists in my area that specialize in the kind of style I’m interested in

99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them.

Saturn - Sleeping At Last I Won’t Let You Go (Darling) - Hedley Younger - Bootstraps Ghost - By The Coast Us Against the World - Jonathan Maiocco Fever - Sunsleep Thoughts - Sasha Sloan Hate Myself - NF

#thank you so much darling!!#you're an angel!#i had fun answering all of these #reysolox #answered

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americanphancakes · 5 years

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hiya zer0! Hope the holidays have been good for you and your family! for the ask questions: 2,15, 29

They have been excellent. This might have been the best Christmas my family has had in a long, long time actually. :)

2. have you ever found a writer who thinks just like you? if so, who?

Oh goodness no. Every writer I've ever enjoyed - fanfic authors included - have had far superior brains to mine. lol

Emily Dickinson - an ADHD bisexual introverted loner and lover of em-dashes who was afraid of death but trying to make peace with her mortality - is probably the closest in the literature world. In the fanfic world, I feel like half the writers I read are like a 90% match in general but I feel like @succubusphan is more in sync with my brain than I previously realized! XD

15. five most influential books over your lifetime.

THIS IS SO HARD TO NARROW DOWN. I'm gonna list the ones that came to mind first but there are at least 5 more flooding into my brain.

Let's get this out of the way: Jonathan Livingston Seagull, which I read when I was 11 or 12 years old on my mom's recommendation. It's a book that gets a lot of shit, but it taught me not to be afraid to be weird. It was exactly what I needed at that time of my life and honestly I still need it from time to time.

Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman. Neil in general creates stories that grab on to my imagination in a way few other things too. I wish I had his imagination. This one in particular resonated with me as someone who feels like a perpetual outcast, and I still admire the way its world was built. Books that have this same sort of approach to their worldbuilding are the kind of fantasy I tend to gravitate towards, and there's not enough of it.

The Crucible by Arthur Miller. Specifically, Reverend Hale's side story. I feel like we need more historical figures and literature characters like him - someone who believed one thing wholly and devoutly, but then changed his mind when presented with enough evidence. I think we need more examples of this. I read this in high school 20 years ago, but it NEVER left my mind, in large part due to Reverend Hale.

& 5. A tie between Let's Pretend This Never Happened and Furiously Happy by Jenny Lawson. I'd read her blog for years before her book came out, and she's one of those people who makes me feel less alone. She has all these mental health issues that I identify with and she's self-conscious about age and she loves her pets and she has a supportive husband who doesn't fully understand her and she's basically me if I were just a little tiny bit more brave. I can't tell you how much these two books have made me laugh, cry, and just generally feel better about existence. I often ask myself "What Would The Bloggess Do." I will love her forever.

(but also ishmael, anthem, animal farm, dragonflight, the name of the wind, one red paperclip, high fidelity, the catcher in the rye, much ado about nothing, the element by ken robinson, a modest proposal, and organizing solutions for people with adhd and yes that's the most random list of books ever probably but i am who i am right lol)

29. three songs that you connect with right now.

"Live Outside" by Enter Shikari

"Alterlife" by Rina Sawayama

"reminds me" by Ayumi Hamasaki (the link goes to an essay & translation by me about the song since it's not in English. The other two are though. :P)

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ask-the-munchkin-crusader · 6 years

Text

Luckyland: The Quest for Questions

Walking over what seemed to be twenty something grass-covered hills, Iggy and Amy trekked on finding no sign of Joseph or anyone else for that matter. It was as if this area was deserted, minus the whole desert part. How was no one here?

As they climbed up the next hill, Amy began to see the outlines of the upper part of a building. “Iggy, I think I see a building,” Amy proclaimed as they got higher and higher up the hill.

“You think so?” Iggy asked as they climbed.

“Yeah. Come on!” The little auburn haired child soon began to sprint up the hill, climbing upwards as she got a clearer look of the building. Upon reaching the top of the hill, the building soon came into full view and Amy could only stare at what she saw.

Soon joining her at her side was Iggy, panting a bit as he came to sit next to her on her left. He looked up at Amy and saw the confusion and shock in her eyes. “Hey, kid, you okay?” He questioned when he saw her confusion. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“…..It….It can’t be,” Amy slipped out, making Iggy even more confused. “T-That mansion is….”

Looking at the mansion, Iggy could see nothing wrong with it. It looked like one from Victorian era England, which was a bit odd, but they had travelled to an unknown place after being in a hospital. An old mansion couldn’t have possibly been that strange. “I’m not following, kid. Do you know this building?”

After a bit of silence, Amy finally blurted out what was on her mind; “It’s the Joestar mansion!” She declared. “It’s the home that Jonathan Joestar and Dio grew up in in Part 1. But, I’m not sure how it’s here. Jonathan burned it down the night Dio became a vampire, so how’s it here of all places?”

Iggy didn’t reply. He just looked at the child in confusion. He wasn’t entirely sure what she was going on about. None of it was making any sense to him. What was she talking about with Parts? The only thing he could understand was Dio, but even that bit about him made little sense.

“Did Mr. Joestar go down there, Iggy?”

“Smells like it,” Iggy confirmed with a single whiff of the air. “His scent is heading down towards the mansion. He must’ve gone inside.”

“Then let’s go!”

Walking down the path a bit, Amy and Iggy made their way towards the mansion. Amy was filled with a mixture of emotions as she looked at the building; on one hand, she was excited because she was finally getting to go to the Joestar mansion where her favorite JoJo was raised; on the other hand, she was confused as this place had been burned down by Jonathan and was now standing in pristine condition right in front of her and Iggy? How was this possible? And what, or who, was inside? Was it just Joseph in there? Or would they run into a possibly younger Jonathan and Dio? That would’ve been all kinds of awkward.

Gulping a bit, Amy slowly pushed one of the front doors inward, not sure of what to expect inside. The foyer itself looked normal, like it had the many times Amy had seen it, but there was something very different and wrong here; instead of one set of stairs leading upwards, there were several sets all throughout the foyer; some were going up, some were on the wall, some were going down, some were going zig-zag through mid-air. The inside seemed much bigger than it looked on the outside as well; some stairs extended so high that Amy lost track of them visually. She rubbed her eyes when she saw what she thought was just an optical illusion. Nope; not even in the slightest.

“…..Uh, Iggy?” Amy finally spoke after taking in the trippy scene for a long enough time.

“Well, uh, I’m picking up the old man’s scent all over this place so we might have to split up,” Iggy stated, a bit unsure of himself.

“Split up?!” Amy gasped. Even though she hadn’t watched any horror movies, she was aware of the rule of thumb when it came to this sort of situation: NEVER SPLIT UP! “Iggy, we can’t split up! We don’t know where any of these stairs will lead us or if Mr. Joestar’s the only one in here! We can’t just split up!”

Iggy huffed. “We don’t really have much of an option, kid. We either wait here and do nothing, or we go out and try to find the old man.”

Biting her lip a bit more, Amy caved in and agreed to Iggy’s plan, but she was not happy about it.

Taking one of the stairwell’s up, Amy ascended the stairs and as she was going up, the stairs began twisting and turning in all directions; at one point, Amy felt like she was walking upside down, yet she wasn’t falling down or anything! The décor of the mansion was all jumbled too; one place would have a wall with perfectly normal paintings while a vase would be mindlessly floating past Amy with seemingly no intended direction. Amy even swore she walked by the Joestar family guardian statue while walking sideways on one of the stair sets going against the wall. It honestly reminded Amy of Super Mario Galaxy with its changing gravity levels.

“This place is giving me a headache,” Amy said as she went over to a normal sense of gravity set of stairs. “How come this place is all topsy-turvy? And where is everybody?”

“Oh no, oh no, oh no!” A voice suddenly said from one of the many rooms that were upwards near the upmost set of stairs.

Amy immediately recognizes the voice as belonging to Joseph. She followed one of the larger set of stairs and heads up to see if she can find Joseph and finally gets some questions answered. After a few twists and turns through the confusing staircase, Amy reached a third floor with an elongated hallway that extended in each direction. Had the one door just to her left not been open, Amy would’ve had no inclination whatsoever which room to go into to look for Joseph.

Speaking of which, Amy poked her head inside the open room door and saw the Joseph she and Iggy had been chasing was going through a set of dresser drawers, frantically searching for something. “Where is it? Where is it?!” He panicked. “If I don’t find it, I’m doomed!” He had yet to notice Amy standing and watching him, probably due to how consumed he had been by this search for whatever it was he was looking for.

Looking around the small bedroom, something seemed to pop out to Amy that somewhat glistened under the dresser. Amy went over to investigate and bent down to find it was a small, green heart-shaped pendant that pinned on like a pin to a shirt. Something about it gave Amy chills, like, despite its small stature, it still resonated with evil. Was this what Joseph was looking for? Only one way to find out; “Uh, Mr. Joestar? Is this what you’re looking for?”

Upon hearing the small child’s voice, Joseph did a complete 180. He was shocked not only to see the little girl, but also to see that she was holding the object of his search, the one thing that would determine if he would live or die. “Thank you so much for find it,” He quickly thanked Amy and then pinned the pendant to his shirt, sighing in relief as he did so. Then, his demeanor changed to that of an angry-panicked one, which he turned towards Amy. “Why are you here, child?! You shouldn’t have come!”

The six-year-old in question raised an eyebrow in confusion. What on Earth was Joseph talking about? Why did he seem so upset about her following him here? “Mr. Joestar, what are you talking about?” Amy asked. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“This place is no place for a young child to wonder about on her own,” Joseph stated, adjusting his pendant-pin a bit more to make sure it was on properly. “The Queen will have a cow if they find out about this…”

Queen?Amy thought.

“Go home,” Joseph told her. “You should leave before you get into serious trouble.”

“But, Mr. Joestar….”

“And how do you know my name? I never said it to you.”

“It’s me, Amy!” Amy practically shouted at this point.

Now Joseph was the confused one. He raised an eyebrow at the little girl.

“You know, Amy; I’ve been travelling with you in the others to Egypt for some time now!”

No reply.

“Do you not recognize me?”

“….I’m sorry, but I’ve never met you before,” Joseph stated in a matter-of-fact manner.

What was going on? How could Joseph not know who she was? And what was all this business about a Queen? She had more questions than answers at this point.

“As I said earlier, you should leave, child, before you wind up getting in a situation you can’t get out of. Good day to you.”

With that, Joseph left the room and went racing up one of the stairs. Amy tried to give chase, but she lost which way he had gone. His words still puzzled her. What was going on around here?

“Kid!”

Amy quickly turned to her side to see Iggy racing up one of the stairs. She met the dog halfway and caught him in her arms as he jumped up towards him. “Iggy!”

“Are you all right, kid? Did you find any sign of the old geezer?” Iggy questioned.

“Sort of,” Amy admitted, unsure of how to explain it all. “It’s a bit confusing, but maybe we should try and find a way out of here first.”

“Okay, any ideas?”

“Up. I think we should go upwards.”

The Boston terrier raised an eyebrow at what Amy had suggested. Go up? Wouldn’t it have been better to go down back towards the entrance?

“Why up, kid?” He asked.

“Well, I, uh, saw something strange up there,” Amy lied through her teeth. “But, I think we should check it out.”

Despite being a bit skeptical, Iggy agreed and the two went upwards. The whole time they walked, the duo was silent. Amy was trying to figure out all the stuff Joseph had said to her. Why was he acting so weird? He kept telling her to leave before she ran into trouble, so did it mean there was danger afoot? What could he be talking about?

Soon, they came to a lone door that floated at the top of this last staircase. Amy and Iggy slowly approached the door and pushed it open. They walked through it to find that there was a forest on the outside. Wait, what?

“Where are we now, Iggy?” Amy asked, even more confused than before.

“Beats me,” Iggy answered. “I’m just as confused as you are, kid.”

None of this place was making a lick of sense! It just seemed like one jumbled-up mess. One minute they’re in a mansion, then they exit it from a floating door and they’re in a forest?! What was this place?!

“We should probably keep moving,” Iggy soon spoke after absorbing the strangeness of it all. He had to take charge here and keep everything from falling apart. “Come on, kid.”

“Okay, coming, Iggy.” Amy followed after Iggy as they started walking down a beaten dirt path that twisted and turned through the forest. This forest looked like it belonged in a storybook; serenity, other than a few birds chirping; a river flowing softly through the foods; trees stretching up to average tree high and letting off the precious scent of nature. Had they been somewhere else, Amy would’ve assumed that she was on a family picnic.

They walked and walked and walked and walked for what seemed like eternity to Amy, when it was actually only a few minutes. She was getting exhausted. “Iggy, how much more do we have to keep walking?” She whined. “My feet hurt.”

“Don’t start, kid,” Iggy sort-of snapped back. “You’ve done more walking with the others, I’m sure of it.”

“Yeah, but that’s different: usually, if I get tired, someone carries me for a while so I can rest up.”

“Well, you’re just gonna have to suck it up, kid,” Iggy told her.

Amy sighed. From the corner of her eye, Amy spotted something peculiar. She turned in the direction she had seen the strange thing and gasped when she saw that it was bubbles. Bubbles? In a forest? Why not.

Being the little girl she was, Amy couldn’t resist the bubbles’ alluring charm. She began to stray off the path and go over to where the bubbles were. She immediately popped one and began to giggle after doing so. In all honesty, she needed to feel better. Low and behold, there were more bubbles and they were all floating along the river. Amy followed the bubble trail upstream, popping a few every now and again, before coming to a large oak tree that sat next to the stream. Bubbles seemed to be falling from the tree and were all around her by the dozens. It was like a Bubble Wonderland. Popping more and more, Amy couldn’t help but giggle even more. This was all so much fun!.....Too bad it didn’t last too long.

“JOJO!” A young Italian voice rang out, causing Amy to jump in fright. She quickly ducked behind the tree as she heard someone stomping closer and closer to her. When she peaked her head out to see who it was, she gasped at the person she saw; looking around was Caesar Zeppeli! Now this was beyond confusing. How was Caesar here? And how was he so young? If Caesar had actually survived the battle with the pillar men, he would’ve been Joseph’s age, right? So then, how was he here and so young? His outfit was strange too; while he kept the headband with the feathers, his pants were vertically striped with an aqua-green color pallet to it, while his shirt was just a plain white one that looked to have been recently washed.

“I can’t believe it’s Caesar,” Amy silently gasped to herself with wide eyes. “How is he here?”

“JoJo! Where are you?!” Caesar growled as he turned his head to look around. “Come on, you clown! We have to get going!”

“CANNON BALL!” A voice rang out from atop of tree. Without warning, a huge splash came from the river and completely drenched Caesar from head to toe. He wasn’t too happy from the looks of it. And, from the looks of it, the perpetrator of this splashing was a young Joseph Joestar?! Huh?! What the heck?!

TO BE CONTINUED

#luckyland #amy #jjba iggy #jjba joseph #jjba au #jjba halloween event #confused yet?#jjba caesar #jjba fanfic #go ahead and ask amy and iggy some questions #confused child is now even more confused #luckyland chapter 2

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wintaer-bear · 6 years

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Tulips (M) Ch. 1

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader x Jeon Jungkook Genre/ Rating: smut, mature (18+) Word Count: 6.3k ***WARNING: mature themes, strip/bar/club!AU, mentions of cheating/infidelity, explicit content, slight alcoholism and a flirty Jungkook Summary: Jung Hoseok is over you. He’s been over you. So when he sees you drinking up the bar with Jungkook, he has every intention of leaving it alone - until he doesn’t.

inspired by: Cheat Codes and Nickey Romero’s ‘Sober’

The best cure for a hangover is to keep on drinking. At least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself for the past two weeks. The boggling head pain disappears with another sip of wine. Two more and the empty feeling in your chest becomes so full with fluids you can’t remember a time is was anything but.

2:33 AM

You pick up your phone, not even bothering to see who’s number you’re dialing. At this point, it doesn’t even matter. You could care less about the company so long as it’s someone willing to drive over in the middle of the night with another bottle of wine.

“Hello?” The voice is bleak and shy, one you don’t immediately recognize.

“Come over,” you stay, focused on your articulation. “Let’s drink. Bring your own beer. And I'll take whatever white they have left on the shelf.” You eye into the opening of the bottle to make sure it’s empty. Every drop counts.

“Y/N?”

“No, you bozo. It’s me, Y/N,” you say pitifully. Despite your attempt to sound as sober as the next, you’re a slurring mess and it becomes evident that the person on the line doesn’t find you amusing by the pause. “Look, are you coming or not? I’ve got a whole contact list of people to go through if you’re not.” The phone is brighter than you remember and it hurts to look at it directly. It’s all a blur of colors through your wet eyes.

“I’ll be there in a few. Hang on. Same address?”

“He got the vacation home and I got the condo. That’s just how a divorce works, I guess.”

The other line of the phone goes quiet, side for the rustling against the speaker. You can hear a voice in the background asking where the recipient of the call is going but you can’t make out a response. Your eyes sting. The desperation in the question evident even through the phone. A shaking tone you resonate with all too well.

“Okay, I’m heading over. Try not to die, or whatever.”

“Don’t forget the alcohol.”

You end the call. The conversation already forgotten as you push yourself off the floor. The room is spinning, shaking your steps as you make it into your kitchen in search of more alcohol. You look in the cupboard. The wine rack. Twice. The freezer for some hard liquor. Nothing. A dry house it would seem if there wasn't a display of empty glasses all over the counter tops. A heavy breath of disappointment escapes you as you make way towards your bed. Your bed. The thought brings a sickening thought to your stomach and manifests in a liquid hurl from your mouth. There’s nothing left in your stomach to regurgitate. Nothing but the acidic sludge from the past week and a half. You don’t bother cleaning it up. Not now at least. You leave it for your sober, functioning self to deal with - whenever that’ll be. Sobriety, who is she? You don’t know her.

The room turns dim. You want to fight it. How foolish you must look, fighting your heavy eyelids beside the puddle of alcohol. If only he could see you now - the miserable state you knew to be inevitable. Your mind blanks at the thought.

11:11 AM. I wish this hangover would just end.

You wake in your own bed, sunk in on the softness of the sheets. You haven’t the slightest clue how you got here but it’s only assumed that you’re a higher functioning drunk than you give yourself credit for.

“Nice,” you give yourself a mental pat on the back. It’d be a real one if you could manage to roll off your back. But the covers keep you snug, comfortable with their weight on top of you - until you realize it isn’t.

You jump out of bed. The bed you used to share with your husband. Ex-husband? The term is still new. It’ll take some getting used to.

You haven’t slept in it in weeks. Not since the day you came home to Jason tangled up in the sheets with someone else. Someone thinner than you. Younger than you. Perhaps even prettier than you. You don’t know. You didn’t get a good look before slamming the door back in and heading downtown to your attorney.

You hate this condo. You always have. It’s never been comfortable enough to be a home - your home? No matter how many personal additions you add to the vast space, it reflects twice as empty and is just as unfamiliar walking through. The pillared wedding photo that hangs at the end of the hall. The arrangement of fake bouquets that decorate the end tables of the living room. Even down to the collection of keys and heels that hide at the entrance of the foyer. All these things seem out of place, misplaced and forced to fit in some geometrical shape when in fact, you are an oval. An odd shape of curves and bends - one that really knows no ending or beginning; one that simply just is.

The days get longer and progressively easier. You throw out one remnant of you Jason at a time. His toothbrush, his console, his chair. Though your marriage was rocky at best, you had still grown fond of the idea of falling in love after the fact - the idea of welcoming home a loving husband who thought about you during his day, evident by the bouquet of flowers he picked up on the way home. The fairytale quickly turned sour upon receiving adequate documentation. Documentation stating you legally husband and wife by the state and the ticket to his inheritance.

Then you begin to throw out things that remind you of him, things that make you queasy. Items like the plastic petunias by the door and the spices he uses to flavor his steak. Eventually, you’re able to throw out items belonging to the both of you. You get a new bed. New sheets. New end tables. The wedding picture is replaced with an abstract shelf and even though the shelves are empty, it still feels more alive than the masked smile on your face in the removed portrait.

You rebuild the condo into something warmer. A dwelling place rather than an empty space to rest. A place of living plants and fresh scents of flowers from the Sunday market. You replace the barren walls with wallpaper of red bricks of and grey stone, something you’ve always found homey but the previous thought to be distracting and a waste of his money. His money. Funny how much of his money is now yours and how much more easily accessible it is than when the two of you were together.

You even start rekindling friendships, reaching out to those you’ve lost contact with over the volatile years of your marriage. Friends from college, some from high school. Dancer friends. Friends who have forgotten you all together.

You should feel ashamed, embarrassed for dropping your friends to climb up the social ladder only to return three years later, but if there’s anything you’ve learned through your shit show of a marriage, it’s that pride and ego get you nowhere.

At first the conversations are light. A few “Y/N, how are you” and “I’m so glad you called.” But, as conversations go, the talks get progressively more intimate and dark. Questions concerning your divorce spring up. Subtle jabs to your character are thrown. Some conversations even go as far as angry feuds and impulsive hang ups. It’s not to say you don’t deserve it. Once you got hitched to Jason, you dropped your entire life all together to assume the role of an aristocratic home wife/bitch, arrogance you assumed with the last name.

By the time autumn ends you feel yourself caught up. You’ve hosted a number of brunches for the girls and spa nights for whoever was willing. Jessica has two kids now. A 2 year old boy and infant daughter. Her husband works in construction. Jonathan, is it? Nadi is working on getting into nursing nursing school, a newfound passion she picked up after graduation. Kimmy teaches middle school dance and volunteers at a studio on weekends. All the information is overwhelming. Heartwarming, but overwhelming. You can only feel yourself as someone unaccomplished as you stare into the mirror. It’s just you. No children. No husband. No profound calling. Not even a stable job. All you have is this condo and the alimony. Which sounds great at the forefront, but is isolating and lonesome come seven o’clock when everyone has to return home for familial and occupational duties.

No one mentions it. No one dares too. Not even Jessica who, unsurprisingly, is still into afternoon gossip despite her motherhood. There’s no news of how he’s doing. What he’s doing. You don’t know the slightest thing about him and it honestly feels like he just dropped off the face of the earth since your split.

It would be inaccurate to say you’re not interested, that you’re not the least bit curious of the details. You want to know. You want to satisfy some of the darkest parts of you that still believe in youthful promises and romanticism. But there is not so much as a whisper of his state of living. What did you expect, after all?

“I’m coming, I’m coming. I’m almost there. Give me three more minutes and I’m there,” you speak into your phone as you weave through groups of people. The voice shouts back at you to ‘hurry it up, or so help me God.’ But try as you might, the bustling foot traffic this evening leaves little to no room for a single person to squirm through. You’re caught at each stop light, staring at the traffic signs as if it’ll make the fluorescent walking man appear any faster. You’re late. You’re always late. It could be your own party and you would still be late.

By the time you reach the front doors of 148 Nadi and Kimmy are nowhere in sight. You can only assume Nadi couldn’t wait to get her birthday celebration started and is lost in the labyrinth inside. You enter, expecting the venue to be no different than the clubs Jason used to take you to on the rare occasion he took you anywhere. The bouncer scans your ID, then scans you, giving you the up down before he steps aside to let you enter. His smirk is mischievous, flirtatious if you didn’t know any better. Upon entry to it’s foyer and coatroom, you automatically notice the gold trim of the venue. It adds a subtle elegance to the otherwise occult atmosphere. There’s no wonder Nadi asked you to book a party here for her birthday.

You’ve heard of 148’s exclusive and strict entry policy. As many times as Nadi has tried to get on the list to check out the dance club she just didn’t have connections to the ‘right’ kinds of people for entry before it reached max capacity. People who weren’t on the list with reservations and VIP perks had to wait in the endless line, hoping parties would leave the club early - they usually didn’t.

It takes you longer than you expect to find them, in the middle of the dance floor no less. Nadi has two cups of mixed drinks in her hands. Why does that not surprise you? Kimmy, the teacher, you have to remind yourself, is hidden between two adoring men who look like they want to eat her. You pull both of them to the side, both to save them from themselves and the hounds around them.

“Shots?” You offer, dragging them to the barside. It’s packed, full with buzzed entailed fun and a whole lot of shoving. By the time you escape the hell hole and return for birthday shots, Kimmy has her tongue down some rando’s throat and Nadi is chatting up a group of girls who are obviously as drunk as she is. Sighing, you take the shots by yourself and leave the empty plastic on a high table. You forget how particularly unfond you are of clubs and the amount of alcohol it takes for you to ease up - or maybe that was just you in general. Bitchy, uncomfortable and alcohol dependent.

You allow Nadi and Kimmy to have their fun. It’s not every day they get to live a life of grandeur and aristocratic demolition. Though, you must note, the frequency has increased since your return. Shaking the thought, you try not to think about it. You try not to ponder the idea that you may not actually be the worst type of female out there. Your friends wouldn’t use you for social ties. No, that’s strictly a Jason thing to do - a sort of evil reserved for the privileged, petty and jealous.

You make your way to an empty booth, one by the edge where you can keep an eye on Nadi and Kimmy in the event they bite off more than they can chew. It’s dark on the dance floor, but Nadi’s sparkly sequin dress makes for a terrific tracking system. You order yourself another drink with the server, this time taking it slow as you sip it for content rather than falsified fun.

“Mind if I join you?” The owner of the voice slides himself in the seat opposite of you, now face to face as he speaks. You recognize him as the bouncer from earlier, the one with the over friendly smile. The same smile stretched out on his lips now as he runs his tongue over its outline - not that it’s where you’re looking.

“Not that you actually meant it, but yes, actually. I do mind. Those seats are reserved for my friends.”

“I could be a friend. Jungkook,” he introduces. His voice is flirty, a tone that reminds you of Jason when he speaks to his secretary - and any other able female. It automatically makes you defensive, no harm to him.

You roll your eyes but stretch out your hand to greet his anyway. “Y/N. Recently divorced.” You play his game and try to make this exchange as awkward as possible.

“Nice.”Jungkook shrugs at your statement and points to himself. “On-again-off-again boyfriend. Right now we’re off. Might be permanent depending on how this goes.”

“She found someone better?”

“Worse. But I was talking about us.”

“Unforntunate.”

“At least we weren’t married.”

You pause. Then laugh when you register the lightness of his words. You’ve never joked about your divorce before. Just a whole lot of unnecessary sympathy and curious questions.

“And the resting bitch face ceases,” he smiles back.

“On the occasion.”

“Glad I’m here to witness such rarity. Can I get you another?” He stretches his gaze to your drink. You hadn’t even noticed you had emptied all its contents into your system. Jungkook waves down the same server from before. She looks at you quizzically as if she knows what’s going on here and proceeds to whisper something in Jungkook’s ear before disappearing behind the bar.

“Work,” he assures you. “Nothing important.”

“Obviously,” you can't help will roll your eyes again. “I can’t imagine what would be more important than sabotaging what’s left of your relationship.”

“I appreciate your sarcasm, but rest assured, if my girlfriend and I break up, again,” he stresses, “it has little to nothing to do with what goes on between us tonight.”

“Did I mention the reason behind divorce was adultery?” He dodges your blows well and you’re finding his responses mildly entertaining.

“So you’re experienced, then?” He raises an eyebrow at you and you scoff.

“He,” you clarify. “He cheated.”

“Unfortunate,” he mocks. The drinks are delivered twice as fast as yours and is twice as full. “Cheers to failed relationships.” You clink your glass with the bouncer’s, unstopping and relentless until its contents are finished.

You don’t know how long you stay in the booth drinking and mocking the bouncer that should probably have already returned to his post, but it’s enough to get you feeling light headed and free.

“Here’s a question,” you stammer. “A rich spouse who cheats or a faithful but poor spouse who does what he can? And I mean, poor. Like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory poor.”

“Cabbage soup for dinner? Why is that even a question? The rich spouse.” Jungkook spits up a little in his mouth. “But keep the poor guy on side. You know, just in case.”

“Is that who you are? The ‘just-in-case-guy’?”

“That,” Jungkook slurs, “implies I’m a good man. I’m just the poor guy on the side.” He winks.

“Noted.”

You get up to use the bathroom.

“Hey, where you going? Are we moving this party elsewhere?” He calls after you, scooting out of the booth to follow.

“Bathroom,” you whisper, pushing the rising man back down in his seat. “Who knows if I’ll come back.” You didn’t notice from across the table, but his eyes are wet with sparkles. They’re as reflective as the leather jacket he has on - the one perfectly outlining the curvature of his long arms and broad shoulders.

“Or, we’ll see if I’ll still be here.” He pulls you down into the booth with him as he falls, the silhouette of your face inches away from his as you nearly fall on top of him.

“Odds are you will be.” You don’t break eye contact as he further lessens the space between you.

“Go home with me if you’re right?”

You shouldn’t let a smile slip from your lips, but it escapes you anyway. “Doubtful,” you say, bopping his nose with your pointer finger and breaking the intensity of his gaze. You rise yourself off him and head towards the lady’s room, quickly turning your stance in order to hide the blush bestowing on your cheeks. It’s the alcohol. It has to be the alcohol.

As you walk back, you take notice of the multitude of stages. You must not have noticed them before, full of dancers and entertainers blending in with the dance floor. But now, in their ending glory, the stages are empty and resemble something of a trampoline - a short lived fun followed by immediate revelation that you can’t actually fly, or do backflips, or toe-touches. Why you mind functions like this, you have no idea. You’ve worked on being more positive, promise, although it doesn’t show.

You stop by the bar. Again. You figure another drink or two won’t hurt. You’ve still got enough self control to tell bouncer boy Jung… Jung… what was his name again? Whatever. You’re in total control. “You’re not going home with him. You’re not,” a play by play you have to repeat to yourself.

Your analytical interpretation marks a halt when you catch an ambiguous, but oddly familiar silhouette by the corner. A silhouette that is quickly growing larger as you blink to make sense of it.

It’s odd. The presence. The sharp motion. The stranger almost reminds you of something you can’t pinpoint. Something you’ve felt before. Like a favored winter morning, or early sunset. It’s on the tip of your tongue. The familiarity, the brute movements. Then it hits you. Caught in the sudden flashes of the ceiling strobe lights and brought to focus by the Jack and Coke, the figure almost looks like him in the dark.

A sudden pang burns in the hole of your chest and you panic - a panic different from what you’ve been feeling. A panic different from walking in on Jason. A panic different from being alone through the empty nights. This unrelenting feeling burns cold. Burns an icy blue and stupefies your entire being. There is no anger laced at the source of this sentiment, no resentment. It’s just absolute wrecked longing accompanied by an overwhelming sense of guilt.

Hoseok.

You eyes dampen the second you catch his stare glaring back at you. There’s no mistake it’s him. Four years later, and here you are, still a puddle at his feet and he knows exactly what he’s walking into - who he’s walking towards.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink tonight,” he says with authority. You don’t even try to fight him as his hand grabs the plastic from yours. Hoseok finishes it in a single gulp. You know this because you can see the outline of his Adam’s Apple move just once, in a slick and defined motion. When he finishes, he crumbles the plastic in his fist and swings it to the side, gaze still intent on yours.

“Let’s go. I’ll take you home.” The man you haven’t seen in half a decade drags you out of the club. You don’t even think about the friends you’re leaving behind. Or the boy still waiting at the booth. You don’t think at all. No questions. You just let it happen, afraid if you think about it too hard, the fingers between yours might disappear in some kind of torturous, luminous dream.

It’s your greatest fear - both loving and hating the same thing. It’s something more potent than a guilty pleasure, more rudimentary than a complex emotion of lust. Hoseok is that. The taste you can’t get enough of, but the touch that kills you - something you’re reminded of during the silent drive home as he shifts gears between stop lights. He doesn’t talk. He doesn’t have to. His clenched jaws structures enough conversation for you to understand what isn’t said.

He still hates you. He still cares about you. He still -

“Don’t ever come back to 148. I’m putting you on my blacklist. They won’t let you in.” His words are cold, harsh and rigid. His eyes are still glued to the road but somehow you feel as though they are focused on you instead as you shrink beside him. You want to say something, but you vocal chords betray you, frozen in his presence.

“Hoseok... I…” you finally manage to murmur as he stops outside your complex. Hoseok doesn’t wait for you to finish your sentence. Instead he rushes out his door in a fury you’ve only seen once or twice and opens your door with enough force to jerk the entire car in his direction.

“Get out. Go home. I’ve got to get back to work.”

As if his threat of disappearance are the magic words your throat has been waiting for all night, you voice solidifies in the air. “Blacklist? Work? You work at 148? Since when? Why?”

“Get your head out of your ass, Y/N. Go inside.” He pauses to look at you through the doorway. “It’s cold out.”

For a second you finally find his eyes familiar, warm. But they soon disappear when he realizes you’re not budging from the passenger seat.

“I’m not here to play games with you, Y/N. Get out.”

You don’t want to leave. Not like this. Not when he’s so close. Not when he can disappear for another half decade.

“Come inside,” you say, soft and vulnerable. You bite the inner side of your cheeks to prevent the stream of tears threatening your stability. You’re not sure you have it in you to beg him to stay.

The grip he has on the top of the car door tightens and he takes a moment to maul over the offer while jaws lock in place. “I can’t.”

Two words never hurt so much. You don’t want to come of like a spoiled brat, crying at the first sign of rejection. But it more than that. His words run deeper than you would like to admit. You know the weight that the few words he has for you carry, the effort it takes him to roll them off his tongue.

“I’m not,” you assure him. “We’re not-”

“I know,” Hoseok interrupts. “But that doesn't change anything between us.”

“You know?” You stand, curious. You hadn’t thought he would keep tabs on you. If anything, it should be the opposite. Hoseok should be trying to completely obliviate every trace of you, removing you from even the deepest parts of him.

You feet drag you closer to him, a magnetic effect that occurs on its own accord. It takes a moment to adjust, to silently ask for his permission to rest your hands on his chest.

The moment your fingers make contact, you can feel all your atoms rush to the tips of your palms. Every piece of you wants to touch him, to be touched by him. It’s a feeling you haven’t forgotten. Misplaced, but not forgotten.

Hoseok must feel the same exhilarating rush because he pulls your waist in closer to his own, a gesticulation you’re sure he’ll regret in the morning, but right now could care little to nothing of. A sigh of content escapes your mouth. The night could end here and you would be okay with it.

But you’re greedy and you want more. You want him.

Your fingers clutch the fabric of his shirt and pull the final gap of your upper bodies to a minimum as your lips splay on his, asking for entry. The cold, rigid stunnation of his first gaze immediately set on fire by the sheer intensity shared between your longing lips.

He doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t pull away. He never does. Hoseok has always loved you in immoderation. He’s either 110% or none at all. And right now, he’s the former, the years caught up on his tongue.

There’s not a moment to breathe between the hungry kisses you share. Whether it’s your air or his air you’re breathing, you’re unsure. The kisses are wet and sloppy, but you can’t bring yourself to take your time with him. It isn’t until he moves his hands up the spine of your back and lips down the side of your neck that you’re able to get words out.

“Come inside,” you repeat, this time more daunting than anything.

“I shouldn’t,” he breaks his kiss as he breathes out into the cold night air.

Shouldn’t. That doesn’t mean he can’t. His words excite you. You’re one step closer to having him bending you over the dining table and taking what’s rightfully his. Your twat clenches at the thought of him back inside you, filling you in ways only he knows how.

“Please,” you speak into his ear, lips running down his neck in return. “I want you, Hoseok. I need you.” He groans underneath your touch, bites his lower lip as you begin to suckle on his exposed collarbone and run your hand against his covered groin.

You weren’t lying. In this moment, you did want him; you did need him. Whether or not he needed or wanted you was unclear and was what was keeping you from leading him up the steps of your condo in the first place.

“Come inside and let me feel you.” You’re now at a standstill, unsure if your begging is coming off as desperate and annoying or a sort of foreplay he’s developed over the years of your absence. You nuzzle your forehead against his hard chest, eyes shut tight to refrain from breaking the last of your resolve, from damaging the dam of tears you’ve so mercilessly held onto these past few months. “I’ve missed you.”

Hearing the tremble in your voice, Hoseok lifts your face from his chest, traces your lips with his thumb and slams the car door behind you.

“I swear,” he breathes, “you’ll be the death of me.”

The rush to your door is frantic, drawn out with extended kisses every other step and light fondling in the next. It’s a wonder no one hears you moan Hoseok’s name into the night as he pulls at your bare skin, impatiently guiding him to your bed. He grabs your ass in the elevator, slides his hands between your thighs as he pulls your backside into him.

“How much did you miss me?” he asks into your ear. It brings a tingling sensation to your knees, a high a girl can only reach from pleasures of the flesh. His fingers dance on your thigh as you’re a whimpering mess before him. “Tell me,” he commands, this time rough as he bites your shoulder. You shiver in excitement as he replaces his hands with his thigh and spread your legs up from behind. The heat lost from his hand elicits a utterral groan before you realize the return at the band of your skirt. “How much you missed my fingers,” he slides his slender fingers down your slit, teasing until you’re a begging mess.

“Hoseok,” you moan.

“How much,” he inserts his middle finger. “Did you miss my fingers inside your tight pussy?”

You hiss at the tease, the frolicking of his fingers outlining your core with your own juices. You want him. You’re ready for him. Even without his incessant teasing, you’re wet enough to take the entirety of his cock. You turn around to tell him, to dive into his mouth and let him know how excited he makes you but just as you do the elevator bings and comes to a halt, finally indicating your arrival.

You wet his lips with a quick kiss and grab hold of the bottom of his lips with your teeth, sucking just enough to get him riled and irritated. Smirking, you give him one final look before whispering in the lobe of his ear. You press your body to him, holding the jawline that moments ago were clenched in your presence. “Almost as much as I miss your thick cock filling me -”

You don’t get the chance to finish. Hoseok’s hold is tight as he grabs you by the curve of your buttocks and wraps your legs around his waist, smothering you once again with desperate laid out kisses.

“You’re so fucking greedy,” he says. “Thinking about my cock while my finger is already inside you.”

There’s no stumbling over passcodes, Hoseok doesn’t ask for or directions to your bedroom. Odd, seeing how he’s never been in your condo before tonight.

“Condom?” He asks, pulling his shirt over his shoulders. They’re more masculine than you remember. The sharp protrusions of his acromion now hidden behind the firm roundness of his muscles.

“Third drawer on the left.”

You’re in a hurry to catch up to him and undress, tearing off the pantyhose beneath your skirt.

“Hey,” he fumbles back onto the bed, kissing the bareness of your inner thigh. “That’s my job.”

“Your job,” you pull his jawline up to you, kissing him once again to let him know how much you want him. “Is to fuck me senseless into these sheets. Can you do that for me?” A smile thins his lips mid-kiss.

“I think I can manage.”

And manage he does.

Hoseok drives his teasing fingers from the sides of your hips towards your breasts, latching onto them as he traces the midline of your body with his tongue, only stopping when he gets to the tip of your clit. He pauses to kiss it, the tiny spot of stimulation. The coolness of his breath elicits a sigh from your choked mouth as you press him deeper in your cunt. His tongue does a rude dance along your slit, but refuses to enter.

“Unghhh,” you beg. “Please Hoseok, don’t tease me anymore. Just fuck me. I’m ready for you. Feel.” Your command is backed by the efforts of your hands as you use them to guide his own from your breast to your core. He lets you guide his fingers around you wet pussy, inserting them at will. The stretch of both your fingers in your unused cunt elicits more pants from your shortened breath. He chuckles in amusement, enjoying the desperation of your dripping cunt.

“Mmm,” he hums, rubbing circles around your swollen clitoris. “Stay still for me baby, let me finger fuck you.” Hoseok takes his thumb and index finger of his left hand to hold your clit open as he inserts two fingers from his right inside you, pumping in and out at an uncontrolled rate. His tongue drags along your inner thigh until they replace his fingers.

“FUCK,” you gasp. “Just like that Hoseok. God, your tongue is the best little fuck.”

At that, he indulges his tongue deeper in your cunt, tasting your thick juices as he struggles to refrain himself from using his teeth to trace your insides. He’s missed you. He’s missed your taste.

Your pussy twitches at the sound of him unzipping his jeans and your mixed juices begin to soak down your slit as you stare at him, replaying all the dirty things he’s done to you in the past. Fucking in the high school gym, fingering you on the bleachers of the football stadium, eating you out in his car the first night he got it, pounding into you the study rooms of the university library. There was nowhere the two of you haven’t fucked. Nowhere but here. The home of you and your ex-husband - the man who ultimately stole you away from Hoseok.

You watch him roll the condom onto himself as he lays back, back resting perpendicularly against your headboard. The same headboard, you imagine, that will be knocking against the wall by the end of this session.

“My turn,” he commands. “Ride me. Show me how much you missed by dick stretching your tight pussy.”

You immediately crawl over to him, allowing your tongue and breast to kiss the tip of his dick before you run it along your entrance. He shivers at the wetness of your mouth.

“Shit,” Hoseok hisses. “Just like that. Suck me just like that. Fuck me just like that.”

You hum in response, taking as much of his thick cock as you can.

His cock twitches in the back of your throat, activating you gag reflex. You can’t help but cough from his precum caught in the back.

“Why don’t you use your other entrance, dollface,” he murmurs, tapping the high end of your ass. You do as he asks, running his tip along the entrance of your slit. Unable to hold himself back like before, Hoseok lifts his hips in order to penetrate you.

“Ah, ah, ungh, ho- hold on,” you chant. He’s relentless, unceasing in his thrusts and doesn’t allow you to adjust to his width. A sadistic pleasure flows through your body. You love this, the pounding of his helps below you. Although he was the one to suggest you on top, he can’t help but control the tempo of his pleasure. You feel too good, your pussy too tight from the lack of use.

Hoseok flips you over on to your back, towering over you and hitting your clit as he continues to pound. “Take it. Fucking take it,” he groans in between his shoves. “Your pussy.” Thrust. “Is so fucking.” Thrust. “Unghhh - tight.” Thrust. “Did he even fuck you right?” Hard thrust.

The question is meant to be redundant, demeaning to Jason’s masculinity and praising your cunt, but you can’t help but catch the despair hidden in his tone.

“No,” you say, soft beneath him and grabbing whatever parts of his back you can as he jackhammers into you. “Never. He could never make me feel as good as you do.”

“Fuck,” Hoseok moans, burying his face in between the crevice of your neck. “I’m going to come. Your pussy’s too tight, I’m gon-”

You interrupt his speech with a formal kiss, running your fingers through his hair as he pulsates inside you, indicating his release. You pussy clenches around him as he does, milking his seed for all it’s worth. Even with the condom catching all his ejaculation, it excites you to have him come inside you, a sort of taboo that speaks a undetermined connection.

When his breath steadies, Hoseok rolls off on top of you and heads for the bathroom, disposing of the used rubber in the wastebasket by your bedside.

It takes him awhile to return, but when he does it’s with a fresh towel in hand. He wipes you clean, taking his time as he views the aftereffect of orgasm. He didn’t even think about your pleasure, about your orgasm - a new concept to you entirely.

Your hands catch his mid-thigh and there’s a second of stillness.

“Stay?” You whisper, hopeful and unravelled. He clenches his jaw again, a new habit he must started when he’s deep in thought. The second of hesitation is enough for you to ask for more. “Please.”

He nods, gently as he crawls back in bed with you, wrapping his familiar arms around your waist. You bare bodies feed off each other, heat being the only form of communication between two close-but-distant vessels. You fall asleep to the rhythmic sound of his strong breathing, counting as the moments between you are fleeting.

“Hoseok?” You want to shout, but the sound comes out as a mere whisper beneath your breath. You repeat his name like a mantra, like a child making a wish in the last determining seconds before she blows out the candles. It takes all your restraint to refrain from charging over there yourself to turn the stranger around in order to confirm or disconfirm his identity, which makes it all the more upsetting when the stranger turns around with the wrong nose. With the wrong lips. With the wrong eyes. It’s not him. It’s not Hoseok.

You wake with a jerk.

5:22 AM

The red digits stare at you. The sun’s not yet up. But Hoseok is. And you hear him shut the door behind him.

A/N: this is part of the Appease (strip/bar/club!AU) Series.

ps. i know. i hate OC too. she’s a indecisive, self-loathing, drunk, unreliable, piece of poo (aka me). stay tuned to see how much more fucked up homegirl is.

pps: lol @ me, no editing, whut whut.

#bts smut #hoseok smut #jung hoseok smut #jhope smut #jungkook smut

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chaoscrystals · 6 years

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novel ideas

I AM NEVER GOING TO WRITE A NOVEL by Nova Luz Palaquibay-Brener November 27 2017 11:16pm Nobody wants to hear about it. I have to worry about grammar and etiquette and not stepping on people's toes. What kind of life is this? Why have my parents and grandparents taught me to be afraid of living? What kind of hurt does offense really cause? Maybe it's a good thing if it makes you uncomfortable. Why? we've been over this. It's pushing your boundaries. The year 2017 is coming to a close and all my thoughts are all-consuming. I wish I could say I had just one, solitary, well-defined thought, like a pet rock or gecko. But no. My mind is a swim of memories and sensations and trying to helplessly predict the future. 8 times out of 10 i'm wrong I think I'm in love with someone called Jonathan. This is the closest I've felt to unconditional love, I think. I'm kind of mad at them though. I think they were lying to me about being in a relationship with Alexandra. Maybe she's not your "girlfriend" but if ya two were/are fucking and have an intimate relationship, then it's almost the same thing. I don't even know if i'm right yet because I haven't asked, but this is my hunch. I think they should have told me because it obviously bothered me, and its 100 times better that they weren't cheating on someone who thought it was a closed relationship, but it still bothers me. The thought of them with other girls sickens me. They told me they are in a relationship with multiple people. It breaks my heart again every time I remember that. I feel my heart splitting in two. But then I just want them more. What's going on, is this healthy? I am never going to write a novel because I am scatterbrained and starved for affection. I see it everywhere I go but I feel this is something I don't deserve. My jealousy burns me at the sides and leaves long painful lesions. I want to be home.

December 8 2017 12:02AM EVERYTHING IS UNFAIR by Nova Luz Palaquibay Brener Everything is unfair, I don't know which side to own, which side to disown, it's so much sweeter when you treat me, when you beat me too it is it is over done and burnt like my eyes I can't believe how achy my heart is how lovely it is to be blue, how lovely maybe i look lovely too, i am told i'm beautiful but nobody wants to caretake me and really i just want someone to take care of me

December 9 2017 12:50PM I don't understand why everything has to be a hierarchy or competions, i feel like a child, i'm a child and childlike, i might be asexual, i might be asexual, i don't want to have sex except for some of the time, but honestly lately, i don't really feel like i want to have sex anymore I want someone to put their hand over my heart and tell me they love me and mean it deeply, i want to hear their voice resonating in their belly and feel their hand over my heart I feel so hungry I feel so sad Everything I do is bad, I was always a disappointment, everyone sees me wearing black, everyone wears black now, everyone is trying to make a statement, everyone is failing at making a statement washing down the drain puddle of vomit rainy day I feel black, I feel bruised, I feel burnt, I feel influenced, I feel coed codependent i feel friendship i feel love

I AM NEVER GOING TO WRITE A NOVEL by Nova Luz Palaquibay Brener Bluebells swell sway melody swaying melody building on top of me fluffy bunny object idol i think she loves me I think she loves me I think she loves me the daisies are green and white and their pollen is yellow, I think she loves me, i thinks she loves me, She makes me feel like I'm in high school again and I like it, she's just the one for me, I never want to see another daizy dissy residual daydream insidious scheme not a daydream for the faint of heart, yes i think i've had enough. I think she loves me I see the number 33 I think she loves me I see the number 33

#writing #poetry #crystals #crystal #poet

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koribehindthekeyboard · 5 years

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I See the World Keep Moving as I Stumble

This post has been on my mind for a while. This is kind of what got this whole “starting a blog again” idea in my head in the first place, and it’s been something that I’ve gone back and forth about.

It’s kind of an intense topic to start out with, but hey, we’re getting to know each other on a deeper level, right?

I started an instagram account (@koriinketosis) that I am using to share about my weight loss journey, and this was something that I was originally going to post there but I couldn’t seem to sum up the entire post into the character limit. I know that I tend to ramble on a little too long sometimes, but I honestly feel that this topic deserves more space.

So, here goes...

In the spirit of being honest and open and forthcoming, I feel the need to talk about a major event in my life that has had an affect on every aspect of my life, from my physical health and weight to my mental health and everything in between.

On May 17, 2011, my mother passed away from ALS (Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, also known as Lou Gehrig’s disease). I was 17, and it was two weeks before I graduated from high school. She died in the middle of the night, early Tuesday morning. She was at home. She had been sick for a while. If you aren’t familiar with ALS, it isn’t pretty. My mother had become quadriplegic. She was unable to to eat, swallow, talk or communicate in general. She had a feeding tube. Her muscles had deteriorated and she was skin and bones and in constant pain and discomfort. She was confined to a power wheelchair, where she slept at night because she couldn’t breathe if she was leaning too far back. However, during all of this, her brain was fully functional. She was trapped inside a body that didn’t work.

Her symptoms started at the end of my freshman year, so my high school experience was spent at doctors offices and hospitals and physical therapy appointments and traveling for treatments. I took care of my mom as I watched her body fail. I prayed and prayed and cried and cried and watched helplessly as my favorite person in the entire world was slowly taken away from me.

During this time, I was a teenager. An annoying teenager dealing with all of the normal teenage bullshit while also having to grow up too fast but not quite knowing how to handle life. This meant that there were times I would get frustrated with my mom for things she couldn’t help. And to this day, I have not forgiven myself for that.

I talk about my mom, and I’m honest with people if they ask about her or her illness or her death. I don’t go into much detail. They don’t ask for much. My language is very matter-of-fact and emotionless.

There’s a certain level of surprise when someone hears that you’re young and you’ve lost a parent.

What I don’t tell people is how it feels. Maybe it’s because I don’t think they care, or maybe it’s because I don’t know how to put it into words.

I was watching Season 3 of Queer Eye, and Jonathan was discussing the loss of his step father and he made a comment that really resonated with me. He said that as human beings, we like to put things in boxes and move on. We want to take our grief and stick it in a box and put a bow on it and call it done, but grief doesn’t fit in a box. And he’s absolutely right. It seeps into everything. Every ounce of your being and every facet of your life. It pops up when you least expect it. It’s in certain songs, it’s in certain colors, it’s in your dreams. You can push it aside and you can act like it isn’t there, but it’s always lingering and finding subtle ways to gnaw at your insides without you noticing until theres a gaping hole that you need to find a way to fill.

The expression “time heals all wounds” is a lie. If you didn’t know that already, I hate to be the one to break it to you. It’s been nearly eight years since I lost my mom, and sometimes I think it hurts more now than it did back then. It just hurts in a different way. I feel like the pain never goes away, just changes form.

It’s affected me in different ways over the last seven, almost eight years.

I entered an unhealthy relationship that lasted too long where I went from taking care of my mom to taking care of a boy who took advantage of me in more ways than one.

I lost all motivation for school while taking classes at community college and failed a lot of classes and ruined my GPA. I ended up adding an extra two years to my time in college due to retaking courses and trying to raise my GPA in order to get into the education program at UNT.

I ate my feelings. I gained a lot of weight. At least 50 pounds of feelings. (Down about 35 of it thanks to keto)

I dream about my mom a lot. When that happens, its difficult for me to get out of bed in the morning. I don’t want to enter the reality where my mom is gone. I’ve spent entire weekends in bed trying to go back to sleep in hopes of dreaming of her again. It never works.

My self confidence hit an all time low (not that it was ever that high to begin with, let’s be real) and I developed social anxiety that left me too afraid to leave my apartment for anything other than work and class for an entire year.

I’ve overcome a lot of those things. I have graduated from college and I am now almost finished with my second year of teaching. I am working on losing the weight that I gained and am eating healthier and exercising. My social anxiety is manageable and I am stepping out of my comfort zone more and more.

But the grief is still there. Gnawing at my insides. I’m just waiting for it to make a new hole. When it does, I’ll find a way to fill it. I’ll overcome that one, too.

But I just want people to know that if they’re grieving, they’re not alone. There is no timeline. There’s no end date. And that’s okay.

It’s messy and it’s hard and it’s something that people don’t understand until they’ve felt it. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. Don’t be embarrassed.

It’s okay to not always be okay. You’ll get there.

Side note: when I blogged in high school, each post was titled with a song lyric from a song that I felt matched the theme of the post. Today’s title comes from “The Feel Again (Stay)” by Blue October.

#keto #ketosis #ketogenic #ketogenicdiet #weightloss #weightlossjourney #griefjourney #grief #griefisreal #griefsupport #loss #depression #anxiety

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redline1221 · 7 years

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🐷 which muse is most likely to win a pie eating contest🍁 what inspired you to write/create (All of them, you meanie )

🐷 which muse is most likely to win a pie eating contest

@arandrian Most people don’t know but that boy can pack it away like it’s nobody’s business. He’s got the metabolism of a hummingbird (highest metabolic rate of all animals) and given how much he loves food...damn right he’d win that contest in a heartbeat. Then literally just walk for miles working it all off.🍁 what inspired you to write/create (All of them, you meanie )I AM NOT A MEANIE. AnD OBOY HERE WE GO.

@denlandis - The Knight. He has heavy inspiration from my first community wide established Blood Knight character, Dendanis, back on Moon Guard. I have always had a fascination for the stories of Knights. Started with King Arthur, and just went on from there. Medieval era movies, fantasy genres, etc. I always look for the knight in the group. The idea of chivalry and its practice, I dunno, it’s just something that’s always resonated with me. With him though I wanted to do something different, so rather than a commoner he was a noble. Instead of trained fighter from birth, he was going to be a caster and switched. There are definitive notes of the original laced into some of the moments and behaviors, but he’s been a treat to write.

@aenlandrin - I’ve always enjoyed playing assholes. Figured I’d get that out of the way. Basically I enjoy writing, on occasion, the noble caste in Sin’dorei society and with that caste comes the command of some powerful magic. Blood Elf politics are generally swayed either through expansive military careers, or by how much magic you wield. Given the story I’d developed for @denlandis, it was natural to create the elder of the three brothers as well, too. He takes some inspiration from my other caster, @aenlanin but is decided less a dark character and has more of a presence to him in the way he’s written. Also, Jonathan Rhys Meyers. Nuff said.

@tennesonrhames - I blame @adilynia for him existing. Her cheeky, witty, ridiculously adorable barmaid @georgianathackery inspired his creation. With the notion of getting into Alliance RP I needed to come up with SOMETHING. My other love in terms of writing and movies, is westerns. I LOVE me a good western. So when I was sitting here thinking up a character so we could break into alliance RP, I randomly thought of an image of Karl Urban as Black Hat from the movie Priest. Never even seen the movie but I liked the image. Leather duster, aged hat, the yellow eyes. I’m also a phenomenal proponent for anything From Software, and with that getup I instantly thought of Bloodborne. So thus, the gilnean monster hunter with a leather duster and a busted up black hat was born

@redoriantherogue - Original inspiration for this boy was my rogue back on Moon Guard, Adardrian. He was a street rat turned soldier who eventually became a rogue, offering his services to the highest bidder and leading a group of mercenaries. DORIAN by contrast was once a noble merchant who traveled the world, had an extensive education, and prided himself on his looks and his shrewd business tactics. The common thread for the two of them were the women they loved. Both were priestess’, gifted in the light but physically very weak due to the use of magic. In Adar’s story they were able to overcome their trials, and currently live in his rebuilt tavern/inn somewhere in the Barrens. In Dorian’s story, Seranah (The sister of the Dwin’arniths) perished shortly after the scourge invasion. This single event is what created the man that Dorian is today, because it caused a universal shift in his entire story.

@arandrian - My love for exploring, and watching everything space related honestly. I enjoy writing characters that are enthralled with the world they live in, and who tell stories. That’s who Aran is. He’s the wanderer and the storyteller. He encompasses that feeling I get when I look out at the ocean or watch things about space and go “I WANNA KNOW WHAT'S THERE” because Aran’s like “I AM GOING TO GO FIND OUT” and he does, and he brings back ridiculous stories.

@aenlanin - He was actually a transfer from Moon Guard. The original inspiration for him was 1: my love of darker RP and the fact I hadn’t written any in LONG time, and 2: @knife-in-the-shadows. My wife had crafted an utterly brutal, femme fatale character, and I have a weakness for a vixen in leather that’s as likely to kill you as kiss you. He’s also inspired in part by the Ben Barnes portrayal of Dorian Grey. In the movie and book, you see a character that goes from innocent and naive to life, to having experienced so much of it that they seek the darker side of it. They thrive on the pain and the next new high from something they’ve never tried before. It leaves them cold and jaded, and a lot of that is translated into Aenlanin’s character. He lacks morals because he’s seen enough of the world to know they’re unnecessary. He lost a wife and two sons, and whatever life he had before is a distant memory.

@sathiossunwarden - I’ll again reference my love of writing assholes. With Sathios I wanted to take a departure from my typical plate wearing fighter. Rather than a noble, stalwart soldier sworn to his people, Sathios is an honorless brute whose only care is money and the next fight. His origin was in that chivalrous, noble sort of background, but after the Invasion he was literally just abandoned by the city he’d sworn his sword and life to, and ended up adrift with nothing to hold onto. So he did the only thing he was good at, fighting and killing. Also, Brock O’hurn. Because Brock O’hurn.

@sigmundironblood - Being my only Final Fantasy character I regularly play, with Sig I took some inspiration from my wife’s character @helenestonefist. Brawler from a lost city, the Ala Mhigans are a people out of place. They don’t have their own home any longer, and they don’t really fit in with the rest of the world because people have such a negative view of refugees. With Sig I wanted a simpler character just trying to get by, and making ends meet where he can. Miner with a night job of fighting in the pits using his muscle and skills to earn money. Pretty straightforward. :)

OH MY GOODNESS FINALLY DONE. THAT WAS SOOOOO MEEEEAN. *cut sarcasm* :P Was nice to write about all the fellas or as they’ve come to be known, the Beefcake Train.

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j-persian-princess · 3 years

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majestic

I love Jonathan to no ends. Once his sister and her old boyfriend were having issue and we were talking about it and he said something that really resonated with me, he said that if he was in that position he would do everything humanly possible to show his significant other how he felt because nothing else would matter. His sisters old boyfriend didn’t do that, he didn’t fight for her so they aren’t together anymore. But his loss was my own understanding.

Jonathan has calmed down, but he has a wall built around him that’s prob around 10000ft high and he won’t let anything get to him, if he feels there’s a chance he could get hurt again and he won’t let that happen. I prob sound like a smartass, but I’m honestly not, I just know him better than he knows himself. And that’s fair because he knows me better than anyone else, so he should have known I’m gonna give this my all and then some.

His wall is sky high, but the sky’s not the limit when there’s footsteps on the moon, so I’ll only fight harder. I sent him a package, just so he truly can know how I feel about him and not define everything in accordance to this mistake I made. I’m sincerely so sorry I ever made this mistake and I’ll do everything and anything to break down his walls and start getting him to be his big hearted fuzzy self. Anyways got a little off topic, I sent him a package with my whole heart in it and I know if he truly reads every letter and looks at everything with an open mind and with his whole heart he’ll know how I feel and how he feels about us. I’m really hoping he actually does look at it with a open heart because I will protect his heart with everything I’ve got. Each letter each picture each thing will show him not only how much I know him but how much he means to me and how much we mean to me. I’ve never put my heart on the line like this but I have this time because he’s the only person deserving of it.

If he gives me my Christmas miracle, then we’ll finally have our own little world, we have our own place to move into by December 15, we’ll have a doctors appointment to see if we’ll be welcoming a bundle of joy and we’ll have each other 24/7 which sounds absolutely perfect to me. I know it won’t be easy and I know there’s a lot I’m gonna have to put into us and work on but absolutely nothing else is worth it to me. I want to work my ass off to get his family to not only see that I make him happy, but to grow and love me. What’s important to you is important to me. Always. You’re worth everything to me Jonathan, and your heart makes me fall in love with you everyday.

Please don’t be afraid, don’t tell yourself you just don’t want it anymore because you’re afraid to invest time and effort into us. Approach it with an open mind and an open heart, because your hearts your best quality.

I love you Jonathan Eric Cervantes, always have, always will.

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i-am-very-very-tired · 4 years

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// Google search Lainey Gossip The Best Films of the Decade (2010s): Part II December 20, 2019 at 8:46 PM by Sarah Popstar: Never Stop Stopping and Moonlight movie posters 352741 For Part 1 of The Best Films of the Decade, please click here. The final half of the best films of the decade. As always, this list is alphabetical, not ranked. The Love Witch (2016) A film of singular artistic vision, The Love Witch is produced, written, directed, edited, AND scored by Anna Biller. Done in the style of early 1960s Technicolor films, and with nods to everything from exploitation cinema to Hitchcock, The Love Witch is critical examination of gender roles and the femme fatale trope. It is absolutely DIVINE to look at, but it will leave you with something to think about, too. The Lure (2015) The Eighties synth-pop cannibal mermaid musical you didn’t know you needed, The Lure reimagines The Little Mermaid as a cautionary tale for a world that preys on women, exploiting talent and sexuality for commercial gain. Honestly, this is the only live-action Little Mermaid we really need. MacGruber (2010) Will Forte (along with his writing partner John Solomon, and Jorma Taccone) turns his SNL character into an absurdist takedown of toxic masculinity, lampooning the kind of hyper-masculine patriotism and macho-worship that defined the conflict-ridden aughts. As America tired of endless war and bad men in the 2010s, though, MacGruber gained a devoted following, turning one of the decade’s biggest bombs into one of its biggest cult films. Mad Max: Fury Road (2015) One of the few things we can all agree on this decade is that Fury Road is AWESOME. One of the best crafted and executed films of the decade, with some of the coolest and most bonkers stunts, Fury Road is also a rare sequel that rethinks its own universe and updates its lore in meaningful, resonant ways. A beautiful action film, and a harrowing survival tale, Fury Road remains unsurpassed in its ambition and accomplishment. Moonlight (2016) A coming of age and coming out story, Moonlight is a sensitive portrait of queer black manhood that resonates with affection, romance, disappointment, joy, and an almost unbearably fragile feeling of hope. This film is so emotionally evocative it is almost impossible to describe, because it will touch every viewer in different ways, and hold such personal meaning for those who embrace Barry Jenkins’ multi-faceted storytelling style. Moonlight is one of the most powerfully affecting films of the decade. The Nice Guys (2016) A period piece that does not revel in nostalgia for its era, a buddy comedy about two guys who don’t really get along, and a father-daughter tale in which the daughter is more paternal than her dad, The Nice Guys is full of contradictions and escalating tension. Pound for pound one of the funniest films of the decade, it’s also a refreshing sleuth story where no one is a super genius Sherlock type. It’s just a good old-fashioned mystery with wit to spare. Paddington/Paddington 2 (2014/2017) The kindest, sweetest, most earnestly sincere family films of the decade, the Paddington films are also the only sequel pair so quality and thematically consistent they effectively register as one film. Paddington and Paddington 2 are also notable for their tremendous style and great comedy villains, particularly Hugh Grant’s definitive performance as Phoenix Buchanan. Parasite (2019) It feels like all of Bong Joon-ho’s work this decade built to Parasite, a complex class parable that considers how impossible it really is to climb the socio-economic ladder. In turns a horror, comedy, thriller, and family drama, Parasite is one of the most unique visions of the decade from a master filmmaker. Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping (2016) Like MacGruber, Popstar bombed upon release, only to immediately develop a cult following. A pitch-perfect satire of contemporary pop music and the music industry itself, Popstar is This Is Spinal Tap for a new generation. It also doesn’t hurt that all of the original songs are signature Lonely Islands bops, equal parts funny and catchy. Style Boyz for life! The Raid (2011) This is the reason every action movie and TV show this decade has a hallway fight. Arguably the most influential action movie of the decade, with direct influence on some of the decade’s biggest movies, including Captain America: The Winter Soldier, John Wick, and Star Wars: The Force Awakens, The Raid is single-handedly responsible for bringing back practical, hand-to-hand combat stunts in American action cinema. Shin Godzilla (2016) In the same decade that Hollywood struggled to understand Godzilla, Japan’s legendary Toho production house reinvented the kaiju for a new era of nuclear catastrophe. This Godzilla secretes radioactive waste and moves through cities like a tsunami wave, a clear allusion to the 2011 tsunami and ensuing Fukushima Daiichi reactor meltdown. Shin Godzilla also lampoons burdensome bureaucracy that is ill-equipped for fast-moving disaster, making it a sharp political satire as well. The Social Network (2010) David Fincher and Aaron Sorkin combine power to craft this loquacious but chilly drama about the founding of Facebook, one of the decade’s most influential media companies. This film stands the test of time less as a portrait of Mark Zuckerberg and more as a dire prediction for our future, in which social interactions happen online and a social media platform has the power to threaten democracy itself. The Social Network was originally dinged for inaccuracies about Zuckerberg, but it was scarily prescient about how Facebook would come to shape our world, for the worse. Sorry to Bother You (2018) Boots Riley blew the doors down with his debut film, crafting a scathing socio-political satire of racism and classism that is simultaneously funny and deeply upsetting. Riley pulls no punches in his multi-directional critique of corporate America, particularly how it exploits black excellence to maintain white supremacist ideals. This is a gonzo, bizarre, unforgettable film from one of the boldest new voices in America cinema this decade. Under the Skin (2013) A lonely film about what it is to be human, to be vulnerable, and the inherent unknowable nature of humanity, Under the Skin is film that evolves and shifts as we each apply our own understanding of ourselves to its blank-faced protagonist (a decade-best Scarlett Johansson). Chilly, abstract, and impenetrable, Jonathan Glazer gives us one of the most unique sci-fi visions of the decade. What We Do in the Shadows (2014) Just when you thought the mockumentary trend was dead, Taika Waititi and Jemaine Clement deliver a mockumentary about the undead so perfectly constructed it accounts for the endangerment of the cameramen. This is one of the funniest comedies of the decade, but it also sneaks in a poignant love story and is a rare celebration of healthy male friendship. Also, it is stuffed to the brim with jokes, every one of which works. There isn’t a bad line in this entire film. Young Adult (2011) Young Adult unspools like a sour jaw breaker, both bitter in taste and difficult to digest as Mavis (Charlize Theron as one the decade’s great anti-heroines) rampages through the lives of her former classmates, trying to relive her high school glory days. Equal parts funny and challenging, Young Adult examines the challenge and necessity of growing up and letting go. Tags: Movie Reviews and Previews , Top Reads Keri Russell and Matthew Rhys attend the Premiere of Disney's "Star Wars: The Rise Of Skywalker" on December 16, 2019 in Hollywood, California 352731 Outfits of the Week: Keri Russell Keri Russell wore the first Outfit of the Week we started doing almost two years ago. And since then December 20, 2019 at 7:53 PM by Lainey Zach Braff out in LA, December 18, 2019 352742 Celebrity Social Media, December 20, 2019 Jia Tolentino’s The Age of the Instagram Face is only a few weeks old, but it’s already a reference December 20, 2019 at 9:40 PM by Maria Related on LaineyGossip No Related Articles Need a Distraction? by TaboolaSponsored LinksYou May Like Bushmans River Mouth Woman Was Playing on This Free Slot Machine App, When All Of A Sudden She Won Big Download on the App Store | Neverland Casino South Africans Are Making A Fortune With Online Trading. Read How ThinkBig How South Africans Make A Fortune With Online Trading in 2019. Read Now homefinancetoday 4 Reasons To Invest Online! Convert Trading into Constant Income. Vici Marketing The Cost of Apartments for Sale in Dubai Might Totally Surprise You Apartments for Sale | Search Ads King Price Car Insurance Decreases Your Premium Each Month As Your Car Loses Value King Price Car Insurance Quotes Check Out How Much Stair Lifts Actually Cost Stair Lift | Search Ads Here's What Auto Insurance Should Cost in Bushmans River Mouth Auto Insurance | Search Ads ContactTermsPrivacyCookiesArchivesFAQsPressPartnersView Desktop SiteCookie Settings © Copyright 2004-2020, Lainey Gossip Entertainment Inc.

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spryfilm · 6 years

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“Unsane” (2018)

Drama/Thriller

Running Time: 98 minutes

Written by: Jonathan Bernstein & James Greer

Directed by: Steven Soderbergh

Featuring: Claire Foy, Joshua Leonard, Jay Pharoah, Juno Temple, Aimee Mullins, and Amy Irving

Sawyer Valentini: “I’m not fucking crazy!”

Steven Soderbergh is back with a new movie, released this week on DVD and Blu-ray only five years after he famously said he would not direct any more film’s, to focus on other endeavours. Those endeavours turned out to be a television show “The Knick” (2014-2016), ending after two seasons, so it was not long before he was back behind the camera with the excellent heist comedy movie “Logan Lucky” (2017) which was a small box office success but more importantly it was a critical success with the promise of more to come. Much like a previous Soderbergh film, the underrated “Side Effects” (2013) which commented not only on the medical community but drugs in general, this new movie does something similar but with more of the thriller genre overlayed as well as being set in one main location, it still does inform the audience on how quickly someone’s life can change when many of their choices are removed, in a most insidious way. This is what Soderbergh does so well, which shows in all his best films, even when critics and audiences misunderstand some of those films the first time around. That’s why its refreshing to see Soderbergh get behind a movie that is a thriller built around social commentary, as well as making a point to the rest of Hollywood, by directing a movie with a micro budget that is released in cinemas worldwide, he is a director that is always bucking the system one way or another.

“Unsane” is co-written by Jonathan Bernstein & James Greer who have come up with what could be seen as a perfect low budget thriller with an inside look at not only mental illness but the perceived reaction to mental illness as well as the medical insurance industry, and ways in which the medical community is not about caring but about cash flow, that it seems administrators are in charge of patient care, not the medical establishment themselves. This script is such a step up for the duo, who after creating pretty bland broad comedies that have not resonated, they now they have something that is not only heavy hitting, but makes a comment in a way they have never done before, of course there is the fact that Steven Soderbergh is behind the movie which is a huge asset. The only thing better than seeing a Soderbergh film, is seeing one with a micro budget, it pushes the director as well as streamlines the narrative in a way that is not done in Hollywood movies. The other thing that is a positive is that the lower the budget the more of the director’s vision is seen, and with a Soderbergh movie he really is the driving force as not only director, but also as cinematographer, editor and producer. There is no other director working today who does what Soderbergh does, not only that but he is still in his prime as a director with I believe his best work is yet to come even though he has had an amazing career so far.

“Unsane” is based around Sawyer Valentini, a troubled woman who moves away from home to escape a stalker. Sawyer finds she is still triggered by interactions with men to her memories of her stalker. She makes an appointment with a counselor at Highland Creek Behavioral Center. At her appointment, she unknowingly signs a release voluntarily committing herself to spend 24 hours there. She calls the police but they do nothing when they see the signed release. After physical altercations with a patient and a staff member, Dr. Hawthorne says she is being kept for seven more days.

This movie has a very special central performance by the lead Claire Foy who is known for her television role in “The Crown” (2016-2017) but who has been making movies as well as other television projects for a number of years, but now with such a high profile in the US as well as around the world is now trying to distance herself from her breakout role by taking very different parts. In “Unsane” Foy has to play a character on many different levels as well as take a role like few seen in cinema before, she is a victim in her own story who has to accept her fate, while at the same time becoming the hero in her own story all the while balancing her fragile mindset, we as the audience actually forget why she was seeking help in the first place, that is until the very end which is masterfully directed as well as acted.

There are other acting highlights within the movie, the highlights of which are the criminally underused Amy Irving as the mother who while having limited screen time defies what could have been a trope laden character and shows why she was such a presence in American cinema. The other two performances of note are Jay Pharoah and Juno Temple as fellow inmates who both play very different roles in the movie but are both excellent character actors that interact with their surroundings uniquely especially for a movie like this that has very honestly motivated characters, there are no twists what you see with each one is what you get.

This is primarily a thriller about a person stuck in one location being held against her will but in a strange turn of events, legally which is a dichotomy that she has to solve. Thrown into the mix are another few elements which I will not spoil but do not disappoint at all, in fact the audience is held in a state of tension for almost the entire movie which is something to behold, Soderbergh playing Hitchcock in his own way, exploring a genre that he has not really visited before which is again extremely refreshing especially for a director of his stature.

The final thing to say is the look of this movie is almost unique amoung cinema releases with some very explicit lighting within the asylum which is juxtaposed to the lighting on the outside, with almost an overexposed look versus a look straight out of a paranoid horror movie. Soderbergh has once again set himself up as his own cinematographer, utilising an iPhone 7 to shoot this project which does look incredible just as it should with a signature of low angles that take advantage of long hallways as well as using deep focus in some cases to make the movie look ‘bigger’ than it actually is.

“Unsane” is one of those rare movies that because of the performances, the story and the production talent really does hold up under repeat viewings on either DVD or Blu-ray but I would suggest the latter as the lighting really plays a large part which a clearer picture picks up a lot better in terms of quality.

“Unsane” is out now on DVD & Blu-ray.

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DVD/Blu-ray review: “Unsane” (2018) "Unsane" (2018) Drama/Thriller Running Time: 98 minutes Written by: Jonathan Bernstein & James Greer Directed by: Steven Soderbergh…

#Aimee Mullins #Amy Irving #blu-ray #bluray review #bluray reviews #Claire Foy #dvd #dvd review #DVD reviews #DVDReviews #Jay Pharoah #Joshua Leonard #Juno Temple #unsane #unsane bluray #unsane bluray review #unsane dvd #unsane dvd review #unsane review

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thesinglesjukebox · 6 years

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THUNDERCAT FT. KENNY LOGGINS & MICHAEL MCDONALD - SHOW YOU THE WAY [6.62] We got somethin' to say about yacht rock, yes we do...

Thomas Inskeep: Thundercat's a weirdo. I mean, his resume is beyond ridiculous: the much-sought-after bassist has played with Suicidal Tendencies, received a Grammy for his work with Kendrick Lamar, and is a crucial part of new jazz great Kamasi Washington's posse. So how does he lead off his third full-length, this year's Drunk? With a Yacht Rock dream single (especially in 2017) featuring lyrical and vocal contributions from the twin titans of yacht, Kenny Loggins and Michael McDonald, both of whose voices still sound like creamy perfection. And this isn't Yacht Rock just because of Loggins and McDonald, either; Thundercat is an avowed yacht fanatic who reached out to the guys and asked them to collaborate with him, not to just sing on his record. The Yacht Rock guys -- meaning, the four guys who invented the term via their web series a decade ago -- gave "Show You the Way" a 66.0 on their Yachtski scale earlier this year. I'd go even higher: as a Yacht Rock single, I think this is at least a 75, maybe even close to an 80. (Modern yacht is tough.) This is smooth, this is soulful, this has the Voice of God (a/k/a McDonald) on it, and Thundercat's not fucking around; he's utterly sincere. "Show You the Way" dropped in January, and it's been one of my favorite songs all year long. [10]

Julian Axelrod: Thundercat is not fucking with you. Yes, he's a bass virtuoso who sings odes to his cat in a boyish falsetto. Yes, he collaborates with Kenny Loggins and Michael McDonald. Yes, he uses this outro to warn listeners to drink water while they're raging. But this song would be unlistenable if it weren't so achingly sincere. Thundercat doesn't bring in these forgotten icons for an ironic deconstruction of their public persona. He works with Loggins and McDonald because he fucking loves yacht rock, and you hear that love in every bass line, harmony and keyboard squeal. And the lyrics, a tender testimony to the healing power of compassion, are similarly starry-eyed. But when it's all so expertly executed, you can't help but fall under his spell. Thundercat is not fucking with you, but he's also not fucking around. [8]

Maxwell Cavaseno: As the Brainfeeder crew appeared to have spiraled out of the land of instrumental hip-hop into a dimension of quasi-"black prog" to succeed where the Sa-Ra axis failed to be recognized, likewise we find them beginning the strange transition away from freeform muso-experiments into a sophisticate's MOR. So the seemingly "random" aspect of someone like Thundercat grabbing Loggins & McDonald is actually quite predictable; in fact I'm surprised he didn't get Bernard Purdie on it, or get the remaining Brecker brother to do a solo. Nonetheless, the pared down approach for Thundercat is still a surprising home for him that the more he slips into, the better he sounds. [7]

Nortey Dowuona: Feels soft and inviting. Soft, pillowy synths softly sink around the twisting horn of the bass and the muffle thump of the loose, light drums as McDonald swirls around it, Loggins tiptoes up on it and Thundercat lets himself get pulled along with it. [8]

Tim de Reuse: Thundercat cleans his usual shtick of all the usual clutter and wah-effect resonance, even scaling back significantly on his virtuosic bass noodling. What's left is sincere, smooth eighties schlock in slightly more modern trappings, buoyed by a team-up that I couldn't have predicted but that still makes a kind of cosmic sense. This song is proof of Thundercat's chops as a songwriter, and the chorus contains one of the best melodies he's ever written, but the whole composition isn't terribly distinctive as an example of his style; a lovely single, but one that isn't nearly as interesting as it could've been given the people involved. [7]

Ian Mathers: With a potentially gimmicky guest list and a genuinely excellent video (especially if you go back and watch "Them Changes" again first), it'd be easy to overlook the actual substance of "Show You the Way." But honestly, even though Loggins and McDonald are clearly still up to the task of being smooth as hell and low-key but effectively empathetic, his verse shows that Thundercat could have handled this one on his own if he needed to. It's downright lush, like the emotional inverse of a good Steely Dan track. [8]

Alfred Soto: So long as these old beards sing through their face hair over "Minute by Minute" electric pianos "Show You the Way" does for seventies nostalgia what "Get Lucky" was supposed to. As it is, I prefer faster, disco-ier pastiches: Holy Ghost!'s "Some Children," Michael McDonald's own "Sweet Freedom." [6]

Brad Shoup: Vocally, Thundercat's outclassing his heroes, which you can credit to their age or his giving himself all the intense imagery. Still, when he drags Loggins through shallow water, or introduces each guest, or talks about hydration, you wonder if his yacht's run aground on The Lonely Island. [5]

Katherine St Asaph: There is no number high enough to count the Faustian bargains I would make to never again be told, usually by a man, to care about or canonize -- of all the music of the '70s and '80s! -- the limpid, diarrheically oily, sweaty-polyester-scented, sub-porn-music, unctuously synth padded, near-exclusively and incredibly male bullshit that is yacht rock. [1]

Jonathan Bradley: Where languid becomes flaccid. [3]

Cassy Gress: 70s smooth rock through a shimmery kaleidoscope. Sounds sort of like the feeling of when you tip your chair back too far and start falling, stretched out into four weightless minutes. [7]

Julian de Valliere: I read a genuinely lovely tweet about sex a few days ago. It read, "The most damaging reality warp of porn is that porn acts like sex is SERIOUS when the best sex involves lots of laughs, giggles, teasing, chatting, and playing around to get things right for everyone." I thought back to this while listening to "Show You the Way," because Thundercat seems to subscribe to that same belief. "Show You the Way" is unafraid of being earnest, and sensual, and playful -- all at the same time. These characteristics are best displayed in Thundercat's parting words, when he reminds you to bring a bottle of water with your vodka. Sure, he wants you to have a good time right now, but he'd also really like you to stick around for a while after. [8]

Rebecca A. Gowns: The recorded single is good in a mystifying kind of way. After listening to it, I click through to a live version of this song, which is even more mystifying. Thundercat could have performed this with a wink, but instead, he presents it with 100% reverence of Loggins and McDonald. On his own, McDonald, plonking away at the keyboard with white hair, hand up to his ear to nail the harmony, looks like any other older man performing with his weekend band at a coffee shop. Loggins looks like he's performing his favorite deep cut at karaoke night. Thundercat looks like he's jamming in his garage on a sleepy Saturday morning. But the looks that they all give each other have a passionate energy -- each one of them nodding and egging on the other two, encouraging each other to solo and riff and keep those vocals going. This isn't Thundercat featuring yacht rock samples as a joke. This is Thundercat featuring two musicians he admires greatly, and, it must be said, the feeling appears to be mutual. [8]

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#Thundercat #Kenny Loggins #Michael McDonald

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