movies of a lifetime

New Year’s Day

anon prompt- owen and amelia had a new years eve party and owen is really hungover on new years day, amelia takes care of him

“I want to skydive, and— and swim with sharks, oh! And bungee jump, obviously,” Owen began rambling. “How about you make your New Year’s resolutions list when you’re sober, yeah?” Amelia laughed. Owen nodded as he threw his head back against couch. 

The two had been sitting on the living room floor for an hour watching a cheesy Lifetime movie. It was three in the morning and all the guests had left hours earlier. Amelia did her best to keep an eye on Owen all night, knowing how clumsy he gets when he drinks. 

As he reached for the glass of alcohol on the table, Amelia stopped him. “I’m cutting you off,” she said, “I don’t want to start my new year cleaning up your vomit.”

Owen looked over and stared at Amelia. “What?” She asked. “I love your face,” he replied. “You’re so drunk, O.”

“Drunk I am not,” Owen closed his eyes. “Let’s get you to bed,” Amelia offered as she began to stand up.

“Nooooo,” Owen groaned, “I want to stay here.”

“On the floor?” Amelia asked. “Yup,” Owen nodded. “At least sleep on the couch,” she offered. “I like the floor,” he protested, “It’s nice and welcoming.”

Amelia shook her head as she gathered the pillows and a blanket from off the couch, placing them on the floor. She went to the kitchen and grabbed a water bottle and a bucket from under the sink. “Amelia,” Owen said.

“What?” Amelia set the water and bucket on the floor beside him. “Does playing Mario Cart drunk count as drunk driving?”

“Go to bed,” Amelia laughed. Owen laid down on the floor and Amelia placed him in the recovery position. She sat on the chair across from him and watched as he fell asleep, in fear that he would choke on his own vomit.


“Mia,” Owen whispered, loudly. “Mia,” he repeated. Amelia woke up from her spot on the chair and looked at her husband. “You okay?” She asked.

“Is Taco Bell open 24 hours?” Owen asked, still doing his best to whisper but was basically shouting. “We are not going to Taco Bell, Owen,” Amelia said, looking at her phone, “It’s 4:30 in the morning.”

“Can we go tomorrow? Please?” Owen pouted his lips like that of a 4 year old begging for candy. “We can go tomorrow,” Amelia confirmed, “Go back to sleep.”

“But I can’t find any sheep,” Owen whispered. “Sheep?” Amelia asked.

“I can’t find any sheep to count,” he said. 


Owen woke up at three in the afternoon. Amelia had been awake since eight, quietly cleaning up the bottles and trash from the night before. 

“I thought you were dead,” Amelia laughed, seeing Owen sit up. “I feel dead,” he groaned as he stood up. He stumbled, and Amelia rushed over to his side. 

“Easy there,” she said, putting her arm around his waist. Owen instantly put his hand up to his head and shut his eyes closed, grimacing. 

“Advil?” She asked, sitting him down on the couch. “Please,” he replied. “Do you still want Taco Bell?” Amelia smiled. 

“Taco Bell?” Owen questioned. “You said you wanted Taco Bell last night,” she informed.

“I’m not drunk enough for Taco Bell right now.”

Obscure-ish Ways to Charge Spells (Mostly Crystals)
  • Hold onto your crystals, spell jar, or other bit of witchery while watching a film that riles you up emotionally. (personally, I find Lifetime movies to be perfect for this)
  • If you’re one of those people who meditate before bed (and, like me, fall asleep promptly afterwards), either hold onto your crystals in your palms or keep them in your pajama pockets.
  • If you work retail (or any other similarly aggravating job), carry or wear a crystal around your neck and focus all your annoyance into it instead of getting fed up. It cooks up a solid frenzy of energy, perfect for a small hex, curse, or otherwise petty spell.
  • Sing to your spell.
  • Scream. Just fucking scream at your fucking rocks.
  • friend: have you seen the new spider-man movie?
  • inner me: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017) has a 93% on Rotten Tomatoes and is a part of Phase Three of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Spider-Man: Homecoming was directed by Jon Watts and stars Tom Holland, Michael Keaton, Zendaya, Robert Downey Junior, Marisa Tomei, and many more lovely actors and actresses, especially many actors and actresses of color, which have not had a fair amount of exposure in Marvel films. It has a run-time of 133 minutes and despite being the sixth Spider-Man movie in recent times and the third reboot, it competes with Spider-Man (2002) for the best Spider-Man movie. It is also unique in the fact that it is the first Spider-Man movie that Marvel shares the rights to, instead of it being created only by Sony Pictures. It is based off the comics by Stan Lee and Steve Ditko, the former of which makes a cameo in the movie. It currently has a domestic box office total of $280+ million dollars and $640+ million dollars worldwide, making it the top grossing Spider-Man movie since Spider-Man (2002) starring Tobey McGuire, which made a lifetime gross of only about $404 million dollars.
  • me: yeah i've seen it, it's pretty good i guess
10

SHIPS MEME:
‘a ship from a book’
↳ Cathy & Chris (The Dollanganger Series)

Angel, saint, devil’s spawn, good or evil, you’ve got me pinned to the wall and labeled as yours until the day I die. And if you die first, then it won’t be long before I follow. 

Don’t Tell Me This Wasn’t Intentional

So going back and taking another look at things, with the idea of parallels in mind, I can’t help but think this sequence of shots was done purposefully to evoke a similar reaction from the viewer. Now I am not a film student or expert of any kind, just someone who has watched enough TV/movies in her lifetime to recognize things like this. And once you can pick these things out of what you’re watching, I think it helps you as a viewer.

Originally I did wonder why Mike briefly looked–alarmed? sad?–after HE encouraged Will to go dance with random girl, and I wondered if maybe it was just a bizarre acting choice that should have been cut, or a different take used, because it initially confused the hell out of me like “what am I supposed to be feeling from THAT reaction?”, or if I was just misinterpreting it totally.

Well, I knew what I felt, but I wasn’t sure if that reaction provoked was intended. Now I totally feel like, yep, it was.

Observe the lovely. Parallels going on in this scene and ignore my crappy screencaps from my phone.

So Lucas takes Max out to dance. Awww aren’t they sweet? I am kinda loving that Lucas got the girl. Adorable little nuggets.

Then we immediately get a shot of poor Dustin looking out at them, forlorn. Poor Dustin. Don’t worry, one day your princess (or Prince, don’t limit yourself!) will come.

And now is when things get interesting. Because right after this the random girl asks “zombie boy” to dance, Will freaks out and looks to Mike like “Do I have to!?!?” and Mike encourages him nonverbally, like twice, to dance with her.

And as soon as Will leaves to dance with random girl we get this reaction shot.

And this is what confused the hell out of me. Why does he look so….THAT….when he pushed Will to go dance? Shouldn’t he be happy? Smiling? Smug supportive bestie so happy his bestie gets to dance with a cute girl? 

Then we cut to this shot.

Waaaait a minute. This is all so….familiar….somehow….if only I could put my finger on why this all seems set up and filmed in such a similar fashion then maaaaybe I could figure out just what emotion they were going for there with Mike’s reaction and….

And then they cut to Mike and Dustin both staring sadly out on to the dance floor. Dustin all staring and sad because, well, he lost the girl he liked to his friend and he’s heartbroken, and Mike staring sadly because….well…uhhhh….because….ummm.


Oh. OH.


Well shit. 


Now I get Mike’s reaction face. It all makes perfect sense. I mean, I guess there *could* be other interpretations, but if so, once again the old argument arises, why direct and shoot and edit this scene like that? Because everything that just transpired was laid out in such a fashion that, if you’re paying attention, tells you what’s going on and what you should be feeling. It was shot to make you feel like you were not only watching one love triangle play out, but TWO. Well done.

Parallels delicious parallels *twirls* 

I’m ready for the inevitable Lifetime movie called Fyre Island where rich white kids do talking head interviews and they have Instagram models giving their testimony too but they do the voice changer and put them in a shadow and theres the dramatic reenactment following a guy named Chad fighting dogs and stuff and the token “I sold my kidney to come here and went bankrupt” character to solicit empathy for everyone

The Lego Batman Movie Sentence Starters

“DC. The house that Batman built.”
“Get yourself ready for some…reading.”
“Batman is very wise.”
“Yeah, I’ve got an extra ab.”
“We are transporting 11 million sticks of dynamite, 17,000 pounds of C4, about 150 little cute little classic bomb-type bombs, and two best friends, and request permission to fly over the most crime-ridden city in the world!”
“I’m a loser at home, and I’m a loser at work.”
“You should be terrified.”
“All the C-grade villains have broken into the energy plant!”
“Dear gosh, you destroyed the ___! You have thought of everything!”
“I just wrote a song about how I’m gonna kick all of your butts.”
“Get it together, guys, you’re making me look bad in front of Batman!”
“Save the city or catch your greatest enemy.”
“You think you’re my greatest enemy?”
“I like to fight around.”
“I’m okay with you fighting other people.”
“Remember, kids: If you wanna be like Batman, take care of your abs.”
“Were you looking at the old family pictures again?”
“I don’t talk about feelings.”
“Your greatest fear is being a part of a family again.”
“Tuxedo dress up party!”
“How am I supposed to get ___’s respect when I’m working with these human farts?”
“I’m just so jazzed to meet you!”
“I hate everything you just said.”
“You won’t get to fight any of this anymore.”
“Riddle me this: …what just happened?”
“There are no more vigilantes allowed.”
“You need to take responsibility for your life.”
“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Hello secret camera!”
“You’ve been watching too many Lifetime movies and drinking chardonnay.”
“Chance of failure is 110%.”
“Sometimes to right a wrong, you have to wrong right.”
“How dare you tell me how to parent my kid I just met.”
“Life doesn’t give you seatbelts!”
“I’m trying to give you a big old hug.”
“What’s the vigilante position on cookies?”
“It’s weirder if it’s not your son…”
“Somebody get this man some pants.”
“You can’t be a hero if you only care about yourself.”
“I got thrown in this heckhole on purpose!”
“I’m gonna go start looting.”
“Ask your nerd friends.”
“Who’s the greatest villain of them all now?!”
“I’m rubbing my butt all over your stuff.”
“Rename this the buttmobile.”
“Do you ever get scared?”
“This is not a family trip.”
“It’s 100% lava.”
“Why did you build this thing only one seat?”
“Last I checked I only had one butt.”
“For a loner, you sure like movies about relationships.”
“Good news, our bathroom problem is solved.”
“We are just one big happy f…raternity of people.”
“I don’t need friends.”
“I swear I’m a good guy.”
“I was trying to protect them…”
“Are they really the ones you’re protecting?”
“Don’t do what I would do!”
“You’ve gotta let me go down there and save them!”
“I don’t even know why you bothered coming back.”
“…I was afraid.”
“I was afraid of feeling the pain you feel when you lose someone close to you.”
“Saving this city is too big a job for one person.”
“Who’s laying down those funky beats?”
“Okay, ___. Bring the pain.”
“As I predicted, we’re doomed!”
“You had me at shut up.”
“How are your abs, bro?”
“Sometimes losing people is part of life, but that doesn’t mean you stop letting them in.”
“This is my family. But it’s your family too.”
“Do you have a knife? Because someone needs to cut the tension between us.”

I know you want to be thin.
I know the cork board of your thoughts is tacked full of nothing but numbers and magazine girls.
I know you are at a point of calling this dedication.

I know that assessing the circumference of your wrist with opposite hand is a calculation you aren’t even aware of making half the time.
I know you have a million conversions and equations and numerical values all memorized in your head.
I know you’ve never hated anything more than you hate math.

I know you spend your days sipping on coffee, always black, in pathetic attempt to feel something comparable to fueled.
I know you are always either sweating or shivering,
You are always moving, always burning
And malnourishment means you are the only one in this room who feels cold.

I know you see the galaxy every time you stand up.
I know you think it’s romantic to see the stars through dark clouds,
But really, it’s not.
The cosmos is still far away as ever.
This is just you
Failing your body.

I know you are unhappy.
I know that existing in this state is not as exciting as all the poetry and lifetime movies would have you believe.
I know the boring.
I know the sitting in a chair for hours on end adding up calorie contents.
Repeatedly.
I know the repetition, the monotony,
The drab days and days of ritualistic movements
Checking and rechecking.
I know this all feels so empty and
What else would you expect?
You have not allowed yourself to feel full
In so very long.

When you look back at this time in your life, you will not see any sort of grand epic, no chaos
All you will see on this timeline is
White space.
Blankness.
Life put on hold for these months, these years spent sick.

I know that despite your discontent, you still feel starvation is a necessity.
I know that taking care of yourself hurts anymore.

I know you drool over pictures of rib cages
Forgetting that there is a heart underneath
And that it is beating far too slowly.

I know you dream of being small the way you should be dreaming of your future,
But don’t you know, that pretty body will kill you,
That once you do achieve that perfectly flat stomach, your health will have already been long destroyed,
That your heart may stop altogether right around the time your hip bones really begin to look defined.

I know you will find yourself crying wondering where everything went wrong.
You will curse yourself for becoming this way.
You will feel jealous of every person’s rut that isn’t deadly
And every person’s body that is somehow both thin and healthy.
It will hit you that your body could never be thin AND healthy and you’re going to be very angry,
Both at your body and at the world
For having you believe that the women on tv were the epitome of health,
That your health could never look like that.

You’re going to feel stupid because of how many of the Anorexic Bimbo jokes that apply to you now,
You will be having a panic attack thinking about the possible ingredients in a restaurant’s bread rolls and it will hit you as the stupidest thing to be so damn worried about.
Still, you will not be able to turn the fear off so easily.

You will feel out of control realizing how you only feel in control when you’re losing weight.
You’ll wonder why the hell weight loss is so admired as the strongest thing a person can do because you feel nothing but weak, weak, weak.
You will feel stuck.

You will try to eat normally again.
You will probably fuck up.
You will wonder where all that so-called willpower is now that it’s health you’re aiming for over sickness.
You’ll realize it was never the amount of willpower you possessed that made the pounds fall right off,
But the amount of self hatred.

You will eat and your thoughts will scream at you so loud you stop again.
You will have a constant fear of not ever being able to get past this.
You’ll hear about people who have dealt with your disorder for decades and you’ll wonder how they’re not dead yet and ponder on whether surviving this for twenty years would be better or worse than having it kill you after three.

You will be sure of absolutely nothing when everything solid comes tumbling down.
Your first instinct will be to stand everything back up
Nice and tidy
When really it should be to find some new solidity altogether.
After all, these fallen walls are the same ones that landed you here at all
And I know you just want to be as far away from this place as possible.

When your bae asks if you remember the first kiss you had, but you’ve lived multiple lifetimes and lost your memory more times than the lead character in a LifeTime movie, and you’re not sure which first kiss she’s talking about, so you try to make your giant-ass six foot tall self seem reallllly small so maaayyyyybeee she’ll forget about it. (SHE DEFINITELY DOESN’T) #sailormoonprobs

{PART 9} I Won’t Stop You // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Originally posted by jengkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut

Summary; Jungkook takes you shopping and you inadvertently give him a lesson on just how cruel humans can be to each other.

{Part 1} // {Part 8} {Part 9} {Part 10}

I update this series every Tuesday evening, 9pm-10pm (UK Time)

Keep reading

Punk (Chap. 1)

Originally posted by in-perfectenschlag

Summary: You’re head over heels for your best friend Bucky and hate the nickname he gave you as it doesn’t exactly scream romance.

Word count: 1871

Warnings: Cursing, low-self esteem, chubby!reader x bucky, idk….

A/N:  So this is what I work on when I get blocked writing Nobody.  It’s supposed to be angsty and funny and fluffy (maybe a tad naughty at some point idk).  I hope you enjoy the first part!



“Morning, sunshine,” Tony greeted you as you slogged into the kitchen with a scowl.  Your (Y/H/C) was sticking up in random, knotted directions from tossing and turning all night, and dark bags hung under your puffy (Y/E/C) eyes.  

“Uhnnngg,” you groaned as you poured yourself a sizeable cup of coffee.  Tony was one of those ‘happy morning people’.  You hated him.  And his stupid face.  But his coffee was good so you let him live.

Keep reading

Dreams- Connor Murphy x Reader w/ smut

A/N: Hello everyone! This is a piece of writing I’m pretty proud of, but as always please give me feedback! I’m sorry I haven’t been posting as much, I’ve been going through some stuff but I feel a lot better. Love you all!-Ella
Requested: Yes, or at least some Connor smut was
Words: basically 4k
Warnings: Suicide talk, swearing, mild smut
Summary: Connor and reader meet at a treatment center and bond

Whatever the usual way of meeting somebody you love is, how you two met wasn’t it. Fluorescent lighting, and feet covered by thin socks is how you met with the tracking of every move. You ended up there in the usual way, and so did he, so maybe that’s the small bit of normal you two share.
“Greenway’s Premier Adolescent Treatment Center.” That’s where you met him. You were both in for swallowing a deadly, but obviously not deadly enough amount of pills. This is the place where you go after your 72 hour hold is up and your doctors won’t send you home. Saying it was any better than those 72 hours would be a bold faced lie, or really just for the first few days. Everything you did was tracked, or at least in the unit you were in, “The Intensive Watch Unit”.
The secluded residential treatment center housed and treated teens with a variety of problems, some even a year into their stay, while others left after a month. You were in the unit for those who weren’t trusted to be in the more stable units. Just like at the hospital your shoes were taken and replaced with rough socks, your body was scanned for any old or new marks, and you were asked any and every question imaginable.

Two weeks. That’s how long you’ve been on the now dubbed “suicide floor,” a floor for those who can’t go to the bathroom alone because you might kill yourself instead of peeing. The routine of it all slowly settled in for you. Wake up. Make bed. Eat. Meds. Shower. Group therapy. Art therapy and it goes on and on. You liked the routine that had come about for you; it was comforting to know that at 11am you would draw, and that the same nurses would help you with your worksheet from group. Your doctor even told you that he believed that in another week or two, if you kept on track you would move to the ‘not so suicidal floor’. Well, he called it the “The Learning Unit.” You wouldn’t admit it, but you were proud that soon you could move up a level after seeing people spend only two or three nights in the unit. On the other hand you didn’t admit much. You stuffed and stuffed everything you felt until, BAM, you were swallowing as many pills as you could find until you woke up in the hospital, sobbing how you were mad for not killing yourself better. Looking back you thought that sounded like an oxymoron. Perfectionist at its finest, or lowest depending on your point of view.

When somebody new enters the “death please come knocking unit,” you don’t meet them until lunch time. Everybody who arrives at the center is escorted by parents, or guardians, at 7am sharp. They are toured while everyone is in therapy and then meet one on one with a doctor while someone else talks to whoever brought them. Then at the end of lunch they are brought in and introduced with enough time to makes small talk before entering another group therapy session. New people usually arrived once a week and it usually excited people, but it didn’t for you. Why get excited that someone else is also kind of fucked up in some way?


The day he showed up was like every day you’d been at Greenway. Everyone sat at a round table together that was in the middle of the unit floor. Your whole unit was basically one giant room with doors to other rooms for therapy, staff, bunks, and some that were locked. You remembered from your tour that other floors had dining rooms, and was open, but where you were wasn’t that.


He was brought in by a nurse, and everyone turned to look. He was tall and sort of lanky, but seemed strong. His light brown hair was behind his ears, and the look on his face reminded you of a pug trying to seem like a wolf. He sat down a few seats away from you next to a boy, Shane, who had arrived two days earlier.


“So what’s your name?” girlssomeone asked taking a bite of a cookie.


“Connor,” he spoke. His voice was stronger than you imagined. The other person took a response to their question to allow them to go on and on about some TV show you had never watched.

After lunch came group therapy, again. Connor followed behind the ten people on the unit, including yourself, into a room with chairs in a circle and inspiring posters on the wall.
“Welcome to group everyone. For those who can’t remember, my name is Ms. Lowe and I run group therapy for all of you during the afternoon.”  Ms. Lowe was nice, but tough when she needed to be. Everyone meets her since she conducts the interview you go through before entering the unit.
“Y/n,” at the sound of your name your head snapped in the direction of Ms. Lowe, “Since you have been here longer than most, would you mind showing our new member, Connor, how we start every group?”
“Okay, well I’m y/n and I’m here for trying to kill myself. I have been on this unit for two and a half weeks, and my goal for today is to talk more openly.” For the rest of the group you allowed yourself to zone into a place of dreams. You imagined everything that life would be if you weren’t the way you were, and everything life could offer for someone like you if you were happier. At school you weren’t the popular person, but you were nice and people liked you. You had boyfriends, and first times of everything you would expect for someone in high school, but somehow you felt like you were dying.

Quiet time was an hour a day where you could nap, talk to people, play games, but everybody napped. It seemed like an unwritten rule that everybody would climb into their bed that felt like a rock and try to sleep. You usually followed that, but sometimes you would sit on the seats in the common area and read. The variety of books was depressing, which was ironic for the unit, so you had your parents bring you books from home. When you brought yourself to the seats you were painfully aware that you weren’t alone. Connor, the new guy was sitting on the couch. New people on the unit usually annoyed you. They were so closed off, even more than you, or they were played into the depression like a lifetime movie. You like honesty, or being blunt about it all, what was the point of trying to hide any of it?
“Hey,” the voice of Connor brought you from the rant that was playing in your mind.
“Oh, hey,” you said sitting down on the opposite end of the couch and letting the variety of books fall into the space between you. His eyes grew wide looking at all the books.
“I can move them if you want”
“It’s fine. How did you get all these? The books here are all shit,” he said pointing to the bookshelf. The declaration from Connor made you laugh. The noise was a surprise to both of you.
“What do you mean? You don’t like ‘How to stop sadness’? Come on, that’s a masterpiece.”
“Totally. That’s on my top ten favorite books of all time.” This time Connor let out a small chuckle.
“You can borrow one of my books. I have way too many. When I asked my parents to bring me enough books to last my time in ‘Suicide daycare’ I didn’t expect this many. I guess that shows how much they believe in me.”
“Suicide daycare?”
“You know, we’re on the unit where they make sure we don’t kill ourselves. Suicide daycare.”
“Honest. I like that.”
“Thanks, I’ll be here all week, or more, you never know.”

Connor wasn’t as bad as you thought, hell he was probably your favorite out of the other patients. He was actually nice and didn’t try to dig into you to find everything wrong with you. Instead you started reading next to each other and would partner up during projects. For Sunday’s group you all had to find a partner and talk about your hopes and dreams. Seems simple enough, right? You and Connor partnered and sat in the corner of the room on the floor facing each other. You had partially been checked out of groups for a while since tomorrow you got to move to the level up. Finally you would get to have some freedom and would get to shower in privacy.
“So y/n what are your hopes and dreams,” Connor said smirking. Connor would also get to move up a level. He had actually been going along with the program well and had an undeniable strength.
“Ha-ha Connor,” you spoke with sarcasm dripping from your voice, “You first if you want to know all my innermost hopes and dreams.”
“Real talk, or not?” he said. This had become something between you.
“Let’s go with real talk for once.”
“I want to make it out of here soon and graduate. I have no fucking idea what I’ll do after that, but leaving here and making it through high school seems like a good place to start.” These words didn’t surprise you; Connor had something pushing him inside. In group once he said that he was going to try to live for his mom. She had sat by his hospital bed and begged him to try, saying if he died part of her would. Maybe she started him on this, but you thought somewhere inside he wanted to live, even if it was almost nothing, part of him did.
“Your turn y/n,” Connor said.
“I don’t know if I have any. I don’t mean that in the way of I can’t picture a future, because I can, but it doesn’t seem like something to dream of. Why jinx the fact that for the moment I can picture life. Now that’s a miracle, so I’ll just sit with the fact that I’m okay with living.”
“How do you manage to even make that seem dark?”
“I learned from the best. I mean you taught me so why not put it to use.”
“Hey! I didn’t teach you that, if anything you just speak like Edgar fucking Allen Poe.”
“I didn’t know fucking part of his name,” you said smiling.  A grin spread across Connor’s face, something that might have seemed unnatural at first, but now it fit perfectly.

Moving day. Well you were moving from ‘If you kill yourself here your parents will be so pissed’, to ‘Okay so they aren’t as depressed unit’. This unit wasn’t just one giant room with smaller rooms, but two floors, with 20 teens. There was a cafeteria, a school room, and all the nurses and doctors didn’t watch you as intensely. You would be on these floors for the rest of your stay, but you could move up levels, and earn rewards. When you arrived you were handed a schedule. Damn this place did know you. You only had two hours of school a day, then a bunch of therapy, and free time where you could join in on activities that were optional, or just hang out. Still you weren’t allowed to have shoes yet. You would have to move up a level. Connor on the other hand was allowed to have shoes. That made you annoyed and made Connor laugh.

With all of this new free time you and Connor got to hang out more. You spent your afternoons reading and talking. Sometimes he would read to you short stories that he wrote and you would draw for him. When there was group family therapy you heard stories about how he was horribly mean, but he seemed so different than that. Of course medicine and the right therapy will do that, but sometimes he would get mad. He would yell when he didn’t feel heard, but it didn’t freak you out. Better yelling than pushing it all down inside of you like you had done. The more time you spent with him the more you felt. He saw you and you saw him.
Friday night is when the nurses would put on a movie in the large common room. Almost everyone would gather around and would eat popcorn. Sometimes they would play multiple movies and everyone would get candy. You and Connor had always enjoyed those nights, but that days therapy had been intense for him so he retreated to his room. There was a strict rule that you couldn’t enter someone else’s room, but Connor seemed to need somebody. The movie was playing and everyone was concentrated on that so you made your way to the boy’s wing. You knocked on the door quietly.
“I told you I’m fine Nurse Roman. I just need some alone time. I promise I’ll come down for the second movie,” Connor said, exasperation coming through.
“Actually it’s me, y/n,” there was silence and then the door opened.
“What are you doing here? You aren’t allowed to be in this wing,” he said looking around the hallway.
“It seemed like you needed someone, so I’m here. Besides, when have you ever been one to shy away from breaking the rules?” A slight smile broke through his furrowed brows.
“What the hell, come in.” With that you walked into the room. The room held three beds and looked just like the girl’s wing.
“So are you doing okay?”
“I don’t know how I’ll do when I’m out of here. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. Maybe I should just make it very clear to them that I can’t go home anytime soon.”
“Don’t say that. You’ll do amazing whenever they say you can go home.”
“I know, but I don’t think I should go now.”
“They haven’t offered it yet and at least you’ll get to chill with me for a while if you want to stay after they do,” you spoke nervously laughing.
“You’ll go home soon.”
“I don’t think so. I haven’t ever truly talked emotions with them. That’s step one.”
“We’ll be depressed buddies,” he said.
“Buddies?”
“Or not,” he huffed he lips turning into a frown.
“Don’t frown Connor, it makes you look emo.” This comment got a laugh from him. His eyes filled with something you could only call happiness as he let himself laugh.
“I guess we aren’t really buddies,” he said, now causing a frown to form on your face. Seeing this he spoke up.
“What I mean is we’re too close to be buddies. We’re not friends or some shit, we’re just more.” You watched him say this and he seemed to truly mean it. He looked like what he said was the truth, like he cared for you.
You thought this while you both stood in the middle of the room. He was watching you, having no idea what was going on in your mind. You took a step closer to him. Confusion was now clearly evident on his face.
“More,” you whispered. You were sure he didn’t mean it like that, but he was there, and he cared for you and you cared for him. He was better than he could realize and he felt like home when your hands accidently brushed against each other, so you brought your lips to his. It could either be a disaster or it could make something more than you could hope or dream for. Your hands reached for his neck as you let yourself feel his warmth.
“More,” he whispered back breaking your lips apart. His eyes seemed to search for what brought this, but he didn’t care in the moment. Swiftly he pulled you close again. Your lips slowly melded together, your mouths open and burning, your bodies pressed against one another. Your hands found his hair and his arms firmly pulled your waist as close as possible. There was no space between you with your hips against him. Where you were and everything that had ever happened seemed irrelevant. All you knew is that you needed every part of him, and for him to know that every part of him was magnificent. The feeling overwhelmed you and the clothes that covered each of you felt to be keeping you apart. You tore at your shirt and Connor yanked his own off. His lips attached to your neck and down to your collarbone where he nipped at the skin.
“More,” you managed to say as you pushed him onto his bed. Connor reached to unclasp your bra, but struggled against the clasps.
“What the hell kind of bra is that?” you laughed heartily at his annoyance as you moved to unclasp it yourself. Connor immediately pulled you back to him as you stumbled over your feet and landed on the bed. Connor took this as an opportunity to climb over you. His lips once again went to your body. His lips traveled to your breasts and he placed wet sloppy kisses along the sides. You pulled him up to your face as you then started unbuttoning his pants. A groan escaped from Connor’s lips as you finally pulled them off of him along with his boxers. Your jeans and underwear were soon being pulled off of your body as Connor entered you. The feeling of his body on top of yours and him moving within you outweighed any fear of the future in the moment. In those moments you were one with every rushed movement of hips, whippers, and digging nails.

You stayed in each other’s arms, a layer of sweat on each of you, until you each got up, giggling trying to put your clothes back on. You walked to the common room together and sat on the couch next to one another, fingers intertwined in the dark as you watched the movie. Your fingers brushed over your lips where not long ago Connor was. You slept that night hoping for an ending with him that would make even a Disney princess blush.

The next morning you went on with class, which you and Connor didn’t have together, and individual therapy. You couldn’t help but let your mind wander to the night before, and when you did you felt your face flush thinking of the feeling of him. You brought your lunch to the small library where you and Connor ate. Of course you didn’t know how things would  be between you, but you had trust that it would be okay.
“Hey,” Connor said as he entered the almost empty room. His face was bright and beaming, more than you had ever seen. You could feel your stomach turn.
“Hey,” you said smiling.
“I have the best fucking news,” he spoke quickly, sitting next to you.
“You are going to meet the Rock? Because I could support that,” you teased. Connor rolled his eyes, but the smile didn’t falter.
“No you dipshit! I get to go home!” the words that tumbled out of his mouth with that bright smile stopped you. The smile on your face frozen, your heart stopping.
“What?” you said, the strain in your voice evident, but Connor was so excited he went right past it.
“You know how I was all freaked out?” you nodded, your face going from strained smile to blank.
“Well that’s because they told me I could go home in a few days and I was scared. They said I’m expressing myself, I’m not suicidal, I’ve been moving up on levels, I’m better with my family, and I think I agree now.”
“Wait, you knew yesterday?” you interrupted.
“Yes, but that’s not the point. After we-you know- I figured that if I can do that, or at least talk to you about my feelings and shit, I can make it out there.”
“You knew yesterday?”
“I already said that y/n. Isn’t this great?” Connor said smiling at you with those eyes that made you want him in the first place.
“You knew, didn’t tell me and then slept with me,” you a little louder.
“Come on y/n. It wasn’t like that-”
“No, it’s exactly like that. Was it a joke to you?”
“Now you’re being fucking stupid y/n”
“Stupid!” you fumed. The look on Connor’s face went from happy to angry. Why weren’t you being supportive and happy for him?
“Come on y/n! I didn’t mean it like that. Why aren’t you happy for me? Isn’t this what we talked about. This was one of my dreams! I’m doing it, my dream!”
“Happy for you? I’m not happy, I’m angry! How could you fuck me knowing you were going to be leaving?”
“Everyone leaves here y/n! This place isn’t a future, you know that!”
“You could have told me last night before we slept together! You should have told me before I made you my dream!” You were crying now, but you were wiping the tears away as fast as they came.
“Your dream? Now that’s fucking stupid. I won’t be your dream. We slept together. It was amazing, but we both know that we can’t build a future off of each other. We have to build a future off of ourselves.” Connor’s anger was apparent, but he looked at the tears on your face and all he wanted to do was hold you. Of course he wished that you could be something together, but you can’t when you need to take of yourself.
“What if I can’t do it? What if I can’t make a future?” you said, almost to silent to hear. Of course you were mad, but not at him. You put all of your hopes and dreams on others, but all they could do was let you down even if they didn’t mean to.
“You can do it,” he said softly, walking closer to you.
“How do you know?”
“If I tell you, you’ll never know that you can do it yourself.” You were now close enough to kiss him, but instead you just looked at him.
“You’ll do great out there in the real world,” you said
“I know.”
“We shouldn’t talk once you and I get out.”
“I know.”
“It would be too tempting and then I wouldn’t be able to focus on me.”
“I know.”
“Wherever you are when you’re out of here, think of me sometimes.”
“I will.”

That was the last conversation you had with him before he left. Of course you thought of him, and you were allowed to, but you didn’t let it consume you. You thought of him a lot at first, but then you spent your time thinking of how to get better.

You spent another two months at the center. It was hell there for a long time, but then it wasn’t. When you went home the house felt different, it was the home of a girl who viewed herself as already gone. When you entered you viewed yourself as a girl who had come back.

Now you were in your second year of college and were transferring. It didn’t feel scary, but felt amazing.

Three weeks into the new semester and you felt like you belonged. You sat in one of the courtyards eating lunch and reading a book when you were pulled from your thoughts by a voice from behind you.

“Y/n, looks like my dreams are coming true,” you could hear the smile in the voice you knew so well.

“Connor?”

Lights, Camera, Action! (M)

word count: 4.7k

genre: smut; movie star AU + actor!hoseok

pairing: reader/hoseok

summary: you were just a small town actress who’d been picked up for a big movie starring you and award winning actor shin hoseok. turns out, there’s quite a steamy scene that you two must take part in and you’re more than nervous about it. luckily, hoseok is a professional and he isn’t afraid to help you out.

dedicated to: my valentine, @wonholypeach​ who isn’t feeling well after her surgery and needed a pick-me-up. enjoy and please get well soon love!  ♡

a/n: just a disclaimer i did minimal research on actual movie sex scenes & have very limited knowledge on this so this is definitely not realistic.

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vox.com
Study: Trump fans are much angrier about housing assistance when they see an image of a black man
In contrast, Clinton supporters seemed relatively unmoved by racial cues.
By German Lopez

or in other words:

“Trump supporters are anti-black and would rather see everyone homeless if it means that black people would receive social services”

This is a common narrative, not unique to Trump supporters. They’re just the base that Trump panders to. The 1999 book - Why Americans Hate Welfare: Race, Media & the Politics of Anti-Poverty Policy discusses how the dynamics of racism and mis-information causes many Americans to be inherently distrustful of welfare recipients - while at the same time wanting to “do more to help the ‘deserving poor’” (AKA the sweet white women in poverty you see in lifetime movies as oppose to the ‘welfare queens’ we see depicted on primetime TV)

But even before the research of this book was done, you could ask… literally any black person receiving public assistance how the public views them as lazy, immoral and sub-human