when i got this on vhs when it came out i watched it every day for a week

Breaking The Waves

Author’s Note: welcome back to chanvember everyone!! busy times for me tbh, but i couldnt pass a holiday about giving thanks without doing something for my main man <3 im terrible at standard fluff, so be gentle here lmao enjoy!
Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader (oc; female)
Summary: It isn’t that you’re lonely, just that you mostly prefer to be alone. You’re okay with this, and don’t usually mind it. All you need a is a good song to get you by. But what happens when well chosen song from a jukebox changes your entire summer?
Genre: teen/college!au; fluff; romance
Rating: PG
Warning: some minor swearing
Word Count: 5,308

Originally posted by dazzlingkai

22 August, 1996

Seeing him in front of me makes my tongue feel heavy, breath caught in my lungs and turning the muscle into a dry, withered thing too tense for me to move.

Thinking about the sweat on my palms makes me feel a bit sick, like everything about me is yellow - not the good yellow, the kind of yellow in a kitchen that looks tungsten and makes your eyes burn. 

Wait.

This is a terrible place to start.

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Did you just kiss me?! [Mike Wheeler Imagine]

Prompt: “Did you seriously just kiss me?!” w/ Bella name insert instead of reader.

Requested my @imastrangerthang on Wattpad

A/N: I’m starting to write the part 2 of the Steve Harrington imagine and I want an opinion if they should make up or not. Of course I have the main idea down and written but all I need is if you want a happy or feels ending. Also for this imagine I realized half way through that I started with first person and ended with 3rd so please don’t mind that. But I hope you enjoy this! And side note this is a semi AU after the events of season 1.

~~~~~~~

Today we were planning on seeing a Star Wars film! Mike, Dustin, Lucas, Will, El, and I were planning on hanging out together like we always do. Mike got a VHS of Return of the Jeti we were going to watch it and sneak a butt load of food into Mike’s basement and after we would reenact it like we always do. We have been planning this day for about 2 weeks now and everyone seems to be canceling on us. Dustin has to go to the doctors for a check up, Lucas is grounded for cussing in front of his family, Jonathan is taking Will on a trip to a museum, and El is having a girls day with Joyce.
“Ohh my god! Bella! We’ve been planning this for ages we can’t just cancel the whole thing now!” Mike lets out a big sigh and jumps face first into the couch. Mike wanted us to get together and bond since we all make been busy or having nightmares about the Upside down.
I copy Mike’s sigh and place down a bag of potato chips is was just eating. I roll over to Mike and get up and sit on his back and start hitting it. I let out a big yell and say, “We can’t just cancel this, Mike! It’s Star Wars! ITS STAR WARS!”
“Bella! Get off of me! UGHHH! There is no way we can just everyone to stop what they are doing and come over here to watch Star Wars.” Mike rubs his face on the arm of the chair and starts do make annoyed sounds.
“I know. I know. But it’s return of the Jeti! I guess we can just watch it together. It won’t be as great but it’s something and we still get to watch it in the end.” I let out probably the 50th sigh I’ve let out today. I get off of Mike’s back and continue back to my potato chips as I feel a small dust of pink make its way to my cheeks. Thinking about spending time with Mike alone makes me feel a little flustered. Usually we are never alone together because we are always with another person in our gang. I have always had a close relationship with Mike even though I was one of the last people to move here considering I lived in California. Mike was the once who quickly warmed up to me as he saw a collectors Star Wars pin on my backpack. We soon became best friends and stayed together since.
Mike was one of the first people to talk to me in my new school so I have always felt like I owe him my gratitude and that means me probably spending time with him 24/7. The endless hours of us hanging out has made me develop a small crush on the floppy haired male. I was a grade below them but every hour after school he would be with me cheering me on or making his sassy remarks. No one knows about my crush besides El and El finds it really cute and wants us to get together even though we are still very young. El found out when she came over to my house and my older sister was teasing me and El overheard.
“Bella! Bella! You are zoning out again, you airhead! What do you want to go home now even though you were complaining just a second ago?” Mike sits up on the couch and crosses his arm and raises an eyebrow at me.
“I did not zone out, douche. I’ll stay here and we could still watch Star Wars and have a sleep over but it’s only going to be us! There will not be Dustin and Lucas to scream at the TV anymore!” I let out an exasperated breath and I hear a chuckle escape Mike’s lips.
“Why are you saying it like its a bad thing?” Mike’s bad mood starts to life and a smile starts to build itself on his face. His features light up at Bella’s ridiculousness. Bella doesn’t know this but Mike has had a huge crush on her the first time he saw here in the school campus looking oblivious to what’s going on in the real word as she whispered the script to Star Wars. Mike had make an effort to grow some balls and go talk to the girl and when he finally did he was relived at how normal it felt to talk to Bella.
“Because now you have to deal with my constant yelling and questions! You know me Mike-” Bella continues to ramble out a bunch of words that Mike would probably not even understand if he was listening. Instead of paying attention, Mike’s eyes drift to Bella’s plump light pink lips. Mike finds himself captivated as he soon focuses on them and wtches them move as she talks and occasionally would bite them when she stumbled on a word. Without realizing Mike started to lean closer to Bella.
“Mike? Mike!” Bella tries to get his attention as she notices his absence in the conversation but she soon realizes his close proximity. “W-what?”
Mike leans closer and soon their lips are touching. Considering this was their first kiss together it was a little unplanned and not practice for but they both felt like they were meant to me. It may all sound cheesy but they did love each other with all their heart and would do anything for each other.
Mike soon realized what he had done and pulled away quickly and soon followed by Bella as she stared shocked at him as her whole face turned a bright pink color.
“Did you seriously just kiss me?!” Bella lets out a loud breath that she realize she had been holding in and tries to avoid his gaze at her outburst that may had come off as rude.
“I-I mean.. Yeah. Ohh I’m so sorry, Bella! Was that your first kiss! I didn’t mean to but you are just so pretty and I really like you! Did I just say I like you I mean! Uhh I’m sorry…” Mike find it hard to form a complete sentence that makes sense but ends up finding his fingers more interesting than ever before.
“No no it’s okay Mike. How do I say this? I guess I like you too. Sorry I never told you I just didn’t know how! I know it’s not like me but I can’t help it!” Bella grabs Mike’s hands that makes his eyes land on hers.
Mike lets out a relieved breath as his nerves seem to lighten up. Mike’s grin that makes millions or girls swoon without realizing makes its way onto his features as he says, “umm since we like each other… Do you want to be my girlfriend?”
A smile that always seems to be molded on Bella’s face forms again as she looks like the happiest girl alive brings Mike close and kissing him on the cheek and whispers yes in a sweet tone.

Scary Movies

Felicity finds herself unable to sleep after watching a scary movie with Roy. Set in Season 3.

This my entry for this week’s Olicity Hiatus Fic-a-Thon prompt Sleepless.

I had three different conversations in the past week about my fear of scary movies so when I saw the prompt was sleepless, I couldn’t help myself. I also couldn’t sleep after watching The Ring.

No beta for this one. All mistakes are mine. Also available on AO3.



“But this movie isn’t scary, Felicity, it’s more of a psychological thriller. You will be fine.” Roy smiled a Felicity.


“Roy, I’ve heard of The Ring, I also heard the original Japanese version is much better. Put it on and if I find it too scary, I’ll just stop watching.”


Felicity and Roy had begun hanging out lately. After Sara’s death, she just wanted to appreciate her time with her friends a bit more. So, they created movie night, this was Roy’s night to pick the movie.

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Stargate SG-1 Season 1 thoughts:

I finished the first season in just under a week, yikes. I’ll try and go more slowly but we know that’s not going to happen so let’s stop lying to each other

The 1994 Stargate movie has one of my all time favourites since it came out on VHS (so 1995?). Seriously, it’s up there on the list of of Movies I’ve Watched Over and Over Again alongside Jurassic Park, Star Trek IV The Voyage Home, Back to the Future, and Independence Day!  Why I never made the conscious decision to watch SG-1 when it was on TV is beyond me. I was watching X-files and Buffy and Star Trek around that time so this would have been so to my tastes back then. Wtf, younger me??

  • A surprisingly good first season! A good many shows (especially in the 80s/90s/00s) had pretty crappy first seasons, but SG1 was great. I was hooked by just the first 5 minutes of the first episode! Fantastic team dynamic

  • Richard Dean Anderson is 1000000% a better Jack O’Neill than Kurt Russell. Though for the first few episodes whenever he was on screen I kept having horrible flashbacks to his awful MacGyver mullet from that dark dark past

Originally posted by sierragolfoneniner


  • I preferred movie Daniel to SG1 Daniel. But I could be biased because movie Daniel was one of my first ever crushes from 20+ years ago when I was like 6 years old. I like Michael Shanks, but he’s not quite there yet with Daniel. I have a feeling I’ll love him in the next couple seasons

Originally posted by macxroons


  • IT’S REALLY FUNNY

Originally posted by samcaarter


  • Teal’c. A+ frowning all the time. I love him. A lot.

Originally posted by samantha-carter-is-my-muse


  • And finally, Sam Carter. So far she’s my favourite. So many other sci-fi shows from this era would have made her ‘The Token Girl’ and sexualized her every chance they got. Nope, not here. She wears army gear that is the same as the men’s, and she’s smarter than than these guys too. All around great character!

Originally posted by samcaarter

anonymous asked:

Can you do a sterek fic where they look for a VCR?

Thank you for sending in this prompt, sweetie! I’m publishing it on the Fourth of July but it is sadly not Fourth of July themed. Hope you like fluff and angst, because apparently that’s all I can write right now :P

Also on AO3.


They were laying on the couch in the middle of a Criminal Minds marathon when Derek finally cracked. Stiles could tell that he’d been trying to say something all night but instead of trying to pull it out of Derek, he only pulled him closer in his arms and settled deeper into the couch. He stayed quiet, placing his head over Derek’s shoulder and breathing in deeply at his neck.

He knew Derek would eventually tell him what’s been on his mind. After being together for over a year, not everything seemed like it needed to be addressed immediately for Stiles anymore. He was content to wait for Derek because he knew how difficult it was for him to open up. And every time the sourwolf did open up, Stiles felt immeasurably privileged and weirdly honored. Derek had chosen him*, and kept choosing him.

Now, though, Derek was twisting in Stiles’ lap and turning to face him. He pursed his lips and looked down again before sighing and staring into Stiles’ eyes.

“It’s Cora’s birthday next week,” he said.

This was news to Stiles. While yes, he and Derek had known each other for a few years now and were obviously close – they were living together for Pete’s sake – the topic of Derek’s family was a poisoned pot of worms that Stiles would never push. He’d been slowly learning more about Derek’s childhood and life after the fire. There was no need to rush.

Stiles knew how Derek’s dad and grandma had taught him how to cook since he was old enough to hold a spoon. How Peter had been that cool uncle that took him out of school every once in awhile to go on a roadtrip to any and everywhere. How Laura pushed him to get his GED when they left Beacon Hills and how he started at SUNY when he was only seventeen afterwards. How his favorite color was pink because it was warm without reminding him of fire.

But every new story was never forced. It didn’t exactly feel natural, and it was hard as hell for Derek, but he wanted Stiles to know him. Every part of him.

But things like birthdays and anniversaries only came up when it was too hard for Derek to deal with on his own. Stiles knew this and understood that there were some things of his family that Derek wanted to keep just for himself. Stiles was the same when it came to his own mom. So if Derek was bringing up Cora’s birthday, and acting like this about it, something was wrong.

Stiles swallowed.

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CU Murder AU - Murder Underpants

Because I’m a crap for angst/breakdowns, I’d l o v e to write for this little “murder” au, which I called the file for this “Murder Underpants” since “Captain Murder” sounds like a knock off Blunderpants XD

Forgive me for any spelling or grammar mistakes!

Inspired by the following posts.

@larrythedrunkardlamp @jackie-sugarskull @clockworks-time @guiltyhipster @thatanimationgirl @superhighschoolleveldemigod @realphoebejudd

TW: Blood and describing a fatal wound

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Written for the @sterekwriters Summer Bingo Tournament. For the prompt: Swimming Lessons

Really it’s Derek’s own fault for choosing to move back into the house. Living under the same roof as his parents again is one thing, but living with his sisters is entirely another.

School being out of session means his nephews are in rare form bouncing around the house. And since he’s the only one of his siblings without a “real” job (“grad school doesn’t count, you nerd,” Cora likes to tell him), he’s usually the one stuck with babysitting duty. And he loves the boys, he does, but it’s difficult to get any work done on his thesis when cooped up inside with a couple of stir crazy eight-year-olds.

So. Community pool it is. Laura signed the boys up for swimming lessons four days a week without telling Derek until the night before their first one, but Derek doesn’t have it in him to complain too much. At least it’ll get them all out of the house for a little while, and maybe wear the boys out enough that they’ll be content to laze around in front of the TV for few hours afterwards while Derek writes.

Josh and Beck are a handful on a good day, but they seem fairly well contained now, racing each other from wall to wall across the shallow end. The instructor (“call me Stiles” he’d said at the start, which the boys had loved and Derek had scowled at) watches with a smile on his face and doesn’t bother correcting their form.

So far the guy hasn’t even gotten fully into the pool, or even taken his shirt off, just sitting on the edge with his legs kicking idly about in the water while he observes the kids. But if this is just some sort of glorified babysitting deal, Derek has absolutely zero problems with that. He brought a book with him and he knows the boys are already competent enough in the water to make lessons fairly superfluous anyway.

“Alright, high dive time!” Stiles shouts out of nowhere, and that definitely catches Derek’s attention.

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Thoughts Roundup - Twin Peaks: The Return, Part 16

“No knock, No doorbell”

There are moments in pop culture history that I always feel envious about - envious because I wish i’d been there to experience it them as they happened. I wish I could’ve seen Talking Heads perform live, I wish I could have seen The Shining in cinemas when it was first released, and I wish I could have watched the original run of Twin Peaks when it first aired. The thing about the desire to have experienced these things as they happened is directly tied to the environment they’re released into, and the effect they had on the public at the time. You can get the blu ray of Stop Making Sense, you can find The Shining screenings in independent cinemas, and you can buy the Twin Peaks boxset. But what I really want is to know what it felt like to see Twin Peaks every week, at a time when Dynasty and L.A Law were as exciting as TV got. I want to have been a part of those conversations that people had about the show. I want to know how people like my Mum felt when she watched it back in 1990 (for the record, she hated it. She’s got great taste, but Twin Peaks was decidedly too weird, according to her). 

I came along to Twin Peaks ten years ago, when the show had vanished from the conversation and was yet to have a second life thanks to the likes of Netflix and Hulu. David Lynch’s work was alien and exciting to me - I remember seeing a Fire Walk With Me VHS in HMV years before and asking my Mum just what it was. I remember seeing clips of Blue Velvet late at night and being terrified of it. And finally, I remember seeing clips from Twin Peaks’ last episode being featured on a countdown of the 100 Scariest Moments on Channel 4. That’s when I knew I had to find out just what the fuck it was all about. And I have such fond memories from 2007 & 2008, of obsessing over the show, watching episodes on summer evenings in my room, excited about waking up the next day so I could tell my Mum and Brother about it. The thing that the experience missed is a feeling of communality. The moments in the show that rocked my world and made me feel a way i’d never felt before were experienced solely by me, in a tiny bedroom, on a portable DVD player. The moments that, when they first aired had people all over the world talking now felt like they were being seen in 2007 only by me. But now, ten years on, as Twin Peaks: The Return heads towards the finish line and its biggest moments reverberate from it with electric power, I finally get to have what I never had before: the experience of watching it with the world. The only other show I experienced that with was Lost, a show I watched religiously and passionately. But The Return feels different - it feels bigger. 

You can feel that there are fans who’ve waited 10, 20, 25, years for it, and it carries the extra weight of knowing that this really might be David Lynch’s last filmic or televisual outing. Think about that for a second. This week might be the last time we can say that we have David Lynch’s work to look forward to. He’s spoken about how he’s moving away from films and towards visual arts, and at 71, going back to the world that forever cemented his name in the Pop Culture canon could be the most perfect swan song of his career. As a result, every episode feels loaded and essential, and with the events of tonight’s episode, it feels like we’re seeing something iconic take place. We are reacting together. We are experiencing it together. I’ve had conversations about it with my girlfriend, a bunch of friends, family members, and some randomers online for good measure. These are those shared experiences i’d longed for. 14 year old me, watching monumental television unfold and wishing he had someone to share it with is being rewarded every week, and I’ve never felt more rewarded than I felt with part 16 and its own monumental developments.

Dale Cooper is awake. Finally. Whether you’ve waited a season, or 27 years, nobody can deny the immense satisfaction that this development delivers. It feels huge. It feels iconic. It feels like something truly good and pure occurring in a bleak world. I got tearful, I laughed, I smiled so wide my face hurt. I didn’t realise how badly I needed Dale back. How badly the world needs Dale back. “People are under a lot of stress” notes Rodney Mitchum tonight. They certainly are. Whether they’re residents of Twin Peaks or Las Vegas, the characters throughout this return have resided in a world of hurt. It feels sharply current, and a reflection of an America that feels broken. Out of the pain, through the pain - through a violent electric shock that is - returns to us Dale Cooper, the hero we both need and deserve. He is Lynch and Frost’s testament to goodness, their monument to the power of kindness. The electrical power that has given him new life like some kind of benevolent Frankenstein’s monster is finally used for goodness, a reminder that a thing which can contain evil is not entirely comprised of that evil. There is room for goodness - the Mitchum brothers have hearts of gold, as Dale (it feels SO FUCKING GOOD to finally be able to write “Dale”) tells them. Janey-E and Sonny Jim are good people caught up in someone else’s awful web. Dale is a good man who promises that he will one day walk through that red door and come home for good. For now, he’s walked through that red curtain and is back home with us. Whether he himself comes back to Janey-E and Sonny Jim, or whether a copy of him (he tells Mike to make another) takes his place, I adore the humanity and warmth his family is written with. They are dearly cared about by Lynch and Frost.

Dale remembers every moment with the Joneses. It meant something. It filled his heart up, and kept him going, and Dale’s poignant sincerity - god, i’ve missed it - tells her this honest truth. The miraculous and thrilling thing about his awakening is there is no need to stop and explain everything to Dale. There is no catchup. He is awake, dressed in his sharp black suit within moments, and is on the way to Twin Peaks while the main theme chimes in cathartically, and here he proclaims: “I am the FBI”. I cannot think of a greater, more exciting and meaningful moment in TV. I have goosebumps just thinking of it. If The Return has all been about trying to return to something that once was and the difficulties surrounding that, then this episode seems to posit the optimistic and moving idea that some things will always be. Like Laura Palmer and the Log Lady, Dale Cooper always will be, and it is hard not to take great comfort in that fact. Like the river running through the town, or the moon overhead each night, the forces of good will always exist, even if they are reborn. It needed to take 16 episodes. It needed to feel earned. And it needed to make its point, which it has with powerful brilliance. 

The comfort of Dale’s return is contrasted by Doppelcoop’s pretty un-fatherly sacrificing of Richard Horne, who it’s revealed through a casually mumbled line, is (or was) Doppelcoop’s son. Doppelcoop’s headlights are still probing the road in front of him, still pushing onwards into that darkest of night, and there is a feeling of dread every time we see these headlights, waiting for them to illuminate the iconic “Welcome to Twin Peaks” sign. It is just a matter of time. Richard is destroyed by an electric light that engulfs him, and possibly whisks him away to the black lodge. The question is open of who sent Doppelcoop here, exactly? It seems to have been a trap designed to wipe him out, and it seemingly came from either Jeffries or Diane. His coldness and his manipulative ease is frightening here - he has known all along that Richard is his son, and feels nothing upon seeing his son killed. And Richard follows his father’s orders in a perverse mirror image of the people who follow Dale’s orders. He marches happily into the darkness where he is killed because that is Doppelcoop’s power: if he tells you to do something, you do it. With Dale, you listen to him similarly, but not from fear - instead from respect and love. Dale has always been a delightfully bossy person, but because Doppelcoop has twisted Dale’s goodness into evil, he has taken that friendly bossiness and turned it into a dictatorship of demands. If you don’t listen to Doppelcoop, you die. If you do listen to him, you’ll probably die anyway. 

Diane, we hardly knew ye. Well, maybe that should be DoppelDiane. We knew something was wrong - every moment she was on screen, Laura Dern masterfully sold Diane’s trembling dread with a wild intensity that was both all-knowing and untouchably distant. She was full of secrets, and Doppelcoop’s text to her (nice to see that lodge spirits use emoticons!) seems to have triggered something inside Diane which sent those secrets pouring out of her. The revelation that she is not the real Diane but instead a manufactured Diane sounds crazy, but suddenly everything about her makes sense. A real tortured Diane is in there somewhere, or at least her memories are, and perhaps if she is in the same place as Laura there is a distant hope that she is safe, or can be brought back. Doppelcoop has throughout the years been playing god. He has manufactured people, he has manipulated people, he has bent everything to his will, and Diane is an example of what that does to a person. She disappears after being shot in a wildly intense sequence, and her body is viciously flung, disappears, and then winds up in the red room. Here, She is destroyed. So, where is the real Diane? Where is her soul? What happens to people like her and Laura? It is heartbreaking to find out that all along, she was just a pawn, and her story of what Doppelcoop did is even more heartbreaking. It’s a sad end - but is it the end? I’m certain I heard her say “i’m in the sheriff’s station” in this scene, which seems to be where all the story threads are heading towards. I can’t help but think of Judy. Whoever she is, she’s got a LOT of explaining to do.

Gary and Chantal, we hardly knew ye, either. Their end is hilariously overblown. A fender bender turns into the most ludicrously violent uzi-led shootout, and it really is down to their own stupidity. They were vocal supporters of violence, and they died fittingly violent deaths - deaths which echo Bonne & Clyde, except Gary and Chantal aren’t really so romantic. They’re just two dumdums who eat a lot of crisps and mess up simple tasks. 

Audrey’s scenes tonight gave us the double rug pull. The first was “Surprise! She is in the real world”, and the second was a bigger “Surprise! Of course she’s fucking not!”. There was something so uncanny and strange happening with her throughout the last episodes, and Diane’s claim that she’s not herself tonight called back to Audrey’s similar claim in a previous episode. Her appearance at the Roadhouse feels realistic enough, until the MC announces Audrey’s Dance, the song she danced to all those years ago, and the crowd moves off the stage so that she can dance dreamily once again. The moment is inexplicable and as hypnotic now as it was then. However, where it once felt otherworldly in a wonderful sense, it now feels laced with menace and literal dreaminess - a violent altercation in the Roadhouse wakes Audrey up, and suddenly she is in a bright white room staring at herself in a mirror in confusion. The beautiful dream, the gorgeous music, the perfect concoction that sent nostalgic goosebumps up our arms is coldly revealed to be quite literally unreal. She is somewhere else now, where the lush purple lighting of the Roadhouse has been replaced with a blinding clinical whiteness. Her dance - so joyous and soulful - is snatched away from us and replaced with uncertainty once again. Is she somewhere with Laura and Diane, or someplace else entirely? I think we will find out, but what matters is that she is not here, she is not herself, and the dream has ended. 

It is incredible the range of emotions that an episode of Twin Peaks can stir. The questions I want answered most are clinging to me tightly - who is Judy and what does Doppelcoop want? - but the overall feeling I get from The Return and from this episode is not of confusion, but overwhelmed emotion. An episode where Dale speaks would in itself be enough to knock you out, but with everything else that happens, the episode is a behemoth - yet it is carefully written and plotted. Despite the questions, I didn’t get lost in the weeds, and the return of Dale feels like a moment of shining clarity to help you through. There is a feeling of togetherness and unity now that Dale is awake again, and a sense of safety that wasn’t present before. And so, we head into the final week of Twin Peaks maybe ever. And like the millions that we are sharing this experience with, tonight’s episode is about sharing our experiences with others - be it Diane sharing her experiences with the FBI, Dale sharing his life with Janey-E and Sonny Jim, or the Mitchum Brothers sharing their generosity with the Jones family. It’s about the power of sharing, of not living alone. And while it may be painful (Diane), or beautiful (Dale and Janey-E), it is essential that we share the experience. It’s the source of goodness, and the goodness is now wide awake in Twin Peaks

coming of age

ao3 link

“Come back soon!” Her mom says.

She is by the doorway, finishing tying her sport shoes.

She nods and then takes off.


“Are you Moon?”

“Yes,” she replies and smiles at the man behind the desk, not yet tired of this routine. She clutches a few Pokedollars in her hand, looking to buy some revives.

“Wow!” He says, breathless and hands shaking as he bends down to unlock the cabinet. “That means that you can purchase even more items. You’re the first ever Alola champion, after all!”

The smile doesn’t leave her face but something hurts a bit more.

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Imagine Axl Telling You He Loves You for the First Time

“Do you like it?” Axl asks as we walk past a jewelry store. The necklace had caught my eye but I hadn’t wanted to say anything about it. A single diamond on a pretty silver chain, simple but just the kind of thing I like.

“It’s very pretty.” We stand in front of the glass window, Axl’s arm hanging loosely around my waist. There are a few people watching him but he doesn’t seem to notice. Of course there have been some cameras trying to snap pictures of us, which made me extremely uncomfortable.

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A LONG-OVERDUE BLOG POST ON MY BROTHER DARYL

When I’ve told the story of my brother to people in the past, they don’t know how to respond. This is probably because they can’t even imagine anything so awful and unsettling happening to anyone. I can see the immediate desire to sympathize in their faces, their heads often cocked down, trying to come up with some words of satisfying assurance after being hit with something they can hardly wrap their heads around.

I can hardly wrap my head around it, and I’ve lived it.

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The Trouble with Blue Dresses: Action Verbs and Office Windows (2x01 Olicity fluffy smut)

Expanding my first smut attempt into a series of episode-based oneshots where Felicity wearing a blue dress = Olicity sexy times. Here’s 2x01, enjoy!

For the Fuckening, because holy hell, it’s happening.

Rated: M

ff.net

Actions Verbs and Office Windows

The deja vu probably would have hit her sooner, if not for the hooded gunmen and imminent peril and all. Once her mind’s caught up with the fact that yes, Oliver did just pick her up and swing them out the window of a skyscraper and back through the windows on the floor below, for a few seconds, all she can think is holy shit, they’re alive. They’re okay.

Except that he’s not.

“Oh my god, Oliver, you’re bleeding,” she says and her voice sounds leveler than she would have imagined possible, given the circumstances.

It’s not life-threatening, but there’s a pretty nasty gash on the underside of his forearm, because, you know, that’s what happens when you go smashing through plate glass windows. He seems unphased, but she knows from experience now that they’ve at least got to clean it out and hopefully bandage it before someone, please let it be Diggle, can stitch him up later.

So it’s not until she’s hustled him into the floor’s handicapped bathroom, found the meager first-aid kit underneath the sink and started cleaning off his forearm with the antiseptic wipes, that she realizes: for the second time in as many weeks, he’s literally swung her to safety in totally ridiculous ways. First off of a landmine, which she had thought was pretty crazy, until this morning when they went through a goddamn window.

And it is ridiculous, this whole day is ridiculous, her whole life is ridiculous now, and there’s still adrenaline coursing through her veins, so she can’t help herself if she snickers just a little bit.

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LOST EPISODES


I don’t want to burst anyone’s bubble, here… so if you believe in haunted “Lost Episode” legends and enjoy living in that world, maybe this isn’t the post for you.

Don’t get me wrong - I hate when people complain about “lack of realism” in entertainment, and I think all kids need to believe in Santa and the Tooth Fairy for as long as possible, but… this is different.

Back in the 80s I met this dude, Sid, who used to cut old VHS tapes and shit. It was more than a hobby for him - it was pretty much his entire life. His parents were a bit more wealthy than I’d been blessed with, so when we were teenagers and I was slaving away at a “Skats” (Yes, Skats) fast food restaurant, he just hung out around the house, cutting tapes. All day. All night.

Of course, as you get older things in your past become a bit clearer and I think he might’ve been borderline Autistic… or maybe he was a very high-functioning person with Asperger’s… but of course I’m no expert and I’m not saying that was the case. It’s just the best and quickest way I can think of to explain his personality and this obsession with cutting tapes, cutting tapes, cutting tapes.

It started when he saw “Old Yeller” as a little kid. For whatever reason, his parents let him watch that shit. If you’re unfamiliar with it, it’s the tale of a boy and his dog. I hope I don’t have to announce the spoiler on such an old-ass movie, but in the end the boy has to shoot his own dog because it’s rabid.

Sid didn’t appreciate this. His dad photographed and video-taped weddings, so he showed Sid how to operate some of the machines… and Sid cut out the ending, replacing it with an earlier, happier scene as if Old Yeller just suddenly “got better” offscreen.

He watched the tape obsessively after that, even into his early teens when I’d first met him. He made me watch it once to show how he “fixed” it, and I could actually picture him as a little boy once he started applauding and cheering his own faux-ending.

I don’t want to say I was a bad influence, but after I saw it I asked if he could do that with other movies.

My major interest was perhaps taking a film or two and cutting in some nude frames the actresses hadn’t really done… Don’t worry, though. I never had the guts to actually ask if he would. I just imagined how cool it would be. Often.

Sid told me that, yes, he could “fix” any movie he wanted. In fact, he had done it with a few others. He had a copy of a Ghost Busters cartoon and - I shit you not - every single ghost was completely removed. The story made no sense, there was no continuity, but he had accomplished it and I was very impressed.

I guess in the time of VHS, these things seemed more magical than they do nowadays.

As time went by, I encouraged Sid to edit more movies, but with different purposes. Instead of whitewashing all the scary stuff like he’d wanted to do, I got him to “see the light” on how awesome he could make things.

Somewhere out there, this chubby Star Wars nerd from our highschool has all three original films flawlessly cut together, with edited-in effects that would’ve made George Lucas himself cry out: “Enough meddling!!”

We charged him like twenty dollars for the only copy, because we were idiots.

Anyway, this went on for a while before I lost most of my interest in it. It was more of a goof for me than it was for him. This is the point where I started working, started driving, started taking bases with local girls… while he just got more and more involved in cutting those tapes.

I think his favorites were cartoons. When The Simpsons came around, he went ape shit with those. Now his edits weren’t so much fixing things as just breaking them in interesting ways. Another thing that sticks out in my mind is when he recorded an episode of M*A*S*H and cut it with a gory old war flick. Halfway through his version, the camp gets bombed… soldiers invade… everyone dies. At the end, he specifically worked in freeze-frames of each cast member’s face. Eyes closed.

He had completely reversed his interests and embraced what had once terrified him… scary endings. He seemed to love things like long, drawn-out sequences in terrifying silence. He’d make me be quiet while they played, too.

You may have heard about this mysterious fellow named Banksy who goes around creating interesting graffiti and whatnot. At one point, he went into a music store and replaced some Paris Hilton CDs with his own fakes.

Banksy had nothing on Sid. Every other week, he’d tell me about some store or a video rental place he’d snuck some of his tapes into. He swapped out the real ones for his versions, and then he’d start all over by cutting the ones he had stolen.

At one point, when I hadn’t heard from him in a long while, I stopped by his parents’ house and found him in the garage. He’d set up his own little movie studio there, complete with a drawing board.

He was actually animating entirely new content.

All at once, I was both blown away by his artistic skill I’d never seen before… and very concerned about when this guy was going to come out of the dark and start acting “normal” like me.

He barely looked up from his drawings as we spoke. I asked him what any kid, now in his late teens, would ask…

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Hm?”

“Seriously, dude. This is some crazy shit.”

“It’s work. I’m working. My work is just as important as anyone else’s.”

“Are you even selling these anymore, or are you just sneaking them into places? How much is all of this costing your Dad?”

“I don’t care.”

I looked at what he was so fervently illustrating.

“Is that a headless body? Dancing?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s pretty dark, man.”

“I know. That’s the point.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Those tapes. I thought they were wrong, but over time I figured out the truth.”

“Which is…”

“The scary stuff is right. The happy endings are the lie.”

He just kept drawing as I stood there. The silence was disturbing, and in that moment I could smell the B.O. coming off of him. It wasn’t just sweat, either. It was a mingling of that and a foul ass and piss-soaked cloth.

I hate to say it, but I gave up on him right then. It’s that moment when you look at someone… someone you thought you knew… and all that you can think is… “Holy shit, I never realized they were this far gone.”

It wasn’t until I was in my 30s that Sid crossed my mind again. I was pursuing the internet, just aimlessly wandering the web, when I came across a series of “urban legends” about strange VHS tapes, re-cut movies, and lost episodes.

Some of these I recognized. I’d watched them with Sid, or I’d actually seen him in the middle of working on them. Every disturbing scene, every unbelievable anecdote… I believed it, because I had been there.

Others… SpongeBob cartoons, episodes of iCarly or whatever, those shows came long after I’d made my break with Sid, but the style was all too familiar. Even the ones that didn’t sound like his work seemed like they could’ve been broken copies or attempts at mimicing his work.

He was still doing it. My God, it boggled my mind.

I called up Sid’s old number, not entirely sure I’d still find him there. It rang for minutes on end, and I knew that the search was hopeless. Even if he still lived with his parents, it wasn’t likely they’d all still be at the same house by now.

Still…

I made it a point to drive out to his old place… to see if he was still in that garage, cutting tapes, or manipulating them via computer, or whatever he would be up to. When I passed by the house, the unkempt lawn was overgrown with huge, waist-high weeds. The dilapidated facade of the building, with its peeling paint on the shutters, missing roof tiles, and muck-filled gutters told me no one had lived here for a long time.

I saw a note on the door, but couldn’t read it from the road. Maybe it was something I could use to locate Sid and see if he’d ever gotten the help I now realized I should have given him.

Pulling into the driveway, my headlights illuminated the garage door. It was windowless and vandalized with the gangster tags of some traveling band of assholes.

The note on the door, as one might expect, spoke of a certain bank now owning the property. It noted that trespassing was heavily discouraged, and that at a certain point someone would be out to make sure the house was “winterized”. Whatever the Hell that is.

As I walked back to the car, defeated, something was nagging at me. I knew that Sid’s parents kept a spare key under a false rock by the back stairs, basically by virture of Sid locking us both out on several occasions.

When I found that key, a sense of cold, gnawing dread swirled in my stomach.

Who would move out and leave everything in place like this? The key was the most obvious thing, but flower pots and lawn decorations were still there. Sid’s old, rusted-out Huffy bike was leaning against the house, and had created thick rusty streaks along the aluminum siding.

I don’t even know what I expected to find, but using the key, I entered the house.

The smell was overwhelming.

Not a putrid smell, nothing rotten or decaying… just the smell of… I don’t know if this would make any sense to you, but… the smell of electricity. Like burning dust on a lightbulb or a heater giving off a peculiar warmed metal odor.

That was the least of my concerns, however, as I saw everything just as I had left it. Everything Sid’s family owned was frozen in time. The dining room table we’d all sat at on many occasions was dust-covered and supported an emiaciated dead rat which had all but turned to dust.

The television… that bulky, oversized television set we’d all sat around to watch Sid’s tapes and laud his creativity… it sat where it always had been, silently displaying a violent bombardment of black and white static.

As I moved through the rooms, the sense of panic and discomfort within me only grew. Every fiber of my being was shouting RUN… RUN, you fucking idiot!

Still, I pressed on into Sid’s bedroom. It was now empty and in disrepair, his prized action figures and blank video tapes… hundreds of video tapes… stale and water damaged.

I almost wanted to call out… to shout “Sid!” and wait for him to appear as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

I went into his parents’ bedroom.

There, lying in bed, were two motionless bodies. Gaunt. Gray. Half turned to dust, just like the rat in the dining room.

I could scarcely believe what I was seeing with my own eyes. Not only were two dead bodies slowly dissipating within the confines of this once idyllic suburban household… but nobody had even checked on them. Nobody had discovered this until now.

My mind raced. My heart raced. The only things that wouldn’t move were my feet, which remained glued to the spot.

Sid, I thought, must have done this. There was no way the two of them would just lie down one night and simultaneously DIE of natural causes! Sid had said he didn’t care about his parents, and…

When was the last time I had seen them? God, I hadn’t seen them for days, maybe weeks BEFORE the last time I talked to Sid…

When I finally left the room, I took out my cell phone and began dialing 911. However, as soon as I lifted it to my head, an ear-splitting shriek of interference nearly caused me to fling the object across the room.

I rushed to the kitchen phone. Squealing static.

I tried the living room phone just to be thorough. Static.

It wasn’t until I put the receiver back down that I heard it. Music. Faint, barely audible music that I hadn’t noticed before. It seemed to be some repeating melody… happy and light… some flutes, maybe a whole horn section.

I followed the peppy tune to the in-house door to the garage. Pressing my ear to the door’s dirty surface, I determined that the music was indeed coming from just beyond.

“Sid?” I called out, barely managing to form the name with cold, bloodless lips, “Sid, are you in there? Are you alright?”

I tried the door only to find it somehow locked from the other side. It was no matter, since one wild kick nearly knocked the rotting wood off its hinges.

“SID?” I shouted as the dust slowly cleared.

Through the haze, I could only see the light of a television screen. Vibrant colors. Blue, green, yellow…

Soon, I could make out a cartoon playing on the screen. Then, the silver wires running from the set itself to some dark mass. Then, the dark mass took shape as my eyes adjusted to the odd lighting.

It was Sid… or rather, his body… not dead nearly as long as his parents, seated in an old office chair. The wires from the television set lead directly to his body, eventually disappearing into several old, crusted-over holes his leathery flesh. Through a small worm-eaten opening in his ribs, I thought I could see more metal inside of him.

I walked to Sid’s side, holding my hand over my mouth for fear of vomiting. His face was twisted into a hideous, wide grin… his empty eye sockets almost seemed happy, hooded by a pleased brow line.

“Hi there!” I heard a jarring voice.

The voice was upbeat. High-pitched. It sounded almost like Sid, but… different. Bubbly, cartoony.

I turned to the screen. The green grass, the blue sky, the yellow flowers… and Sid. A perfect caricature of him. It strolled along the infinite loop of that utopian cartoon background.

It waved to me.

“Sid…” I whispered, “Oh God, Sid…”

He… the cartoon version of him… turned his attention away from me and continued to merrily stroll across that unending cycle of the same backdrop. He passed a shrub… then passed it again… and again… The same bluebird, chirping happily, flew through the sky in a figure eight.

“Sid…” I shook my head, unable to comprehend the scenario, “I never should have let you leave reality.”

I thought about what Sid had done to his Mom and Dad. I thought about how the bank would come by soon and this would all come to light. I watched Sid walk along for nearly a half hour.

Then I unplugged the set.

flips-wigs-and-jigs  asked:

What's your dance story? 😄

How do I condense 18 years into one post???

Well, when I was about 5 or 6 my grandparents bought the original Riverdance on VHS and almost every time I went over to their house I would watch it (my grandparents lived really close to us). My brother and I would strip down to our undies and run around mimicking Jean and Michael and Maria, so my mom looked into Irish dancing classes and found some since it was during the ID boom. They had a waiting list so I had to wait about 6 months before I could start.

I loved it. We did a couple of big dance productions during the first 5 or so years, which were SO FUN. I did my first Oireachtas, though, only 2 years after I started (I was novice/PW) because it was close by. I recalled but then stopped in the middle of my set dance so I ended up getting the last place in the recall. Over the years I kept doing progressively well so my parents kept supporting it. Eventually dancers went off to college or quit and our school shrunk and I became one of the few Open dancers left. Even years after getting to Open I would get sick every time I competed and didn’t want to eat beforehand. Once I got on stage I felt like a million bucks, though. Over the years I kept placing higher and higher each year at Oireachtas and would barely miss qualifying for Worlds. I did Nationals once because it was local but didn’t do well. Eventually I jumped up to 5th at Oireachtas and qualified for Worlds.

That Worlds was interesting. I was in a sucky mood for most of the trip because of jet lag and nerves and because I had just torn a ligament in my ankle a few weeks prior. Somehow I recalled, and we were all stoked because no one from my school had ever recalled before. So we modified my set to remove all the rocks and stuff that would be hard for my ankle to handle. Fast forward an hour or two and I’m standing side stage and the worker asks me for my set. I’m pretty sure it was Dan Armstrong, but I didn’t know who he was at the time so I can’t be sure. So he tells me I can’t do Piper at 76 because I have to do a jig set. I’m so confused, because we thought it was at jig speed so we were fine. My TC I guess didn’t realize that wasn’t the case so all of a sudden I’m without a set. Meanwhile the dancer like 3 people ahead of me is on stage so I run out and ask my TC what to do. She says “oh you know plenty of jig sets, just do one of those” (it’s true, I knew all the dances for pretty much everyone in my school and had about 3 versions of Drunken Gauger I could whip out). But the music playing for the other dancers confused me and I literally walked on stage having no clue what I was going to do. I made up the whole thing, somehow did the same thing on both feet (according to my TC), and ended on time. It was such a whirlwind, but apparently I did rocks and some other things that I probably shouldn’t have because adrenaline took over. Crazy, dude. I managed not to get the very last place in the recall, too (I wanna say I got 51st and they placed 54th?).

I did a few more Worlds after that but didn’t recall again, so I gave up on going. Girls who I would beat consistently at Oireachtas and in competitions would recall and medal and here I was, not recalling. So then I focused my efforts instead on improving my Oireachtas placement at least to top 3. I did Nationals twice in Nashville and my highest placement there was 10th, which I was more than satisfied with. I did a few random showy things amidst the few competitions, like co-choregraphed an Irish dance piece with my yoga teacher (the dance dept. head) for the college dance production which was amazingly fun as I absolutely love the stage. I kept competing as I started college, but not much other than Oireachtasi. Then came to a moment where I didn’t know what to do with my life next. I left California to do a semester leadership program and while I was there, I let myself take a break from dance. I met my husband there and so I decided to finish college in Florida near him. There weren’t any schools close by so dance was still pushed back. Before we got married I found out there was a dance school in the city we’d be living in, so I joined them for a workshop and then had a few private lessons when I was in town.

After we got married, I decided to try a competition. I had always wanted to do a competition cold turkey without really training first; this was my chance, so on to Georgia we went. I didn’t want to fuss with a wig so I just left my hair natural (I had done it before but not consistently since my former TCs liked the wig). I remember that treble reel was first and my husband didn’t realize that I was leaving him to go DANCE not to just chill out or something so he missed my winning treble reel, and to this day I know he is extra careful that he won’t miss me dancing XD. Well then for champs I just about DIED. I felt like I had done so horribly. I absolutely petered out at the end of my hard shoe dances and walked the last half of my set dance. I didn’t have a good sense of the competition here or anything and I could tell by the faces on the adjudicators after I finished that they were disappointed in my lack of stamina. Surprise, I won! I freakkkkked out because I didn’t expect it and I had only ever won ONE competition in Open back in the Western region in my many, many years and somehow won without even being any good?! After that, I started doing regular classes and then did a couple of other competitions that fall before Oireachtas. I got serious about it again, but it took a while to get to the point where I felt like I was “normal” again. Though I qualified for Worlds that year I just didn’t have the drive or means to go. So I worked toward Oireachtas the following year. Then a girl joined our school and ended up qualifying for Worlds 2015 with me. So I decided sure, why not, it’s been a few years, it’s on our continent, I’ll go with her and just see how things go.

Getting 11th there made me realize that my “peak days” of Irish dance were by no means behind me. 18-year-old me would have never thought that I’d be where I am today. I get to experience all sorts of new places by competing and meet new dancers I previously wouldn’t have had the opportunity to, which I love. And now I’m coming up on my 15th Oireachtas and my first ever time competing at Great Britains and All Irelands and I couldn’t be more excited about what else is in store. It just goes to show that it’s not too late to work hard and push yourself. I can say now more than ever that I truly believe in myself and what I’m capable of and recognize that the talent God has blessed me with has far surpassed anything I could’ve wished for. God is so good to me, to bless me with things like the right conditions of financial stability, a ridiculously supportive TC, my rock of a husband, and physical health. I’m elated to be doing what I was created to do and getting to share it with others all over the world. Soli Deo gloria, because I wouldn’t be here without Him.