#I just thought 'business pinup' and like

[deoidesign]

Salaries $200 Utilities $150 Rent $800 Sexy little socks $3600 Insurance $150

someone who is good at accounting please help me budget this. my business is failing

(if you're confused my comic explains everything)

[worlds-end-discotheque]

This isn’t a fully finished thought-project yet so please bear with me but I’m pretty sure Cuno is the one paying the bills for the de Ruyter apartment.

Or at least he’s trying to.

When you go into Cuno’s apartment, the first thing you realize is the chain and the warning about the electricity. From what we know about how Cuno protects his shack (and the state of his inebriation-comatose father) we can safely assume that Cuno’s the one who chains the door closed whenever he leaves. Obviously, no one in Martinaise would want to leave their home open for any reason, but the apartments clearly have deadbolts installed in the doors— so the chain is an extra measure. Cuno can’t have anything being stolen, even taking the extra effort beyond confidence in his own intimidation to chain it up.

The apartment has two rooms: Uuno’s bedroom, and the living room. Uuno’s bedroom consists primarily of the bed, the clothes line, presumably a dresser or some end table-like surfaces. Plenty of room for his substances and shit.

The living room has the sofa, which is clearly covered in Cuno’s clothing and a makeshift sleeping setup. The risqué pinup on the wall is basically confirmation that this is Cuno’s “space,” not something that he and his dad alternate or share. The L-Couch is Cuno’s bed, bedroom, and dresser, effectively.

Which leads us to the tiny desk. The items on the desk are minimal, but crucial: Cuno’s speed with the straw, Cuno’s textbook and homework, a lamp, the stack of bills, and an open phone book.

We’ve established already that Cuno and his father do not share space. Cuno is already a territorial kid, established by his limited safe zones in his own home. He wouldn’t leave his damn homework out somewhere where his dad could access it; the fact that the homework exists means that beneath his attitude, Cuno clearly has a deep level of care for his schoolwork and at least a desire to complete it. With how terrified he is of his father, there’s no way in hell Cuno would leave his schoolwork out in a place that his father could damage it or get angry for it. Which essentially confirms that the desk is Cuno’s space only.

The speed has its little straw, making it convenient to sip on consistently while doing work at the desk. (I do this with my water tumbler.) especially if you’re at the desk for a long time. With the open phone book, it’s clear that Cuno is at least trying to find the numbers for the companies that the bills are coming from. It’s not just a pile of mail on the desk— he’s doing research into it. Gathering phone numbers to take outside to one of the payphones. The desk is organized, business-like, unlike anything Cuno is— except for how he deals.

Which leads me to my last bit. Cuno’s insistence on selling you shit. Obviously, the best way for this kid to maintain a steady supply for his own addiction is to be a dealer. However, for a 12-year-old boy with a substance addiction in the world of DE where there’s nothing else to do, that level of self-control is absurdly high. There’s a meticulousness to it that betrays a primary aspect of Cuno’s approach: business. Cuno isn’t doing it for popularity, for “cool” points, and if his focus was only his own addiction then he would likely just steal them, take it all for himself. He’s not supplying his dad, that’s for sure. On top of that, he’s got a side hustle selling clothing and other crap he picks up, enough to try and pitch it to Pigs— repeatedly. There’s a lot to buy off Cuno, and it’s the one thing he repeatedly brings up in dialogue options, aside from insults. He wants you to know he’s willing to do business. He needs the money. Because the bills are stacking up, his dad could die any minute, and now he’s got Cunoesse too. (It’s not confirmed if she stays in the apartment with him, and I’m inclined to think not, considering the chain, his fear of her too and the fact that she stands on the other side of the fence than him— there’s a special separation there. There’s also no trace of Cunoesse-noted belongings nor a second space to sleep indicated on the couch; shivers, empathy, none of the skills speak up when inside the apartment about anyone but Cuno and his dad. At the same time, this is again unconfirmed).

I lost what I was talking about here, but the point is. Cuno breaks my heart and I want to adopt and take care of him so badly. It’s one thing to be a delinquent kid, it’s another to be a 12-year-old delinquent kid trying to pay your own damn bills in Martinaise. Fuck, man. I love this kid so much. He breaks my heart.

As much as I yap about my old man yaoi, I think Cuno is my favorite character in DE. He’s just… I need to take care of him. God help me. I wanted to kill his dad so badly. Sigh.

Anyways. That was my thought project. Thought Cabinet just adopted Cunology.

[seangelfish]

"Just hold onto me, okay?"

Izumi Sena x Reader ♡ Tags: Fluff, mutual crush, she/her pronouns ♡ Word count: 2,444 ♡ Synopsis: Inspired by the gacha story Dance on Ice in which this card is featured in. Reader is a soloist idol that has also acquired a photoshoot at the same ice rink Knights was having theirs at. However, you haven't ice skated before, so Izumi lends you a hand. ♡ A/N: I need more Izumi x reader fics.

"Hm, what? Were you guys looking for me?" asked Leo curiously.

"Not the two of us; just Anzu," Izumi stated. "She says she needs to talk to you about work. She already told me what it was about, but I can't make a decision on my own, right?"

Leo laughed. "Well, it's only natural for the leader to make decisions. So, what kind of work is it?"

Anzu explained that the work she had for them was a pinup photoshoot for a magazine in which the theme was 'Knights on Ice.' Since the theme was geared towards Knights, Izumi suggested that they should take on the offer. Leo agreed on how convenient the offer was to them, and to be on ice would perhaps spark inspiration for new music.

"Naru-kun has skating experience and Kuma-kun will probably be fine too. I'm not sure about Kasa-kun, but I can teach him if he doesn't know how to skate," Izumi rambled on. "Ou-sama, can you skate? It'll be embarrassing if you slip awkwardly. Do you want me to teach you along with Kasa-kun?"

Leo rejected his offer, stating how he has crossed and walked on ice before. "Oh, since we're going ice skating though," he began. "Shouldn't you ask (Y/N) if she wants to join?"

"We're going to be at the rink for work," said Izumi. "We aren't there to have fun."

But the mention of your name did make him think of whether to bring you along. Izumi knew how much you have always wanted to try ice skating, but since you were a soloist at Yumenosaki which took up all of your time working on perfecting your performances, you never really had the time to try out the activities you've always wanted to do.

Leo pointed a finger at him. "You know you want to, Sena! Come on, the client won't even be mad if we bring her along. She's (Y/N) (L/N) after all!"

Izumi flicked his hand away. "I know how much everyone's trying to get their hands on her," he said with a tone of annoyance in his voice. "...I'll think about it."

"Hahaha, so that's a yes then!" cheered Leo before realising that the two have been excluding Anzu in their conversation. "Oh, don't worry, Anzu. You won't get in trouble if we bring (Y/N) along. She actually knows the client very well, seeing that she keeps getting constant job offers, hahaha!"

"Anzu, you could come into the kotatsu instead of standing there like that," said Izumi before continuing on the subject at hand. "But if it does bother you, then we won't bring her–"

"Oh no, it's nothing like that," she said with a light chuckle. "I also got her a photoshoot at the rink too!"

Izumi was actually excited upon hearing those words. The next day, when he arrived at the ice rink, he scanned the area all over for you. Though, he wasn't only looking for you, but for Leo and Ritsu too.

Irked by their absence, Izumi sighed. "I've already given Ou-sama a warning, so I thought he'd be fine... He said he doesn't forget about the important things, but it has completely slipped his mind..."

Tsukasa went off to go find Leo whilst Anzu offered to find Ritsu. Izumi knew that Arashi had a photoshoot before this, so he wasn't too worried about her. But where were you? Anzu had informed him that your photoshoot was set an hour before his, so you would’ve been finished with it, right?

He would’ve called you, but he didn’t want to disturb you if you were still busy. Though, he sent you a text, hoping that you’d read it soon.

“Since we’re here at the ice rink, I guess I’ll warm up,” he muttered to himself.

Izumi kicked off his heel as he started to slide through the ice with grace. He circled the rink effortlessly, performing beautiful tricks with ease.

You watched him quietly from behind the barrier. Your photoshoot hadn’t even started despite it being booked an hour before. Since you told the client you didn’t know how to skate, they gave you an extra hour to learn which would’ve been nice of them, but they specifically said, “Alright, teach yourself then. We don’t have all day.”

This was the first time you’d ever dealt with a rude client, so your usual happy-go-lucky mood had shifted to a gloomy one. However, watching Izumi skate so elegantly made all those bad feelings go away.

You were amazed at how beautiful he looked as he skated. He was light on his feet, his movements mesmerising. You could watch him all day, but you knew you had to practise your own skills before you had to go back to your photoshoot.

Izumi wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings whenever he skated, he was only focusing on himself in that moment, but when he caught a glimpse of your silhouette, he immediately came to a stop.

His eyes lit up and his lips curled into a genuine smile. There you were.

“(Y/N),” he exclaimed. “I was wondering where you were. You must be finished with your photoshoot, right? So, why didn’t you reply to my message?”

You smiled at him sheepishly. “I… haven’t even started with my shoot,” you admitted. “…I don’t know how to skate after all, so they told me to go practise—”

“Wait, they didn’t have someone on the team to teach you?” he asked with concern in his voice.

“No… they told me to teach myself… I have an hour to do so.”

Izumi’s smile was wiped off his face. He had experience within the fashion industry and with modelling, so he knew how unprofessional it was for your client to not teach you how to skate let alone leave you to do it yourself.

He couldn’t believe that you were already having trouble with your client. He never wanted you to experience anything like that at work even if it was inevitable.

He was going to speak to the staff on your behalf right after he was finished.

But right now, he was going to teach you how to ice skate.

“Alright, get in the rink,” he said, skating towards the entrance. “I’ll teach you.”

You instantly smiled at these words, but you were still pretty nervous. You haven’t ice skated before and you were scared of falling. Falling in front of Izumi would be embarrassing too even if you two were close friends.

“You should’ve called me beforehand since Ou-sama and Kuma-kun aren’t here yet,” he continued. “But it’s okay, I can teach you how to skate in twenty– fifteen minutes.”

You hesitated. Your hands gripped onto the barrier as you tried to get into the rink, but couldn’t due to how frightened you were.

This is so embarrassing, you thought. I can’t even get in…

Izumi stretched a hand in front of you. “Don’t be afraid. Come over here,” he said gently with a smile on his face. “Just hold onto me, okay?”

You nodded, taking his hand as you entered the rink. He took your other hand in his as he glided you across.

You held his hands tight which stung him a bit. “(Y/N), relax. I won’t let you fall.”

“B-But this is scary!” you fretted, your grip tightening even more. “Izumi, please don’t let go of me…!”

“I wasn’t planning to,” he stated. "Alright, look straight ahead. Don't look at your feet even if you're scared. If you can't help it, then just focus on me."

You lifted your head a bit and locked eyes with him. His blue eyes mimicked the background the two of you were in right now. Despite how blue and icy his eyes looked, there was some warmness in them as they looked at you.

You blushed and instantly looked away.

"Ah, no. Don't look away!"

You couldn't help it. You were holding hands with him and now you were looking into his eyes? It seemed like the two of you were a couple with how close you two were together.

"People are going to take this the wrong way..." you muttered.

"So? Why not let them think that way?"

"...What?"

Izumi shook his head. "Let's get on with the lessons, okay?" As he kept hold of your hands, he taught you how to skate by bending your knees to keep your balance, then using your body weight from one side to the other to start moving.

He taught you how to glide and to stroke. It was difficult at first, but you were improving really fast. Midway through your session with him, you were getting the hang of it, but the two of you still kept your grip on each other's hands.

"Haha, this is so fun!" you chirped happily as the two of you skated around the rink together.

Izumi smiled. "See, it wasn't too bad, was it?" he said. "You're doing great... as expected from you."

"Thanks to you, of course!" Your fingers began to lock with his. "Izumi, thank you for teaching me, I really do appreciate it."

"Of course, anything for you," he replied, mumbling the last part of his sentence so you wouldn't pick it up.

"Now, let's spin!"

"Wait, what–"

You pulled your body weight to make the two of you start spinning. Unfortunately, since you were still a beginner, it did not work, so Izumi had to try to steady you both again before either of you fell.

"(Y/N)!" he exclaimed. "You're always like this..."

"S-Sorry, I got too carried away..."

"If you wanted to spin, then you should've let me do it."

Izumi had let go of one of your hands but kept a soft grip on the other. He brought you closer to him and then lifted your hand to twirl you around.

It was a short twirl, but it had excited you. It made you incredibly happy that even his cheeks were tinted with a soft pink colour.

"Haha, that was so cute!" you beamed. "Let's do it again, please?"

Izumi just couldn't say no to you, so he twirled you again, and you looked beautiful. Even with the coat hanging over you, you looked beautiful to him. Your eyes glistened as you looked at him, and he fell for you all over again.

"Again!" you squealed.

"Don't you have a photoshoot to be getting ready for?" he said with a slight smirk. "Our lessons were over once you started spinning us around."

"Oh, right! My photoshoot!"

Izumi sighed. You reminded him so much of Leo, but at least you didn't cause trouble.

"Have a good photoshoot," he told you, lifting your hand up to his lips before planting a soft kiss. "I'll be here waiting for you once you come back."

Your cheeks were hot even when the rest of your body was cold, yet you couldn't stop smiling.

"Izumi..."

"Off you go then."

Your hands parted from his even if the two of you didn't want it to.

You waved him a short goodbye before skating back to your preparation team. He watched you trail off as you began to get ready, slipping off your coat to reveal the dress you were hiding underneath. You really were breathtaking.

"I found Leader," said Tsukasa as he began to berate the Knights' leader on why he kept getting lost every single time they needed him. Anzu was dragging a coffin in which Izumi assumed Ritsu was sleeping inside.

Once Ritsu woke up, Izumi informed the staff that they were all here. Arashi had been waiting inside for them for a while now.

"I didn't know (Y/N) was doing a photoshoot here as well..." Arashi whispered into Izumi's ear. "She's pretty, isn't she?"

Izumi flinched at this, but calmed down almost immediately.

"Let's just do a good job, okay?" he said.

Your photoshoot lasted longer than you expected, but you preformed well especially since you had help from Izumi earlier. The client was a little bit nicer to you this time, but even if they continued to be rude, you wouldn't let it get to you. Nothing could sour your mood now once Izumi left a kiss on the back of your hand.

Knights were finished with their photoshoots too, even the one where they competed against UNDEAD.

You skated towards the crowd, waving your hands at them to notice you.

"Ah, here comes (Y/N)-chan~" sang Arashi, teasing her silver-haired friend. "Uwa~ her dress is sooo cute~!"

But before Izumi could reply to her, you had slipped. "(Y/N)!" cried Izumi, rushing towards you.

"Ow... ow..." you hissed. I guess I'm still not cut out for this after all.

"You okay?" he asked you worriedly, crouching down on the ice as he lifted your back. "Nothing's broken, I hope?"

"N-No, I'm fine," you replied. "Although this IS kind of embarrassing... I was hoping not to fall today and I was doing so well..."

Izumi chuckled as he leaned down closer to you, hugging you ever so slightly. You were surprised by this affection, but you weren't complaining. You rested your head on his chest, finding comfort in his grasp.

"You did do well and I am so proud of you."

You grinned up at him. "I like it when you're like this," you began. "You could be so sweet..."

"Haha, alright. Let's get you up," he said, noticing how much you were shivering. However, you kept him in place before the others could check up on you two.

"Izumi."

"Hmm?"

"I like you so much."

Now it was his turn for him to turn red. Hehe, revenge, you thought. But you weren't lying when you told him you liked him – you really did like him. You wanted to hold hands with him again, to be within his comfort again.

"I like you too, (Y/N). I always have."

[Extra]

Izumi didn't inform you about this, but he did speak with your client before your photoshoot officially started. He berated them on how unprofessional they were with you, and how they should've had someone on the team to help you with skating instead of leaving it to your own hands.

He didn't want you to experience any more rudeness from them as he knew you wouldn't be able to stand up for yourself. It was one of the ways he wanted to protect you, and it worked because you couldn't stop smiling at him throughout the rest of the day.

Hand in hand, the two of you left the ice rink together with Knights, your fingers interlocked with each other.

Intro page | Ensemble Stars masterlist | Rules

[princess-of-the-corner]

Bewitching Hour - All Might?

K, so. Not sure why THIS got the plot bunnies moving. But it did, so. Onward, I guess?

I’m assuming Midnight’s big thing, with these shoots and pinups is body positivity. Especially cause they live in a world where body types can be EXTREMELY diverse. But you also want people to be comfortable, so everything is suggestions. You can pick or choose what to do. There is also minimal touch up to the pictures afterward. What you see is what you get, unless someone makes a request.

Best Jeanist, of course, only wears denim. Gang Orca’s is styled as a swimsuit issue. Mount Lady did a bunch of shots in a miniaturized set, like they use for old Godzilla movies. Kamui Woods was extremely shy about it, jokingly suggested he hide in all the photos, but Midnight thought that was hilarious. She worked that in, and his issue turned into a “Where’s Kamui Woods?” with the hero hidden among nature. The first person to find him in every photo and send it in got some sort of gift card, and a signed autograph.

But All Might’s never had an issue. And I’d argue not for lack of interest.

All Might was probably like “yeah, that sounds neat”, and agreed, but he’s always fairly busy. I see him agreeing to a shoot, then it would get interrupted by some crisis that NEEDS All Might, so he has to cancel part way through. So they reschedule, then THAT shoot gets interrupted, and the cycle repeats a few times. Heck, Bewitching Hour probably isn’t the only magazine something like that has happened for. And Midnight isn’t going to just publish what she has, there needs to be input, so she has all these pictures of All Might at various stages of his hero career, but nothing connecting them.

So, here’s my thought.

After Kamino and everything else, Midnight approaches All Might again. They have a good talk, and when the next Bewitching Hour issue comes out, it’s All Might. It’s a series of pictures that they’ve taken before, that they bought from other magazines, basically documenting his whole career, ending with a few VERY good shots of Yagi Toshinori. The final is Yagi in a version of his hero suit that actually fits his more skeletal frame, doing his iconic “I AM HERE!”.

The issue sells out within the week, and needs to be reprinted.

-

YES

YES YES YES

Also I want you to imagine the limbo of terror Izuku ‘I must collect every bit of All Might merch/memorabilia that exists even if I have to steal it off a dead guy before the body even cools’ Midoriya looking at this issue of Bewitching Hour and having a holy fuckin debate with himself over whether to get it or not.

also swinging back!

The magazine is 100% body positivity! Midnight refuses to do any kind of touchups to make someone look more ‘aesthetically pleasing’. It is done to the person’s comfort level of how much they want to show off.

[icycoldninja]

Fluffcember #5: Dante x Reader

Picnic

You frowned thoughtfully, biting your lip as you stared down at the array of foodstuffs that lay on the table before you. Today was the weekend; you were packing a picnic for yourself and Dante--the latter was nowhere to be seen at the moment. "That's good," You thought to yourself. "Gives me time to prepare the food without him butting in." As you were painfully aware, Dante was a foodie. A huge foodie. The moment he caught wind of an appetizing dish, he would track the scent like a dog until he found it's source; a quirk that often hindered your attempts to make surprise meals for him. However, today was a completely different day! Dante was "busy" at Devil May Cry, most likely browsing through pinup magazines or chatting away to the others rather than doing work, but who cared? He was out of the house, which gave you time to pack your picnic. The dishes you'd prepared were all of Dante's favorites:Four pepporoni pizzas with NO olives, strawberry sundaes (in a cooler, obviously), and Coca Colas. Nodding satisfactorily to yourself, you carefully plastic-wrapped the pizzas and loaded them into the picnic "basket", which was more of a large plastic container than a basket, double checked the cooler to make sure the lid was on right and the ice packs inside hadn't warmed up yet, and loaded everything into your car. The preparations had been made--all you had to do now was get Dante himself to come with you and the picnic day would offically kick off. You pulled out your phone and dialed Dante's number. "Heya, babe," Came the greeting. "Hi, Dante." You responded, smiling in anticipation. "Can you meet me at the park at lunchtime?" Dante chuckled, "Yeah, sure. I'll see ya there." After a brief goodbye, the both of you hung up and you drove yourself (and the picnic) to the park so you'd have a little more time to set up and get things looking just so.

A while later, at lunchtime, you'd finished setting up all the food on a checkered tablecloth on the ground. You sat there, smiling at how tasty it all looked. "Dante's gonna be so happy," You thought, imagining how his pretty blue eyes would light up with excitement when he saw his favorite food--and so much of it--laid out for his enjoyment. You were so lost in your daydreaming, you didn't notice the white-haired devil slayer creep up behind you and wrap his strong arms around your waist, pulling you in for a hug. "What's a gorgeous thing like you doing outside, all alone, without someone to keep you company?" You laughed, leaned into the hug and smiled up at him. "I have a surprise for you." Dante's brow crinkled in curiosity. "Oh really? Like what?" You shimmied out of his grip and gestured to the spread before you two. "Behold! Pizza!" At the sight of those delicious pizza pies, Dante's demonic instincts clicked in. "Aw yeah, pizza!" He cried, practically leaping over you to get to the food. "You have no idea how hungry I am right now!" He seized a slice of pizza and crammed it into his mouth, still talking in between chewing. "You're a lifesaver, babe-" He paused to swallow, then snatched a bottle of Coca Cola from the cooler and guzzled it. "A real lifesaver. I love you." You couldn't help but giggle, watching the way your wacky boyfriend gobbled up pizza and soda the way a dog would consume tasty meat. "I love you too, Dante," You chuckled, taking a bite out of some pizza yourself. "I really do." But of course, Dante didn't hear you--he was way too busy scarfing down a big bowl full of strawberry ice cream and LOTS of whipped cream.

[clone-whore-99]

Hello! I've recently joined The Bad Batch fandom on Tumblr and came across your blog and several others. I'm really enjoying your posts and those spicy fics 🥵

I was wondering what your thoughts are on the clone's canonical sex drive. Do you think sex ever crosses their minds? Or if they would have any drive for it at all? Obviously, they're all very "manly," so I assume they have enough testosterone, but they have the whole "we're soilders" and "the mission comes first" mentality, so I'm unsure. Maybe it was taken out of the genes to make them better soldiers? Or maybe Jango just wasn't that type of guy, so neither are they?

I'm just curious about your thoughts since you seem to know a lot.

Have a lovely day 🥰

Hi anon!

Thank you so much for writing and for loving my posts ❤

I do believe the clones canonically has a sex drive, though it varies a lot. Like, really busy clones such as Rex and Cody, who are almost always away on mission, I feel like their sex drive won't be that high, since they are busy with the war and all that

However, with clones who aren't literally running from one battle to the other, I feel like they would have a normal sex drive. This is basically based on all the posters of pinup ladies a lot of them has, how they would talk about women (Ex: "So I says to her, baby you and I -" "You've never even met a girl!" from season 3 episode 1) and just their general demeanor

I can't say for sure if this is canon or not, but I do recall discussing with some friends, who had read that the kaminoans originally wanted to remove the clones sex drive, but found them to be worse soldiers as a result, so they quit that modification and instead went "don't go fucking people" instead, but since they also told the clones that they had to look alike and the second they left kamino they dyed their hair and got tattoos, we all know how they took that

I don't know enough about Jango to say whether or not he had a sex drive, all I know is that he's "just a simple man making his way through the galaxy"

I hope this answered your question and wasn't like completely off by 2345331 miles, if it was or if you want to know more about my thoughts on stuff/ideas/headcanons/whatever, please feel free to ask any second! I may not be fast to answer, but I will do my best ❤

Love you ❤

[words-etched-in-her-skin]

ok so, ik i havent been on here in literal ages but i got really busy with classes this semester, but im hoping i'll be able to talk a lil more often cuz im on break now! and i have good news about my finals and my swim class earlier in the summer! i passed my art history and my illustration classes with B's (no clue what i got for my animation class but we move on) and for my swim class i can mostly do front strokes (still cant figure out how to take a breath yet but im sure i'll figure that out next summer!) i also found out that, while i hat floating on my back, i seem to not mind it as much if im moving! i think one of the things that helped me was imagining sal there with me, staying close by and making sure i was ok, sometimes putting her hand under me to help gently push me up a little more or gently pushing the top of my head a little more under the water so i can float better. i think she'd be super proud of the progress i made!

also, i finally got around to drawing a spicy sketch of alcina (and me and a couple of my oc's djjd). its not exactly a pinup but its def something spicy. i used different colors for everyone so i can see which parts belonged to who. the blue harpy girl is andromeda, the octopus mermaid is ruby, and then theres me in between the lady's legs! still have to finish it, but so far so good! (still need to do a pinup of just alcina tho... but i did see a couple really pretty rennaisence paintings that i could try to put her in too, i just need to pick which one i like more.... leaning a little bit to the "venus of urbino" painting cuz it vibes with her a lot shdb

Hello, there, dear! I hope this break treats you well and congratulations on the grades 😊♥️ And that is really fucking cute, honestly. Sal would love to know the thought of her being by your side was able to help you with that 🥺 And she'd absolutely be proud, dear 😁 Also, Sal would be a really hot great swimming coach (Sal swim coach AU when? 👀🤣)

And ooooooooh 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀 Very nice, indeed 👀 A blue harpy, you say? 👀 Also, a renaissance style pin up of Lady D sounds fucking incredible, ngl! Like, please do share if end up doing anymore, yeah? 👀 For science, of course.. extremely gay science 👀

[acsnowpinup]

Is there anything you really miss about this time in your life?

Thanks for the wonderfully deep question.

I wish I had a deep answer. I definitely miss the free time and the lower cost of living. We could afford to take little getaways like once a month on the weekends and have a lot of romantic getaways. Now, life’s expensive and we are so, so busy.

One thing I do wish, was that the young woman I was could’ve loved herself more, seen herself as pretty and sexy. That she would’ve embraced her sensuality more.

My husband always said I was a better photographer than he is and I should become a modern Bunny Yeager. Taking boudoir photos and posing for self portraits. But I couldn’t find it on me to do this “seriously”.

But , these pictures were taken as a kind of role play. I could play the sexy pinup, and pretend to Bunny, or Betty or June Palmer or Ann Austin. But , it was just an act. Or so I thought.

Now, I guess I love myself better, and I’ve embraced my sensuality more holistically…and I kinda wish I would have done that back then.

(And my hubby is one hell of pinup photographer, I think.)

[blackclothed]

your soul ripped from your stomach

Part of the reason this house caught Siggy’s eye was the bathtub. It is enormous, at least he thought it was before he had been around so many rich people that his definition of luxury became less childlike. The tub is built into the wall rather than freestanding. It has counter space aplenty for his basket of soaps and candles that have never been lit, and the tub itself has jets that he rarely uses but likes that they are there. There is a frosted window poised above for natural light, but Siggy always preferred artificial. Besides, it is 2 o’clock in the morning and far too dark for the sun to kiss his bathroom.

He watches the water climb higher, crystal clear and rippling with the pounding of the faucet. The dull roaring fills his ears, and he watches. He should get undressed. He is wearing a velvet black dress with sleeves to the wrist and a cutoff at his upper thigh. A jeweled necklace is balanced on his collar with matching earrings and a ring. He is even still wearing his heels.

Finally, he tears his gaze from the water just as it reaches the brim and shuts it off. The silence falls over him, thick and tangible, so uncomfortable he wishes to throw it off. He tosses an instinctual, nervous glance over his shoulder and greets his reflection, done up in dark eye makeup to match the shadows cast beneath his eyes. He hasn’t slept in two days. He will not sleep tonight.

Give me another chance, please! I swear I wasn’t stealing from you— I-I was going to make it up on my end, I just need a little more time—

There is a muffled tap as he submerges his heel in the water. He sinks, fully clothed, beneath the surface, water rushing over the side and splattering onto the floor. The soothing heat engulfs him. He groans, lanky fingers scrubbing half of his face and comb back black hair. His hand comes away smudged with makeup and trembling slightly. It’s too quiet. The silence is so sharp it could draw blood.

He remedies this quickly, tapping his phone smeared with bathwater until it starts to fill the room with music and saw away at that uncomfortable sharpness. He cracks his neck, then fishes around in the basket perched beside the tub until he withdraws a half-full pack of cigarettes and a cheap plastic lighter. He hates that lighter, vastly inferior to his favorite zippo engraved with a pinup girl, but it does the job.

He leans his head back, hooking an arm behind him and blows a thin stream of smoke into the air.

He doesn’t regret what he did tonight, but he feels like he is dying. His ruthlessness is about survival really. Survival of their business, yes, but more importantly, himself. What use would he be if he started acting soft? Second chances are not productive for this sort of infraction, so he will not give them. Ever. That’s why he’s been trusted with so much responsibility— he will demand agony of others to save himself. And until he forgets how to do that, then he will live. Well… he won’t be killed by his own people. That’s the best he can hope for.

The hand holding the cigarette between index and middle is trembling worse now. He swallows, throat tight and fumbles pushing the thing back between his lips.

That doesn’t mean the screams don’t rattle between his ears and scrape like nails over his skin. These walls are supposed to muffle them. If he is in the belly of this empty home, concealed from eyes and words, all the noises are supposed to become distant. They aren’t.

He screws the tips of his fingers into his eyes, smearing his makeup.

The man’s eyes are engraved on the inside of his own, wide and scared and an exact reflection of himself two years ago. Siggy didn’t even flinch in the moment. He didn’t feel sympathy lashing within him like he used to before this was his job, when he only was one who watched. He cannot comprehend why it feels like there are bullet wounds festering in his soul.

There is nothing to distract him. He turns the music up. He has nothing to fill this awful void that screams and reeks and rots him from the inside out. He is so tired. His cigarette is burning, the heat of embers whispering against his fingers, but he doesn’t smoke it. He throws it into the tub and clutches his head in his hands as if the halves of his skull might slide apart if he doesn’t.

That is when he hears the noise.

He freezes, head snapping toward the direction of the sound before remembering his music. He quickly seizes his phone and fumbles with the volume button until he is again drenched in iron-heavy silence.

He heard it. He knows he did. And as he waits, he hears it again. It is a distant thump downstairs, and the chill that rushes down his spine crawls into the marrow of his bones, and he freezes in place, unable to breathe, or move. He listens for it again, wide eyed, and he knows he hears it, but his thoughts are doused in an icy panic.

Someone is coming. Someone got past the front door. They have a gun, or a knife, and they’re going to make him pay for what he did tonight. They’ll fill him with holes or gut him like a prey animal and let the ocean swallow his ugly corpse. He’ll be found behind a dumpster, stiff and glassy eyed. All of this is if he is lucky. They might let him live, but bring with them a rope and drugs, and that would be so much worse.  

He should have known the man that died tonight might have friends and that they would find out, track Siggy down, get past his security. It feels obvious now that it was a poor decision to remain alone here— he never even considered that he might need extra security for the next few days, or even weeks. But it’s far too late now. Someone is in his house!

This is recompense for his blatant, countless sins. They coat his body like a disease, and someone is coming to burn him to ash, to cleanse this wretched home.  

It takes him longer than it should to crack open his stupor and snatch up his phone once more. His hand is shaking badly as he calls Gummy, and as he connects his voice is a childlike whisper, tight with fear.

“Someone’s here! Someone’s here, please come quickly— they’re downstairs!”

“Someone’s in your house? I’m coming. Stay on the phone.”

Burning tears prick at his dark hues and begin to slide down his face. Air is locked in his lungs, and he cannot breathe except in wheezes. Gummy will never get here before his killer climbs the stairs, and what is Siggy to do? Wait for them to find him?

“There’s a gun in your bedside drawer, Siggy.” The stern voice on the other end reminds him, as if reading his thoughts. “Take it and wait for me.”

He nods, forgetting in his blind, white-hot fear that Gummy cannot see this confirmation. He rises from the tub, wincing at the dripping noises, but climbs out as quickly as he can. He rushes from the tile to the carpeted floor of his bedroom and throws himself at the bedside table. He yanks the drawer open and seizes the gun, clutching it to his chest.

His gaze falls to the doorknob. He isn’t convinced locking it would do him much good, but leaving it unlocked is worse, so he hurries toward it and twists the lock into place.

Tears are rushing in droves now, tracing black lines down his cheeks and dripping down his chin. He backs into his closet, shutting the door so he is engulfed in blackness. A whimper escapes to rupture the silence.

“Stay calm, I’m on my way.”

“Hurry!Hurry, please!”

The minutes crawl by, disguising themselves as hours. His whole body is shivering, dripping, terror so intense lancing through his veins that he is incapable of moving at all. The noises grow closer, right outside the closet door. He did not hear them picking the lock and entering the bedroom, but they must have done so! He cries, chest stuttering with panic, noiseless sobs behind his lips pressed tight together. His index is hooked over the trigger of the gun. The handle is hot and coated in a layer of sweat beneath his palm.

Gummy remains on the line with him as he enters the house. He remains on the line as he listens to Siggy’s insistence that the intruders are now in his bedroom and breaks open the door to search. He lets Siggy stay hidden in the closet while he goes back downstairs and scours every inch of the house. Then he does it a second time.

“There’s no one here, Siggy.” His voice is unaccusatory. “I’m coming back upstairs.”

Siggy says nothing. A profound numbness rather than relief leaks through his veins. He is not ashamed of the false alarm, not when it’s just Gummy who has witnessed this evident lapse in composure. He presses the end call button without another word.

He clicks the safety back into place and sets the gun down. He realizes now that it wasn’t even loaded. He wonders if Gummy intentionally didn’t remind him to load it— he did last time. He must think Siggy is losing it. He leans his head against the back wall of the closet, closing his eyes as the last remaining tears slide down cheeks streaked with makeup.

The closet door swings open and Gummy, immense and foreboding is silhouetted in the doorway.

Siggy looks up at him, saying nothing. He does not need the order.

Gummy approaches, crouching down in front of him. He first checks the gun, looking to unload the bullets only to find there are none in the chamber. Then he wraps his arms around Siggy, one beneath his legs and the other behind his back and lifts him.

“You think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t.”

He crosses the bedroom to return to the bathroom. Siggy hears his boots splash in the layer of water painted all over the tile.

“You should. I keep calling you here over nothing.”

Gummy sets him down and begins to undo his necklace.

“You’re scared. That’s reasonable.”

The necklace is placed on the sink, followed by each of his earrings.

“Why do you take me so seriously every time I call? I know you think it’s not real.”

“I don’t know that it’s not real. Lift your arms.”

Siggy obeys, allowing the sopping dress to be raised over his head. He seems for a moment, unsure what to do with it before deciding to place it in the sink. He looks to Siggy for confirmation that this is fine.

Siggy waves a shivering hand. “You haven’t even asked why I’m soaked.”

“Why are you soaked?” He asks, crouching down to gently remove each of Siggy’s heels.

“I drew a bath but didn’t get undressed. But that’s not the point. You saw I was wet and sitting in my closet and didn’t even blink. You think I’m crazy.”

Gummy ducks for a moment into the cabinet beneath the sink and withdraws a towel. He proceeds to envelope Siggy in the fluffy halves, using the corner to wipe the makeup from his cheeks.

“Hm, your eyeliner isn’t really coming off.”

“I don’t care. Do I look like I care?”

Gummy ignores this and scoops him back up, carrying his now dry and unclothed employer back to the bedroom.

He sets Siggy on the edge of the bed and then opens the dresser to fish out an old, oversized band t-shirt and boxers. He murmurs again for Siggy to raise his arms and tucks the shirt down over his bare waist, then pulls on his boxers.

“Are you comfortable?” Gummy asks, hands finding purchase upon either of Siggy’s shoulders.

Siggy blinks, casting weary eyes up at him. Defensiveness lashes within him, too frustrated and frightened by his own confusion to admit it, but what Gummy thinks of him is something he can latch on to. He can sink his nails into it and be cruel, feel justified in his anger toward someone other than himself. So, he does so.

“You think I’m crazy.” He echoes his words from before, this time a growl.

It angers him that Gummy’s expression does not change.

“Say something.” Siggy says, nails curling around Gummy’s collar and bunching the fabric into his fist.

“I don’t know what to say.” Finally, a ripple floats across that flat mask of his, but what Siggy reads this ripple to mean startles him. It is pity, clear as a brilliant blue sky. “I don’t think you’re crazy.”  

Siggy’s eyes are wide, bloodshot with tears and sleeplessness. He releases Gummy’s collar and instead finds himself reaching out, barely aware of himself, as if he attempts to grasp this drop of emotion and observe it between his hands. His fingers hover just above Gummy’s cheek.

“You pity me?”

Gummy says nothing.

Siggy’s expression shatters into something frightened and childlike. The crying returns, and he does not know why. His nose runs, and suddenly emotion bleeds from the cleaved halves of his soul. It is black and ugly and gushing between his shaking fingers that cannot hope to stifle it. It reeks of the terror woven through his bones and mixed with his blood.

A hand smooths back his hair and he finds himself pressed against a broad chest, shushing noises whispered against his crown. He is eased against the mattress, a thick comforter tucked over his form, curled upon itself. And Gummy holds him close.

“Am I going to die?” His murmur is muffled between sobs that coalesce against Gummy’s heart.

“Not while I’m around.”

A shuddering breath. “Are you lying?”

“No.”

He does not know if he believes him, but his fraying mind has little choice but to trust that this is true

[zeemczed]

I would love to know the cast thoughts about Sarah's wizard comic and their own counterparts. (Besides the fact Ashley would write fanfics about it. Because that just fell like a given.)

In that particular AU...

-Ashley loves it, yes. She isn't in the comic much yet, but that will change in time.

-Susan is Sarah's most vocal fan and helps her run the business end of the comic (as they're dating in this AU).

-Elliot insists that the twins aren't him. They're puppies and he's a cat person.

-Ellen has similar thoughts about being a werewolf, but ignores it because Bard!Ellen is - in her words - "Sexy awesome".

-Justin is just glad that Sarah gave Vampire!Justin two awesome boyfriends.

-Tedd has mixed feelings about The Archmage Tess, but is generally very supportive. Less because of gender, more because of sticky bits that would take far too long to get into here - tiny parts of characterization that some people would miss.

-Grace ships the whole cast together. Naturally. She's also constantly pushing Sarah to include more "sexy stuff", which Sarah is resistant to (the comic being, like El Goonish Shive, firmly mired in PG-13 territory).

-Diane has mixed feelings about being a semi-villainous fair folk, but she likes the rest of the comic enough to give it a pass.

-Rhoda... has not read it yet. Somehow. She keeps meaning to, and the parts she's read are GOOD, but - this weekend! She promises!

-Catalina is on Sarah's Patreon for the comic and keeps requesting saucy Rhoda pinups.

[unladielike]

@dis--parity​

Of course Alex was going to come through for Vivian on her special day; she knew Vivian didn't really want much more than to spend the day with her, and that's exactly what she'd do - but it wouldn't be right for her to not get her anything more.

It wasn't as much as she might be used to, sure - a new shirt with the troublesome tag carefully removed, various brightly-coloured candy that seemed to have some packaged in a bottle, and... what seems to be a calendar full of pinups of boys from some manner of otome game. God knows where she got it...

"I- I know I've been busy recently, and- and so I haven't... really had much time for you. And I'm sorry for that, but, I cleared my schedule just for today, so I'm all yours!" In spite of the somberness of her apology, the spring soon returns to her step as she hops towards Vivian to pull her into a hug. "How about we go see a movie and then go to that fancy burger place? I- I wanted to wait until I could go there with you, and... hey, no time like the present, right?"

                     VIVIAN'S BIRTHDAY BASH. always accepting!

    Honestly, Vivian was never the type to ask for much, so she’s perfectly content with the  birthday merchandise Alex had offered her; after all, it wasn’t the quality of the gift that mattered, but the fact the person giving it to her had actually thought about her. Why, when it came down to it, someone could give her a McDonald’s Happy Meal and she would still be a happy camper... but out of all the gifts, Vivian’s favourite was definitely the calendar, meaning Alex could bet she would be hanging it up on her bedroom wall once she got back home later.

    Regardless, she’ll soon shake her head with a soft smile stretched along her lips as her girlfriend apologizes. “Don’t be, Lexy! I mean... I’ve been off, adventuring through Chiba without you, so who am I to complain about you being busy? Besides, we chat often, don’t we? Sure, it might not have been in person, but I wasn’t that lonely,” Vivian then reasons. Why, even while they were apart, she had Hayate and everyone else she befriended to distract her, so all things considered, she fared pretty well; either way, it doesn’t take for her to wind her own arms around Alex’s back.

    “Sure, that sounds fun! You’ll have to pick the movie, though, because I don’t know what’s currently out in Vancouver,” she states while burying her chin against her shoulder. The more she thought about burgers, though, the more her stomach would soon grumble, and within seconds, Vivian finds herself salivating.

     “Man, does that routine have to be in absolute order? Because I’m feeling awfully peckish right now.” ...Needless to say, someone certainly had her priorities straight.

[hldailyupdate]

Exclusive: Harry Styles Shares the Meaning Behind His New Album, 'Harry's House'

On his new album, Harry Styles explores themes of belonging, peace, and discovering domestic bliss wherever you can find it.

Looking back, it was undoubtedly risky suggesting to meet Harry Styles, the global music megastar, the apple of so many millions of eyes, at a public open-air swimming pool in London on an unusually sunny March morning—right when people were bouncing around the city with a vaguely manic, newly liberated energy, catalyzed by the total lift on COVID restrictions. But swimmers, particularly all-weather swimmers (the lido I chose is unheated and open year-round), take the meditative pleasure of swimming seriously, as Styles himself, who swims outdoors daily, knows well. "I feel like people who have discovered cold water swimming are just so happy for you that you've also found it," Styles said. In other words, no one is hassling you for water-side photos. Indeed, around us, most swimmers were doing an admirable job of feigning indifference to the fact that an instantly recognizable pinup (the hair, the face, the tattoos) was stripped off, poolside.

Styles has spent the last few years on a quest to enjoy things for what they are, to "be in the moment," as he put it. Swimming is good for this; it's hard to think about anything else when you are struggling to keep breathing. Just before the pandemic, in December 2019, Styles released his second solo album, Fine Line, to acclaim. The corresponding live shows, Love On Tour, were due to start in April 2020. But by then, the pandemic was raging; disaster declarations had been made across the U.S., and Europe was on lockdown. Styles had envisaged himself busy, playing packed shows each night, the music bellowing from his lungs, his pearls and sequins glittering in the light. Instead, nothing. "Suddenly, the screaming stopped," he said. Everything was canceled, an end to the relentless merry-go-round of attention Styles has been on since 2010—then a smiling 16-year-old in a skinny scarf that would hint at the kind of fey hip-wiggling rocker he would go on to become a decade later—when he appeared on the British talent show The X Factor and was set on a conveyer belt to stardom.

Now Styles was stuck in L.A. for months with nothing to do. "It was the first time I'd stopped since I left my mum's," he said. For a while, at the beginning of lockdown, productivity drilled into him, Styles felt like he should work, create. The ethos with One Direction (the boy band he was packaged into on The X Factor) was always more, next, bigger, better. It was "all about how do you keep it going and how do you get it to grow," he said. "There were so many years where, for me, especially in the band and the first few years coming out of it, I'd just been terrified of it ending, because I didn't necessarily know who I was if I didn't do music."

Styles came to see that COVID was out of his control, that he just had to ride it out. He bubbled with a group of friends and for about six weeks did "practically nothing." Didn't write any music. Didn't record. He was suddenly just another young guy in a house-share trying not to bug his roommates. Styles came to realize that his past schedule had facilitated avoidance. "Whether it was with friends or people I was dating, I was always gone before it got to the point of having to have any difficult conversations," he said. So he used lockdown to commit to being a better friend, son, brother. He pushed himself to confront things he hadn't brought up, had many long, honest chats. And like most people who found themselves suddenly very, very inside, he thought a lot about the idea of home—about belonging, peace, sanctuary. "I realized that that home feeling isn't something that you get from a house; it's more of an internal thing. You realize that when you stop for a minute," he said.

A few months later when he started recording in L.A., and later in Oxfordshire and London, he thought about what he was doing not as the creation of a new record but as an extension of that time kicking back with friends (he has a close-knit circle and was living with some of the same people he writes and plays with). "I've always made my worst, most generic work when I'm just desperate to get a single," he explained. So he tried to see what he was doing as open, speculative. That is, he has realized, his great skill as a musician; he's not naturally gifted at guitar or piano, not the most confident singer, can't read music, but he excels when it comes to bringing people together. He is at his best, he said, when he pulls away from what is formal or expected and does something playful, collaborative, instinctive, fun. While Fine Line is full of references to Styles' musical heroes (Joni Mitchell, David Bowie, Van Morrison), this time, when he started recording, he deliberately didn't listen to anything��except classical, music that cleansed him of sonic references—so he could start again with "a blank canvas."

He knew he had to commit to the reset, to the sense of a fresh start that was happening across his life. He is aware that this all sounds a bit pretentious, a bit airy-fairy, but then, who didn't get caught up in a rush of pandemic life-improvement epiphanies? "I think everyone went through a big moment of self-reflection, a lot of navel-gazing, and I don't know if there's anything more navel-gazing than making an album. It's so self-absorbed," he said.

Two years on, Styles and I are meeting because that album, titled Harry's House, is about to be announced to the world. The day before we meet, I listened to the album in a room at Sony's London headquarters under the watchful eye of a company executive. Only a handful of people knew then about its existence, and, overwhelmed by the pressure of secrecy, I briefly freaked out when I found myself audibly humming one of the songs on the train home. Harry's House is, as you can probably guess, about home. Not just home in the sense of a physical space—though there are plenty of references to kitchens and "sitting in the garden" and "maple syrup, coffee, pancakes for two"—but also to home "in terms of a headspace or mental well-being," as Styles put it. "It sounds like the biggest, and the most fun, but it's by far the most intimate," he said of the album.

At this point, Styles and I were sitting with a coffee on a patch of grass outside the pool, and I had begun to realize that I had kept him in the cold water way, way too long. He was visibly shaking. "Two lengths was too much," he agreed. I think we were both trying to show off—me, nonchalance to a popular heartthrob, and him, hardiness to another committed cold water swimmer. I became worried I had incapacitated him, something that would get me into great trouble, as a member of his team reminded me by text later, as he was due to perform at Coachella in a few weeks. "If you killed me, it would make for a good story," Styles said, eager to see the sunny side. We set off in search of heat.

Almost anyone who meets Styles will tell you how polite, breezy he is. Few interviews go by without mentioning his charm. Indeed, it is hard not to describe his boyish enthusiasm in the same campy, knowing cheesiness that enlivens his songs ("strawberries on a summer evenin'" or the exquisitely saccharine, "If I was a bluebird, I would fly to you; you be the spoon, dip you in honey so I can be sticking to you," from "Daylight" on Harry's House). Styles is teddy bears on your teenage bed, perfect handwriting on thank you cards, picked flowers on Sunday morning, puppies running on fresh-cut grass, Grandma's favorite homemade cake. At points, he is almost daffily nice, too attentive, as if held in the throes of a decade-long bout of imposter syndrome (he confirmed that he does, sometimes, expect that someone will tap him on the shoulder and say, "The jig is up. You're done now"). Surely a mask, you are thinking. No one that fancied can be that sweet. I asked Styles this myself: Is he actually pleasant, normal, sane? "My producer keeps asking me when I'm going to have my big breakdown," he said, laughing. "The most honest version I can think of is, I didn't grow up in poverty by any means, but we didn't have much money, and I had an expectation of what I could achieve in life. I feel like everything else has been a bonus, and I am so lucky."

That said, both Styles and his therapist have questioned why he cares quite so much about being likable. This is one of the things he thought about a lot in his big pandemic reflection. In part, it's a choice, he explained. He recalled moving to London after The X Factor and hearing tales of petulant celebrities screaming because someone got their coffee order wrong and deciding to never be that guy, to never give someone a petty reason to bad-mouth him. But more recently he's come to worry that the drive for approval came from a more complex place, a place of caution, fear, control. "In lockdown, I started processing a lot of stuff that happened when I was in the band," he said. He thought about the way he was encouraged to give so much of himself away, "to get people to engage with you, to like you." He thought about the fact that no baby photos exist of him that aren't on the internet (you give a bunch to an X Factor producer doing a piece on your backstory without much thought, and suddenly your childhood is online). He thought about the journalists asking questions, when he was still a teenager, about how many people he'd slept with and how, rather than telling them to go away, he would worry about how he could be coy without them leaving the room annoyed. "Why do I feel like I'm the one who has done something wrong?" he said to me, after we got up to shift spots in the park when a teenager started filming us for a prank video.

Styles said he often spent interviews terrified about saying the wrong thing until he stopped to question what abhorrent belief or bizarre opinion he was scared he'd accidentally reveal and realized he couldn't think of anything. He thought about how, when good things happened—say, a No. 1 album—he wouldn't feel happy, just relieved. And he thought about the cleanliness clauses in the contracts he used to sign, which would dictate that they would be null and void if he did anything supposedly unsavory, and about how terrified that used to make him. And about when he signed his solo contract and learned that the ability to make music would not be affected by personal transgressions, he burst into tears, a reaction he still seemed shocked by, retelling it to me now, years later. "I felt free," he explained.

Recently Styles began to work through issues related to intimacy, dating, love. "For a long time, it felt like the only thing that was mine was my sex life. I felt so ashamed about it, ashamed at the idea of people even knowing that I was having sex, let alone who with," he said. The life of a boy band member is something of a Ken Doll existence—a smooth nothingness where sex should be. One must be flirtatious (swoon!) without ever being seen to have sex, let alone casual sex. One must project the intrigue of a bad boy without ever doing anything bad; you are an object, an image, onto which people project fantasies, not a person who actually does things, who gets messy. "At the time, there were still the kiss-and-tell things. Working out who I could trust was stressful," Styles said. "But I think I got to a place where I was like, why do I feel ashamed? I'm a 26-year-old man who's single; it's like, yes, I have sex."

Styles has come to fame at a complex time for the idolized. When he emerged, the UK was at the height of its tabloid culture, when celebrities were being hounded, exposed. That gave way to social media, where everyone expected to see everything, where anyone could publish snapshots, footage, gossip. "I think we're in a moment of reflection," Styles said. "You look back, especially now there's all the documentaries, like the Britney documentary, and you watch how people were abused in that way, by that system, especially women. You recall articles from not even five years ago, and you're like, I can't even believe that was written." He has been thinking a lot recently about autonomy, ownership, privacy. About what he should be able to keep to himself, what he should be able to simply communicate through his music without follow-up questions or prying. Around the time of Fine Line, he faced scrutiny around his sexuality. People became incredulous that he wore dresses, waved Pride flags, and yet hadn't clarified with precision, publicly to a journalist or on social media, the specifics of who he'd slept with, how he defined. This expectation is, to him, bizarre, "outdated." "I've been really open with it with my friends, but that's my personal experience; it's mine," he said. "The whole point of where we should be heading, which is toward accepting everybody and being more open, is that it doesn't matter, and it's about not having to label everything, not having to clarify what boxes you're checking."

But Styles does not want to appear ungrateful or defensive, or even angry. All of this contemplation, this honesty, is not to say that he didn't love it, hasn't loved it all—because he has, he reminded me several times, "absolutely loved it." Despite the acceptance that some things could, should, have been different, he still feels lucky every day, he said, lucky to make music, lucky to do what he loves.

By now, we were snug in a local café; all the other attendees appeared to be in their late seventies, and no one gave us a second glance. In about an hour from now, just after we've parted, Styles' album's existence will be announced to the world on Twitter. The cover, on which he stands alone in an upside-down room, will go on within mere hours to receive over a million likes. The first single on the album, "As It Was," begins with a clip of a voice note from one of his goddaughters asking him to say good night to her. It is, he said, about "metamorphosis." About when you look back on life, and on your past selves, and barely recognize them. About when you realize everything has transformed, irrevocably. About when you grow up, change, begin to move on.

"Finally, it doesn't feel like my life is over if this album isn't a commercial success," he said. "You've never felt that way before?" I asked. He said, "Honestly, I don't think I have." With his first album, he explained, he was terrified to make fun music, "because I'd come out of the band, and it was like, if I want to be taken seriously as a musician, then I can't make fun music." He called it "bowling with the bumpers up, playing it safe." While the second album was "freer," he became concerned with making "really big songs," an objective he now questions. Now his goals are, on the surface, smaller but, to him, far greater: "I just want to make stuff that is right, that is fun, in terms of the process, that I can be proud of for a long time, that my friends can be proud of, that my family can be proud of, that my kids will be proud of one day," he said. We hugged goodbye, and he set off through North London on foot—a sex symbol, a fashion darling, a very modern rock star, weaving his way back home.

via Better Homes & Gardens. (26 April 2022)

[the-pit-of-fandoms]

All grown up

Falling in love with the boy next door: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8

Summary: Bucky’s midnight antics with the girl next door.

Warnings: (18+ please) spying, masterbation, smut

“I’m telling you Steve with the lettuce I got, an apartment is not gonna be a problem.”

Trudging beside Bucky, Steve smirks.

“Ya know moving into an apartment mean you won’t be able to see y/n everyday.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, tsking at his friend. Even though he never told Steve how he felt about y/n, Steve wasn’t blind. Hell even a blind person could see how in love his best friend was.

“Not that it’s any of your business but I’ve barely seen her this summer with how much work I’ve been doing.”

“Really? You must be dying then.” Steve retorted

Bucky gave him a quick shove, “Punk.”

Before Steve could remark, Bucky stopped in his tracks right in front of y/ns house.

Following his gaze, Steve spotted her on the cushioned bench that sat on the front porch and she was breathe taking.

Her hair done up into a classical pinup style, a slight blush on the apple of her cheeks and lips colored a pretty pink. Lined eyes focused down at a book, enjoying the cool summer evening.

“You know, you smile like an idiot when you look at her.”

Steve’s remark fell on deaf ears, Bucky was too enamored with you to hear him clearly but it was enough to snap him out of his daze.

“Let’s get home, jerk. You got an early shift tomorrow.”

Steve made himself at home in the Barnes spare bedroom as to not disturb Bucky in the morning. After hanging out for a while, the boys retreated to their respective bedrooms.

With Bucky changed into his usual nightwear which was just a pair of boxers then moving to turn off his lamp that stood by his windows. Before he could, a flicker of movement catches his eye from your room across the way.

She was still in the powdery pink dress that he saw her in earlier. He still couldn’t get over how gorgeous she looked in it. The waist of the dress molding perfectly to her own waist. The neckline stopping just at the top of her cleavage, seeming to frame her collarbones. Bucky had dreamed many times of kissing said collarbone.

He watched as she stood facing the vanity, that he knew was in the room. She rubs lotion into the delicate features of her face. The access is wiped between her hands before her fingertips move to the buttons running down the front of her dress.

At this point Bucky knew he was staring but he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

After just a few buttons the dress was loose enough to drop from her body, pooling onto the floor. Now, she was just left in your matching peach bra and panties.

She turns away, and Bucky got a full view of her back. His hand gripped at the curtains framing the window.

He told himself to look away now, he wasn’t a creep. However that was before she unclipped the front of her bra, letting the straps fall down her shoulders before they glide down her arms onto the floor. Stretching her arms up into her hair, then brushing her hair over the shoulder. The shallow dip in her back, made Bucky’s member twitch in his boxers.

Sure Bucky had thought about y/ns naked body once or twice before but never had he expected it to be so utterly perfect. And that was just from the back, he would probably kill over if he saw her front.

Next you moved to her stockings. The sheer thin fabric matching her skin tone. Perching a leg on the vanity stool.Her fingers slid in between the fabric and her skin, trailing the stockings downher leg. Bucky palmed himself through his underwear, trying to relieve his painfully hard erection. A small spot of wetness pooled at the tip.

“Shit.” He muttered.

She repeats the same actions on the other leg, stripping the fabric off her delicate skin.

Reaching over to the vanity again, and grabbing the moisturizer, rubbing her hand up and down her legs, somehow, seductively.

Bucky’s breathing shallows as you stretch her arms over her head again. The graceful swell of her breasts, riling him up even more.

He continues to watch through the window, his hand gripping and rubbing his cock through his pants.

Last to go is her panties. Her fingers hook around the waistband, before guiding the silk fabric down her smooth thighs before dropping them to the floor. Bucky’s arousal sky rocketed as he though about burying his face between those thighs. The kind of sounds she would make. How she would taste.

His eyes fluttered, threatening to close but he couldn’t risk you missing you turn away from her vanity.

“Fuck.” He grunts. His patch of wetness on his underwear spreading and saturating more of the fabric. His hand disappears into his boxers, gripping the base of his slickly covered member. His mind running wild with the images of him fucking her. Lord it was delicious.

She turns away from the vanity, her ass in full view through the window for a brief moment before disappearing into the room.

His pace quickens and after a few pumps he is coming in his pants. Huffing grunts and moans escape his chest as he rides his orgasm. His head falls back, trying to calm his breath.

As he opened his eyes y/n walked back into the window view, now dressed in a pale mint green night gown. The top cupping her breast perfectly, while the rest was a flowing skirt that reached down to her thighs. Her underwear, which was the same color as her night gown, hugged her hips so sweetly. Bucky felt a twitch in his pants as he watched her.

She kissed her finger tips the blew them towards Bucky.

He could swear that he felt his heart beat skip as the invisible kiss collided with his chest. He meant to raise his hand for a wave but he was so mesmerized by her he couldn’t. She smiled closing the curtains, leaving Bucky to crash back into his own room next door.

His cheeks began to flush with embarrassment but he couldn’t decide if it was from watching her undress or that she knew he was watching the whole time.

One thing that he did know was y/n y/l/n was the only woman he would ever look at that way for the rest of his days.

Tag list:

@rebloggingmyrecs

@mybuck

@baby-banana

@buckybarnesdreamgirl

@enchantedbarnes

@avoxzy

@winterwhore

@mxsmwndr

@lostsunprincess

[aphrodite-made-me-write-it]

12 Days of Holiday Fics

Day Three: Just Kiss Already!

(A/N) i have a horrible caffeine addiction and as im writing this rn i have had a gigantic cup of nitro coldbrew from starbucks. i just rlly wanted to be energized man idk and the barista looked horrified and now i feel like time is moving the way it did in that b99 episode where they drank all that coldbrew and if this kills me i want u all to know i only regret not getting the taylor swift pinup i’ve been wanting. also u can tell that i’m hyperfixating on yelena rn bc her fics in this miniseries are the longest a;lsdkf sorry?

Rating: G (General Audience)

Warnings: R and Yelena are sickeningly cute; Natasha and Tony are not good at this; Clint is dedicated; Some Avengers are Emotionally Damaged in this fic; cheesy holiday shit, basically

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Stark!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.3k (ah yes, favoritism)

Synopsis: Tony and Natasha are sick of seeing their sisters pine over one another. So, they come up with a genius plan to get you two together for the holidays.

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 |

Tony Stark is a man on the brink of sanity.

Typically, he isn’t one to pry (he is) and he’s definitely not nosey (yes, he is), but you and Yelena were driving him absolutely fucking nuts. It was truly baffling - mind boggling, one might say - how two people could be so obviously smitten with one another and be so goddamn oblivious about it at the same time. 

You were his little sister, the product of an affair your father had with a mutant woman and thus resulting in your ability to manipulate technology. Of course the moment your secret identity as his sister was revealed thanks to one of SHEILD’s many enemies, SHIELD was quick to coerce you to join their ranks, much to Tony’s dismay.

It isn’t that you didn’t get along, per se. You were too damn similar, to be honest, but you’ve grown to love each other over the years. That being said, when Yelena joined the team, Tony knew immediately that you were interested in her. It surprised him, really, how quickly you two bonded. Neither of you were exactly the easiest to get along with, but together, you were like two peas in a pod.

So yes. Tony is on the verge of losing his mind. Seeing you, his little sister, pining after someone so equally interested in you was frustrating. So, he does the unthinkable:

He asks Natasha Romanoff for help.

“So, it’s pretty obvious that our sisters are totally in love, right?” He asks her, cornering her in the kitchen one fine morning. He’d woken up early as hell to have this conversation, he hoped Natasha would go along with what he had planned.

Natasha, to his surprise, laughs when she faces him. “I thought I was the only one who noticed.”

“That’s physically impossible. It’s painfully obvious.”

“Right?” She crosses her arms. “So, what are we gonna do about it?”

He grins. “You know what Romanoff? I take back everything I’ve ever said about you.”

“No, you don’t, but that’s okay, the sentiment was nice.”

-

The plan was simple: throw a massive holiday party and ensure there’s mistletoe hanging in every single doorway you and Yelena could possibly cross under. Who cares about the awkward interactions that could happen between now and that wonderful, blissful moment when you both finally pull your heads out of your asses.

Natasha will work on luring you towards any available doorway at any given time. She’s even recruited a few others on the plan: Wanda (naturally), Clint, and, most surprisingly, Steve (“What? I’m a sucker for love!”). 

By the time ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’ plays for the third time, you and Yelena have successfully ignored every single mistletoe you’ve passed under. You didn’t even notice. Too busy giggling with one another, too absorbed in your conversation. They’re getting desperate, now.

Natasha had tried making you look up at the doorway you were under with a, “You know, some holiday traditions are-” but she didn’t get to finish that thought before Yelena brought up her fighting poses again, effectively dissolving the conversation into a much-needed banter to defend Natasha’s honor.

When Steve actually pointed out the mistletoe, you and Yelena teased him about only wanting to get rid of his ‘decades long dry streak’ until he turned crimson and had to be consoled by Bucky. 

Tony slipped away to turn one of the mistletoe into a tiny robot that would follow you and Yelena around, but at some point it had been stepped on. (Tony is a little mad about that one; he thought it was kinda cute.)

Clint is their last hope. He’s been firing arrows of mistletoe in places where it doesn’t even make sense to have mistletoe. Both ends of the bar have at least two hanging from the lights, even the doorway to the bathroom has some of the little plant in it. 

“Is it just me,” you snuggle closer to Yelena’s side, her sweater feeling warmer than yours, “or are our siblings acting weird?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Yelena hums, watching as Natasha tries to discreetly look at the two of you on the couch from across the room. Her eyes dart upward, a smirk on her lips and an idea seemingly clicking in her mind. “I don’t like it.” Yelena concludes.

You snort, draining the last of your drink. “Let’s get another and head up?”

“Sure,” Yelena stands, reaching out to pick you up and you happily wrap your arms back around her once you’re on your feet again. She chuckles when you put more weight on her than you’d intended, nearly causing the both of you to stumble. “You sure you can handle another?”

“Shut up, you’re just really warm.” You huff. To prove your point, you slip one of your cold hands under her sweater to touch her stomach, causing the blonde to yelp and twist away from you.

“Not fair, I wasn’t ready!” Yelena laughs, taking your hand in both of her own. The warmth of her palms is wonderful against the cold chill. Instead of bickering, you just pull yourself back into her. She puffs out a laugh, guiding you to the bar. “Good to know I’m just your personal space heater.”

She starts pouring the drinks when you add, “And my bartender, too.”

Yelena playfully pushes you away. “And now you’ve lost both privileges.”

“Hey! No fair!” You whine, jutting your bottom lip out into a pout. “You play dirty, Belova.”

She winks at you, ready to retort when a hand taps your shoulder.

You turn to find Natasha, who is wearing a calm smile that, to you, is harmless but to Yelena only means trouble. “Hey, Nat! Tell Yelena to stop being a jerk.”

The redhead only chuckles. “Like that would stop her.”

“I’m not a jerk! How rude!” Yelena scoffs.

Natasha is making her own drink when she suddenly pauses and looks up as if in surprise. “Oh, would you look at that, (Y/N).”

You follow her gaze to what looks like a gigantic bush of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling over the entire bar. You frown in confusion. “I don’t remember putting that up there.”

“Well, y’know, holiday traditions…” She trails off suggestively.

To your other side, Yelena is rigid. So that’s what she was plotting, Yelena thinks to herself, glaring daggers at her older sister. Natasha doesn’t spare her a glance, keeping her eyes on you.

“Oh! Uh- I’m- flattered, Nat,” you stammer, looking to Yelena for help. “But-”

“I was here first.” The blonde growls, her hand on your cheek stunning you just long enough for her lips to press against yours. It’s over quicker than you could process it, effectively silencing you.

“Finally!” Somebody shouts from the crowd. You hear someone high-fiving someone else. Natasha looks weak with relief.

“What is your problem tonight?” Yelena asks, her arm firmly around your shoulders.

“We’ve been waiting for you two to just get it over with,” Natasha explains, rolling her eyes. “You guys are clearly into each other.”

“We’ve been dating for four months!” Yelena exclaims. 

You lean into her, unable to hold back your laughter when you see the look of utter shock on Natasha’s face. Tony soon joins her, followed by Wanda, Clint, and Steve.

“Did I hear that right?” Tony asks, his tone accusatory. “Is my little sister dating someone without telling me about it?”

“We wanted to tell you,” you blush. “But we already acted like a couple anyway. We figured you just assumed we were already together.”

“And it was nice to keep it to ourselves,” Yelena adds. “Very nice, actually.”

“I’m wounded.” Tony puts his hand over his glowing chest. “Truly wounded.”

You take this time to look up at the rest of the ceiling. The whole damn thing is covered in fucking mistletoe. “Did you do all this to get us to kiss?”

“No.” They all say a little too quickly.

Yelena groans. “You guys are such dorks. Don’t you have anything better to do?”

After a moment of consideration, they all come to the same conclusion: “Nope.”

(You love your girlfriend.)

(You love your family.)

~Gen Tag List~

@nobody13​ @fireflyglass @swords-are-cool​ @artapdarkstr @pasta-bandit​ @multi-images​ @women-am-i-right​ @fanboy7794​ @simplysimping999​ @ohmygooddamnbisexual-mood 

//To be tagged, let me know if you want to be tagged for a specific series, character, or all my stuff!

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Echo and Hardcase: I have been pretty busy, so almost missing on the take over but! If you could choose any tattoo for your brothers what would it be and for who? Psssst What is Wolffe really like ?

Echo: Don't worry there, my lady.

Hardcase: Always have to be the smooth talker, huh.

Echo: You're confusing me with Fives, I'm simply addressing Lady Katakuri in the manner, befitting a lady.

Hardcase: You can't see this, Lady Katakuri, but I'm giving him the biggest eye roll, right now.

Echo: Back to your question. If I could choose a tattoo, hmm, for any brother ... You know, I think I would choose Jaig Eyes or maybe even draw my own design for Ninety-nine. He has been the big brother to all of us, taken care of us, supported Hevy when no else did, and he deserves to have the best and most amazing tattoo one could ever bestow a brother.

Hardcase: That's actually a really good thought. For me, I would say something truly horrendous, something that the person would have a hard time explaining, maybe a pinup of Senator Amidala or Senator Chuchi, on Rex's back. That would be amazing.

Echo: Or a honk if you love the Opera type of tattoo on Rex's neck

Hardcase: Hahaha, Yes!

Rex: If either of you, ever try something like that, you will be on refresher duty for the rest of your life.

Echo: Relax Rex, it's just a joke.

Hardcase: Yeah, in order to do something like that we would have to get you blackout drunk and then carry you to a tattoo parlour, all the way from 79's

Rex: Hence, why I don't go to 79's.

Echo: With regards to Wolffe...

Wolffe: You got questions about me, you ask me! Is that clear, My Lady?

CAST TAKEOVER LIST

[sarahandjuliesroadtrip]

Exclusive! An Interview with Glynnis Campbell the voice of Julie Winters in MTV’s The Maxx!

  We here at Sarah and Julie’s Road Trip got the chance to sit down with the voice of Julie Winters herself Glynnis Campbell. A special thank you to Mrs. Campbell for taking the time to reflect on a brief period in her professional life that has meant so much to so many of us. Glynnis is a true joy and It’s safe to say she was as enthusiastic to talk to us as we were to meet her.

So ladies and Gentleman, Maxxheads of all ages, without further ado, sit back and enjoy a morning with Julie Winters.

Sarah and Julie’s Roadtrip: You have had a long and very interesting career that’s still going, spanning multiple professions that are very different from one and other. How did you get into voice acting?

Glynnis Campbell: First, thank you so much for interviewing me. It’s always a delight to make contact with people who like my work. And you’re so right about multiple careers! Sometimes I still wonder what I want to be when I grow up. Voice acting was an offshoot of singing, which I did all through school. I have a degree in Vocal Performance, so I sang opera at college and rock-and-roll on the weekends. That got me a contract with CBS Records in the all-girl rock band, The Pinups. The singing was fun, but the business was sketchy. Still, I loved the mic, so when the group burned out, it was an easy pivot to voiceover acting.

2. How did you get your part in The Maxx?

My voice coach, Johnny Rabbitt, let me know about the audition and said he thought I’d be a perfect fit. I wasn’t represented by an agent at the time, so I just went in and did a cold read for Rough Draft Studios

3. Were you ever into comic books?

 As a girl, I had a huge crush on Aqualad and the Teen Titans. Every time I visited my grandma, she’d buy me a comic book from the drugstore. I visited frequently!

4.  Did you know what The Maxx was before the Cartoon?

 I’d never heard of The Maxx. But that’s only because the comics of my youth were definitely meant for kids, so I stopped reading them. It never occurred to me that the comic audience might have changed, that current comics told deeper, more complex stories.

5.  How would you describe Julie Winters?

 More than anything, Julie Winters is a survivor. Life has left her badly damaged, but she’s managed to hold off (or embrace?) insanity with a lot of fascinating coping mechanisms—assigning characters to her emotions, finding interdependence with a fictional figure, creating alternate worlds in her mind. Her snarkiness keeps her from succumbing to depression, and her mental strength helps her battle her inner demons.

 6. Did you like working on the show?

 I absolutely LOVED working on The Maxx! It’s a rare treat to work with the whole cast while recording. Most productions are scheduled and recorded one character at a time. For The Maxx, two or three of us would be in the recording booth together, able to interact with and respond to each other. It was magical. I found Barry Stigler, who voiced Mr. Gone, deliciously evil. Since he preferred to stay in character, I cut him a wide berth! And I adored Michael Haley, who was a big, cuddly bear, so the affection you hear in my voice is real.

7. How did you prepare for voicing Julie and Lil’ Julie?

 I’ve been told I may have invented vocal fry! The truth was I wanted to give Julie a kicked-back sort of sardonic sound, like she was talking to herself. I’d heard that kind of self-assured, intimate tone from late night radio DJs. So I was channeling a male voice to a certain extent! For Lil’ Julie, it’s always been easy for me to access the little girl I used to be—innocent, pure, uncertain—so it was just a matter of reverting to that age with my voice.

8. Was it a challenge to voice some of the other, minor characters on the show like Glorie and the Cabbie victim?

 The most fun for me in doing voice work is inhabiting a wide cast of characters, slipping into the skin of someone completely different. I’ve voiced everything from a little boy to a singing tomato, from a rubber duck to the Queen of Blades. I like the challenge of changing my sound enough to fool the listener into believing it’s a completely different actor.

9. Didn’t your performance on The Maxx land you the role of our beloved Sarah Kerrigan in Starcraft?

 Speaking of the Queen of Blades… Yes, Blizzard originally wanted a Julie Winters voice for Diablo, so I was cast as The Rogue and Gillian the Barmaid. After the success of that game, I went on to voice Sarah Kerrigan and The Medic for Starcraft.

10. Did you get to interact with the rest of the cast and crew on The Maxx?

While recording The Maxx, I got to interact with other members of the cast, which as I mentioned is rare in recording. I enjoyed hanging out and listening to the other actors between my scenes. The Rough Draft directors were very warm and encouraging, and it was kind of a kick to take an occasional peek at what the animators were up to.

11. So Sam Kieth, the creator of the comic series, was heavily involved in the creation of the cartoon as a consultant. The cartoon is probably one of the most faithful comic book adaptions ever produced. Mr. Kieth is also known to be very reclusive, even with friends. Did you ever get to meet Sam Kieth?

I did meet Sam Kieth, and if I’d known how reclusive he was, I might have taken a photo. He came in one day during recording. I remember thinking he reminded me of a little boy, absolutely delighted with what all of us had done with his creation. His enthusiasm was contagious.

12. To put it lightly, the Maxx is very different and it tackles a lot of themes that are still highly controversial nearly thirty years later. Did any of your friends and family ever watch the show, if so, what did they think of it?

My friends and family watched the show, but I’m not sure they understood the story or related to the characters. Honestly, I think they were just excited that I was on MTV.

13. The Maxx’s story is very impressionistic, and it’s all intentionally left up to audience interpretation. How would you describe The Maxx cartoon and what would you say it was about?

I’m always hesitant to comment on the story, because you’re right, it IS impressionistic, and I feel like everyone takes away what they need. The thing that most surprised me, and I hope this doesn’t sound egotistical, is that despite the title being The Maxx, the main character really is Julie Winters. The series is all about her trauma, her pain, her reality, and how she manages to navigate through her world. The characters and symbolism come from her point of view and from within her mind.

14. Do you think there’s a reason Julie always seems to go barefoot?

 I don’t know for certain, but I always think of bare feet as indicating two things--vulnerability and being in touch with earth. In the case of Julie, I think that tracks. She’s emotionally fragile, and though in her head she’s exploring wild universes, she’s trying to stay grounded.

15. Any advice for aspiring voice actors?

 I think good voice acting requires two things. One is familiarity with basic mic technique, knowing about proximity and breath and the tricks of the trade. But more important is emotional openness, a willingness to expose sensitive parts of the psyche. When you don’t have the option of facial expressions or gestures, you have to be able to channel all that feeling into the voice.

16. For years there have been talks of a Maxx movie adaption, likely a live action movie. Sam Kieth has said before he’s interested in making a Maxx film and most recently, Channing Tatum has said in 2019 that he was going to direct a Maxx movie. If anyone ever contacted you to reprise your role, or even cameo in The Maxx movie, would you do it? 

I would be thrilled to have a cameo in The Maxx movie! How fun would that be? (I think I’m a bit too long in the tooth to do a live-action Julie.) But if they decided to do a full-length animated feature, I’d definitely insist on being considered for Julie.

 17. Any messages for the Maxxheads that are still out there?

I’ve been truly honored by the emails I’ve received over the years from those inspired and touched by The Maxx. Some told me the comic helped them through dark teen years. Some said they finally felt heard and understood. Some even said they felt the comic saved their life. I don’t feel I can take credit for that—it’s Sam who created the story—but I’m glad to be the conduit for his message.

 18. What do you think Julie would think of the female protagonists in your Historical Romance novels? 

The heroines in my historical romances are mostly kick-ass warrior maids, not unlike the Jungle Queen, so I’m sure Julie would approve.

19. If you could say anything to The Maxx what would it be?

 “We all need some place to go away to; some place we can be who we should have been instead of who we are; some safe place where we can escape reality. Hide. I know there are things to hide from. Shush. Just rest now. It’s okay. ‘S’okay.”